Oh, Pride—one of the deadliest of sins. Don't you love telling people we hold our Pride parade on a Sunday in downtown Salt Lake City, and tens of thousands of people participate? Salt Lake City has had Pride celebrations since the late 1970s, but we didn't have a real, live parade until 1990. I've attended each and every one of them in Utah and have marched in others throughout the country.
Gay Pride is not held on the same day throughout the country, so it's fun to travel and celebrate out of town. More than 2 million people were in and alongside the Pride parade that I attended a few years ago in Vancouver, Canada. There were more rainbows there than on all the islands of Hawaii!
The biggest Pride celebration is held every year in São Paulo, Brazil, where between 3 million and 4 million party for Pride.
Locally, the Utah 2015 Pride Festival takes place June 4-7 at Washington & Library squares, with the Pride parade taking place on June 7, at 10 a.m. Visit UtahPrideFestival.org for more information.
I don't remember much about Salt Lake City's earlier celebrations here except that I rode my little chopper, had a shaved head with a pink tail, wore excellent leathers and had plenty of women willing to ride with me. As a group, we were generally loud and obnoxious and had great fun. I remember playing volleyball against a snatch of drag queens and bet them that we tough women would beat the padded bras off of them. Oh, hell! They wiped our butts with their sweaty wigs!
Here are some memories from folks, both straight and LGBT, about their first parades here in Utah:
Touched My Soul
Leslie Memmott
The first time I walked in the Pride parade was 2014. I am fortunate enough to work for a company that participates in the parade, so I took advantage of the opportunity. I also took my 5-year-old daughter, because it's important to me to expose her to different lifestyles, cultures, etc. Although I consider myself an ally and supporter, I decided to walk for myself because it seemed like fun. And it was fun! I had a great time! I was amazed by all the love and positivity I witnessed. About halfway through the parade route, the experience changed for me and became much deeper. I happened to make eye contact with a woman who was watching the parade. She mouthed the words, "Thank you," with a look of gratitude that touched my soul. I was stunned to think that I had a positive and meaningful impact on this woman. I never thought my support could be that important. I didn't know her or her story, but I feel grateful that I could be there for her. Needless to say, I will be walking again this year!
Pink Lame Evening Gowns
Greg (Tracie Aviary) Hardin
My first Utah Pride experience happened in 1986. My drag troupe, The Love Birds, and I were asked to perform as entertainment at Sunnyside Park. Preparations included wearing matching pink lamé evening gowns, newly styled Vidal Sassoon wigs and of course, a newly choreographed medley of hits by The Supremes. The performance took place on the back of a flatbed semi-trailer as a makeshift stage. I was very happy with our performance and by the audience reaction. We were asked back five years later to perform at Pride in Murray Park. In 2003, I was crowned Miss Utah Gay Rodeo and was informed by the Utah Gay Rodeo Association that I had to represent the organization in the Pride Parade. I chose to ride in the back of a pickup truck with my banner plastered all over the sides of the vehicle. It was a very hot day, and as we lined up for what seemed like a very long time for the procession to start, I was approached by the president of the Utah Bears to sit in the dunking booth (in drag) to help raise money for their organization. Hey, I'm not a glam-drag queen, but I was willing to do it to cool off and to have an excuse to get out of face. Several people lined up to take a chance at dunking "Miss Tracie Aviary," but it was a young 10-year-old boy who won the honor of dunking me, and pictures were taken. I sat at the rodeo booth out of face and enjoyed the rest of the day. My favorite part about Gay Pride is the parade and watching all the happy faces of the people as each parade entry passes by.
True to Myself
Cris Aitch
The first time I marched in the Pride parade was with the Pride Empathy Line. I was so excited to be participating because it meant I could be 100-percent true to myself without a single fear of being slammed down with hate speech and dirty looks. My best friend flew in from California to join me. It was one the best feelings ever to have her by my side as the crowd cheered on our cause. The experience made me feel proud and very loved. It helped me develop the courage to be more honest about myself with everyone I meet. Now, I look forward to new marching adventures with every Pride parade.
