As Pride Month comes to a close, some LGBTQ+ Utahns are rethinking what the celebration should look like.
At Pride Without Police in Salt Lake City’s Fairmont Park, there weren’t flashy floats or corporate rainbow logos. Attendees lined up for free sandwiches next to hand-painted signs. There was no entry fee, and the event provided complimentary food, music and even a sewing class. It had no corporate sponsors, nor a relationship with law enforcement.
The festival was small; young families walked hand-in-hand within a single lane of booths. As attendees waved homemade flags, the mood was celebratory.
Members of Salt Lake Community Mutual Aid, the volunteer group that organizes Pride Without Police, said the festival is a step back toward the roots of the Pride movement.
“As we see hostilities and tensions rise up against queer people and how they are perceived and treated by the media, as we see the groomer panic expand, it's not just about resistance, but it's about spreading queer joy,” said organizer CJ McCormick.
McCormick said they don’t feel represented by the corporations that table at mainstream Pride celebrations, handing out rainbow merchandise.
“You have Utah Pride, where you pay $20 to get in, and then you go to the Delta Airlines booth and you get your pride beads that are sponsored by Delta,” they explained. “And then the next thing you do is you go to the Zions Bank booth.”
Utah Pride is the state’s biggest Pride festival, held annually in Salt Lake City with a $1.2 million price tag. This year, however, the relationship between Utah Pride and big companies has gotten more complicated. Corporate sponsorships fell. Compared to 2022 and 2023, the festival received only about half of the funds that it had in previous years.
Since the early 1990s, Pride celebrations in the Beehive State have been sponsored by big companies and facilitated by police, said Megan Weiss, a public historian in Salt Lake City. Her current research focuses on Pride in Utah.
“The corporate sponsorship in the 90s provided validation, stability, legitimacy,” Weiss said. “But now, would it provide the same thing? I don't know. I think people are questioning that.”
Pride Without Police organizer Kylie Hansen is one of those people. She said a strong LGBTQ+ community is more important than corporate validation. For her, people are the focus of Pride.
“We recognize that people are needing a space, and they're needing safety, and they're needing community,” she said.
That’s especially true, Hansen said, at a time of increasing hostility toward the LGBTQ+ community. This year, the Utah Legislature banned any unofficial flags on government property, including Pride Flags (Salt Lake City, though, found a workaround). And the U.S. Supreme Court recently affirmed that states can choose to ban gender-affirming health care for youth. Utah passed a ban in 2023.
For fellow organizer McCormick, the effect of Pride Without Police is simple.
“We’re here and we're taking care of us,” they said. “I know that a lot of people feel overwhelmed, especially with politics, but there is something nice and beautiful about being able to be involved in a community that helps.”