Loving Every Second of It
Sarah Jane Woodhouse
My first experience marching in the Utah Pride Parade came when I was asked by a dear friend to march in support of his campaign for office. Gordon Storrs, a Log Cabin Republican, was running, and I lined up with his volunteers and staff that morning to walk in the parade for the first time. Very early on in my transition, a few of my straight friends would comment on how I would become a great activist in whatever community I would settle into. I told them, "I have never been a marching, flag-waving, kind of person." I assured them this would never really happen because "that is just not me." Yet here I was, not yet five years into my journey as an out transwoman of faith, walking along with hundreds of LGBT people in front of thousands of supporters and, of course, those few nonsupporters (you know, the ones screaming on the street corner) and loving every second of it. It was a phenomenal experience, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of love that poured out from so many people—gay and straight alike. I have marched in the past two Pride parades, and I've added to that a tradition of marching in the Trans March on Saturday.
A Life Full of Lessons
Sean Dahl
First, let me state that, as of now, I am Mormon. I was born into a Mormon family, raised by conservative parents and have lived as a member for nearly half a century. Like everyone else, I have lived a life full of lessons. One of the things that has challenged my faith the most is the issue of homosexuality vs. religion. I was taught one thing: I heard completely different stories from my gay friends, many of whom were returned missionaries for the LDS Church. While this is still an issue that weighs on my mind, I have been forced to mold personal spiritual beliefs that don't completely coincide with church headquarters. In June 2012, I participated in a grass-roots organization called "Mormons Building Bridges," thanks to a newspaper article about Mitch Mayne, an openly gay man who was then serving in his LDS ward bishopric. The group was spearheaded by a woman named Erika Munson and consisted of mostly active LDS Church members who supported their gay brothers and sisters. The highlight of this experience was when my daughter and I were walking the parade route, and she pointed out a crying man who looked like one of my best friends. It was, in fact, my friend Craig (and his partner, Wes) who had only come to terms with his own sexuality a couple of years earlier. I moved over to Craig when he saw me. We embraced. It was one of the most powerful, loving embraces I have ever experienced. Along the entire parade route were men and women in tears, my brothers and sisters who have spent much of their life either hiding their true identity or, in many cases, being abused (emotionally, if not physically) for who they are. It was truly moving to see people come together, not separate into groups of "us" and "them." To this day, that experience remains one of the most spiritual experiences that I have ever had, bar none.
Guys With Little Dogs
Scott Harwell
Though I didn't march in my first Pride parade, I still remember the excitement of the event. I had just moved from Blackfoot, Idaho, which has only one parade per year, and that one has nothing to do with gay pride! I was with new friends and couldn't believe how many people were attending. We watched the excitement from in front of the old ZCMI store on State Street, as that's where the route traveled in those days. The police were out in force, and the motorcycle patrols were fantastic to watch as they cleared the way for the grand parade. The floats were done up in ways that only family could conceive: color, sound and energy were everywhere! The mayor led the parade and was followed by convertibles filled with then-brave and waving politicians. The floats sponsored by different clubs were a delight to watch. I've always favored the Club Try-Angles float, as I know the guys there. Bare-chested celebrities, every one of them. It was somber when the AIDS quilt flowed by, everyone tossing in a donation. And the people watching—gay and straight—were caught up in the parade. I had never seen so many guys with little dogs in my life! In the end, we all went to the City & County Building for an afternoon of concerts and food. Now, many years later, the route has changed, but that's all. The excitement and enthusiasm are as strong as ever. Can't wait for this year!
Somewhat Swooned
Sister Dottie S. Dixon (Charles Frost)
I'm a parade watcher, not a parade marcher. However the first Pride parade I actually mini-marched in was the New York City Pride many years ago. I was in the Big Apple on a June theater tour, and it was Pride weekend, so I went to watch the parade on South Central Park Avenue. When the Harley leather bikers drove by, I four-finger whistled, and one of them motioned for me to sit on the back of his Harley. The spontaneous part of me (which is, oh, about 10 percent) took the chance to grab on to a hot biker, and I hopped on. I rode in the parade down Fifth Avenue for about 10 blocks, then got off. He gave me an unexpected hard kiss on the lips, and I somewhat swooned and melted back into the crowd. My time of being a Son of Anarchy lasted for 15 minutes. Fast-forward to Utah Pride Parade 2010: My first official march was actually a ride in a convertible, when Sister Dottie S. Dixon was Grand Marshal in 2010. It was an exhilarating but exhausting weekend of seven outfit changes, a production team of six, and eight appearances, including the big parade. Constant running! It was a fun parade, full of all of Sister Dottie's themes: love, acceptance, anti-bullying and family preservation. There were fond memories of thousands of loving people and friends. It was at the beginning of our current big shift. Hmm ... a realization and a-just-right-now admission: I guess I ride in parades. Maybe that's why I love Downton Abbey?
Fundamentally Changed My Perspective
Rusty A.
My first experience at Salt Lake City's Utah Pride Parade was just a few years ago. In the past, I had always found reasons to be elsewhere during Pride. I thought the occasion was somewhat antiquated and unnecessary. Certainly in modern times, we wouldn't need to stand in public or march down boulevards to declare our sexuality. What I discovered fundamentally changed my perspective. The crowds of families, children, moms pushing strollers and Mormons marching in solidarity with their LGBTQ friends completely changed my perspective. I knew in those moments what it meant to be a part of a community. Seeing people standing up for their dignity and finding their place in our culture left an indelible mark on my heart and reminded me that we are nothing as individuals without others to share those experiences with.
We Can Do This
Cristy Gleave
It was 2001, and the Utah Legislature had just passed House Bill 103 into a law, which made it impossible for families like mine to adopt children. I remember creating fliers to hand out along the parade route that promoted overturning the awful law, and I handed one to my friend, Bruce Bastian. He said "Cristy, they will never overturn this." I was so naive and passionate in believing that I could get it overturned. I remember saying to Bruce, "You are wrong. We can do this." He was way smarter than I in regard to this issue. But all I have to say to Bruce now is: "We did it!" Only 14 years later.
We Took Our Lives in Our Hands
Kara Cope
My first Pride was when it was held at Sunnyside Park back in 1986. My bestie, Jon, had a booth there for personal training. I was his example of what some hard workouts can do for a body. He actually made some new clients from his exposure at Pride. In those days, we took our lives in our hands celebrating our diversity. There was no parade and no police protection, and there were protesters on the sidelines. I'm proud of how Salt Lake City has grown to embrace diversity and the support for our gay brothers and sisters in our community. I still tear up when I attend the yearly Pride parade.
I Wasn't on Some Island by Myself
Ryan Eborn
My first experience at Salt Lake City's Utah Pride Parade was walking with the Cahoots float some 17 years ago. I had only recently come out after moving to Salt Lake City and felt very uncomfortable in my own skin. I had made a few good friends, and one weekend, they told me that we'd be going to Pride and that it would be the most fun I'd ever had. In those days—before social media and widespread news coverage—I had no idea what to expect. And I thought sure that a gay Pride parade in Utah was probably illegal. I was more than a little surprised by the size of this event, one I'd never heard anything about. So many people everywhere who were happy and having fun—and, most of all, just like me. The best part of this experience was learning that I wasn't on some island by myself. Each step I took in the parade that day was a step closer to feeling OK about my life and where I would go.
Hard Not to Have a Good Time
Andrew Bornstein
My first Utah Pride experience was one big party! Our friends knew some people who had an office nearby, so we pre-gamed there, then stopped by the Tavernacle for a few whiskey shots. The parade itself was wonderful. The floats clearly had lots of time and energy put into them. The people-watching was my favorite part; seeing how people express themselves when they feel comfortable putting it all out there makes for a great atmosphere. The floats with music and scantily clad people dancing and having a blast is infectious. It's hard not to have a good time! I noted a lot of corporations supporting the event and even marching themselves, which was cool. After the parade, we walked over to a house party for some more drinks and met a lot of interesting, like-minded people. We wrapped the day up at the festival, where we met up with one of our gay friends' LDS parents, who are very supportive of their son; it was really cool to see. My first Pride was a great time, and I have been back every year since.
Marching for Our Rights as Parents
Ann Bolland & Gina Herrera
Our first Utah Pride march was June 2009. Years prior, we were simply supporters of the march, cheering on the representatives of our diverse community, but after Gina lost her daughter, Maddie, due to the Jones vs. Barlow decision, it was time to support Equality Utah and bring visibility to the cause. We proudly joined this group in marching for our rights as parents, whether biological or families of choice. I should note that we joined Equality Utah in 2010, our son Jameson's first Utah Pride march!
My True Coming Out
Kate S.
I was sweating and my heart was beating walking down State Street as one of 14 people carrying the largest Leather Pride flag in the United States as part of Salt Lake City's Pride Parade. I was more scared to be seen here in this moment than I had ever been to be seen at Pride. It was scarier, because it said something about me that I was afraid of people knowing. I enjoy pain and submission. I tried to hold my head up because it was Pride, after all. I am not really a lesbian. I am a queer leather boi. Finding that about myself seemed to be the true revolution, and this time, marching in this parade, was my true coming out.
A Clever Expression of Protest
Bub Horne
This is a sensitive issue for poor old Bub, because I'm one of those macho-asshole chefs, who was an equal-opportunity abuser for years before some sensitivity slowly sank into my wildly liberal but thick head: "Chronically single" people have a weird relationship with sexual freedom—that's how I thought. The first time I marched in the parade? Well, gee, I haven't yet! In my defense, I've been a working single parent for the past 10 or more years and worked restaurant hours for 20 years before that. I don't "do" parades—I just don't. But I see the "Rainbow Parade" as something more than just a parade. It's something special, a really clever expression of protest, undressed-up, as a celebration. Over time, God knows it's been too long, I have come to understand that the protest is a seriously profound civil-rights issue, and I'm embarrassed it's taken me so long to see that. The Rainbow Parade is a gentle, artistic and very clever way to celebrate freedom that must be fought for—perhaps as effective a protest as has ever been fought in American history. I confess, it's been a misunderstanding for me, and it's hard to explain, I thought this was all about sex—it's not at all! This is about freedom and love. This year, I will join in to celebrate what I feel is significant progress as a civil-rights movement, because I do "feel" the love, and the freedom!
Visibly Supporting Each Other
Neva Wagner
My first experience with the Pride parade wasn't very long ago. Even though I'm a member of the LGBTQ community, I was someone who actively sought to avoid attending or participating in Pride parades, due to stigma and stereotypes that I had heard about them. In 2014, my wife convinced me to get up early with her and a friend, stake out a good spot, and watch Salt Lake City's Pride parade. As the first few entries passed, I began seeing friends marching with different organizations. Eventually, my church, Wasatch Presbyterian, passed and my fantastic church family convinced my wife, friend and I to march with them. Today, I look back and can say that my prejudices about Pride parades were absolutely incorrect. A Pride parade isn't an "us vs. them," or a hypersexualized marketing scheme, as I had erroneously believed. Rather, it is a couple hours where allies and LGBTQ folk come together in a visible way to support each other, embrace our identities and remind the world that we are here.
Family Bonds of Respect and Joy
Greg & Angela Green
Angela and I brought our three kids to walk in the 2010 Pride parade as part of the Corroon/Allen gubernatorial campaign. Our group walked in front of Queer Utah Aquatic Club in the parade, so we gravitated to the back of our group to join in their dancing and music. Our youngest daughter has epilepsy and a mild left-side paralysis from an in-utero stroke, and it's one of the reasons that we were there that day. We have always looked for ways to be engaged and to share stories that grow empathy and understanding. The Pride event is a celebration about culture and community that embraces everyone. We wanted our family to be a part of an event whose message promoted positive perceptions about who we are. As Richard Bach wrote, "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's lives. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof."
"Just Married"
Bella Hall
In 2011, after moving to Utah from liberal Oregon, I participated in my first Utah Pride Parade in Salt Lake City. I rode proudly in the passenger seat of a fancy convertible with my handsome, soon-to-be "husbutch," Babs De Lay, at the wheel. We had special signs made for the sides of the vehicle that said something like "Engaged—but can't legally marry in Utah!" As we drove gaily forward, we waved madly and were cheered on by all of the parade goers. At the time, it was fantastic. Fast-forward to a quiet winter day in 2013, when we received news of a most unexpected Supreme Court decision. We raced to the courthouse and were legally married on that fateful day. In 2014's Pride Parade, we donned our white ensembles and marched with the "Just Married" contingent along with so many of the other happy couples. It was truly magical.
Intense & Intoxicating
Michael Aaron, QSaltLake editor/publisher
When Connell O'Donovan announced the first gay march from the Utah Capitol and past Temple Square, there was no doubt in my mind I'd make the trek. Just a few years before, I had scraped every nickel from every crevice to attend the March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. The intensity of what you feel when surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people just like you—people who were hard to find growing up—is intoxicating. And while the numbers of this first march in Utah were only in the hundreds, these were a few hundred of my friends, my people. The feeling as you are walking and laughing and chanting and waving at cars and cat-calling bewildered onlookers on our own ground is intense. It is also intoxicating. In the end, although very few people were on the sidelines to stand witness, we celebrated another accomplishment, another milestone. In all things, there is a first, and we were part of that first. And Utah was changed ever-so-slightly one more time.
