Pride Issue 2022 

• Trenton Watson

A Community Exhausted
By Sue Robbins
Pride Issue guest editor

Welcome to City Weekly's 2022 Pride Issue. June is LGBTQ Pride Month, and this is certainly a big year for it. After two years of limited events due to the pandemic, we are going to make a huge return. The need for coming together is clear.

The attacks on our community continue to increase in this divisive political climate. Across the nation, proposed legislation targets our community, and especially our precious transgender youth. We've seen many of these bills pass, blocking transgender youth from participating in sports and from receiving necessary medical care.

We've seen our community's very existence attacked in schools, from the attempts to block discussion of sexual orientation and gender identity in classrooms to the removal of books, flags and "safe zone" stickers that help our youth to feel welcome and safe and allow our educators to demonstrate solidarity and support.

School board meetings have become war zones where small, hateful groups target the LGBTQ community and its allies, using terms like "grooming" and "indoctrination" to frame us as abusers.

Outside of laws and school board meetings, we've seen extremely harmful attacks through executive action by state governors across the nation. In Texas, state employees were required to turn in the families of transgender youth for investigation by child services; in Florida, the passing of the "Don't Say Gay" law has deepened divisions and spawned political infighting across the state.

Based on the leaked draft of a Supreme Court majority opinion suggesting that Roe v. Wade will be overturned, it's reasonable to expect that hard-won LGBTQ rights will also be fully in the crosshairs of the political right. Judicial uncertainty is cause for alarm in our political environment as it opens the door for other rights such as marriage equality to be targeted.

This is how we find our nation as we celebrate Pride Month in 2022. Protesting and standing up for our rights is a mainstay of our history beginning in 1966 at Gene Compton's Cafeteria in San Francisco's Tenderloin district and later at the Stonewall Inn in New York City in 1969.

Leaders such as Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera and Harvey Milk—among many others—gave us messages of resistance and protest. Their leadership brought us together to fight through the AIDS/HIV pandemic that's ravaged our community since 1981, through the fight for marriage equality and, now through modern-day attacks on our communities by legislatures across the country. Efforts to defend our rights are ongoing, as we are drawn into battles aimed at us throughout the year.

But then, each Pride Month, we come together and celebrate. We march and rally. All of these elements of Pride are important. We rally and march so we can increase our visibility and raise our voices. And we celebrate because we deserve to share in the joy of who we are. It's a time to lift and heal from the battles we have endured throughout the year.

There's an ever-evolving discussion about whether Pride Month should be primarily a celebration or a protest. Pride Month is aligned with the anniversary of the Stonewall riots, and our marches have a long historical meaning to us. Coming together to celebrate also has helped heal our community and has given us a place of belonging. Pride Month is important to each of us in our own way, and I invite everyone to participate in the activities and celebrations that speak to you.

Pride Month is also a time for us to reflect on all that is happening and what we may be facing in the coming years. With all we are going through, community is our strength. Together, we are stronger, louder and more impactful. Let's move forward with the power of a fully connected and supportive community.

click to enlarge

If you are an ally, thank you for being here. The advancement of a marginalized minority community is aided when others recognize horrific wrongs being done and choose to not sit idly by. We need each one of you, we need you speaking up in our defense, and we absolutely need you lifting our voices.

I thank City Weekly for this Pride Month edition. Now, let's fill the month with our love of community. And let's rally, march, protest, educate, celebrate, fly our colors proudly and then, continue fighting like the amazing and fierce people we have always been.

Sue Robbins is a woman who is transgender, intersex and pansexual. She is currently a member the Equality Utah Transgender Advisory Council and is a past board chair of both the Utah Pride Center and Transgender Education Advocates of Utah.

Don't Call it a Comeback
Salt Lake's Pride celebration finds new urgency in an old fight.
By Benjamin Wood

It's a timeworn cliche to describe something as "Back—and bigger than ever," but the adage feels unavoidably appropriate as Pride Week returns to Salt Lake City.

COVID-19 saw organizers at the Utah Pride Center pivot to a more intimate and solemn gathering with its story garden, a self-guided outdoor exhibit celebrating the LGBTQ community. But in 2022, Pride is back to a full-throated roar with the traditional two-day festival at Washington Square, an expanded parade route through downtown and a packed schedule of events that's already underway as of press time.

• File Photo

"It is eight full days of Pride events, which is something we've never done before," said Pride Week director Emily Walker. "It's been three years since we've been able to do something big. This is a chance for our community to come back out and be together and feel safe and heard. And [to] understand that they have support and are part of a community that is way bigger than they think it is in Utah."

That mission is as important as ever this year, with a surge in anti-LGBTQ hostility within the political right and a national backtracking on legal equality after a period of rapid progress. Transgender children have been the target of a particularly aggressive legislative assault. And an emboldened conservative supermajority on the U.S. Supreme Court has signaled it is ready—if not anxious—to peel back seemingly established constitutional protections.

• Courtesy Photo

"There are a lot of rights that are under assault," said Benjamin Carr, co-CEO of the Utah Pride Center. "The climate is incredibly conservative in this state. It's really important for the Utah Pride Center to stand up and be heard."

Upcoming Pride Week events include the traditional Thursday evening interfaith service at First Baptist Church (777 S. 1300 East, SLC) and Friday's rally and march at the Utah State Capitol (350 N. State, SLC). Friday's rally will also be bookended by a rooftop after-party for adults at Club Verse (609 S. State, SLC) and Youth Pride at Washington Square prior to the march at the Capitol.

"It's a place for the youth to be in their own space before the festivities," Walker said.

Pride Week culminates with the marquee weekend events: the two-day festival opening on Saturday and the Pride Parade, led this year by transgender youth, scheduled to begin at 10 a.m. Sunday.

A new, 13-block parade route encircles the Washington Square festival grounds, giving most spectators a 2- to 3-block walk to the festival afterward. The new route also enhances accessibility, Walker said, allowing space for three "anchor" locations with an emcee, first aid and water stations and seating for passholders and individuals with disabilities.

"A lot of people who require ADA access and struggle with a mobility disability really struggle at our parade," Walker said. "We wanted to make sure they had a specified, designated place where they wouldn't be trampled or stood in front of."

Portions of 2021's story garden will also be on display throughout the week at the Salt Lake City Main Library (210 E. 400 South, SLC).

"We're showcasing poignant pieces from last year's event that we did in place of Pride," Walker said.

Another holdover from the pandemic years will be the virtual streaming of most Pride Week events. And Carr noted that outside of Pride Week, a primary function of the Utah Pride Center is to provide counseling and mental health services, which are increasingly available in a hybrid format.

"During COVID, we obviously had to go online for most of that programming and therapy," Carr said. "That is continuing now, so there are ways for people across the state to participate."

Walker said that in future years, the Pride Center hopes to organize flag-raising events outside of Salt Lake County with the help of local partner organizations from Logan to St. George. She emphasized that while the main Pride events in Salt Lake showcase the size and strength of Utah's LGBTQ community, regional events and even individual demonstrations of solidarity carry an outsize weight of cultural support.

"Pride Festival has always been good at underlining that, right? We're here, we're proud, there's lots of us. But it also gives us a chance to show the community that we have a lot of allies in this state and a lot of people working toward better equality," Walker said. "Put a flag up! Get one of our lawn signs and show support throughout the month."

As conservative as Utah is known to be, both Walker and Carr remarked on the high level of LGBTQ support in the state, and particularly in Salt Lake City. Carr joked about moving to the area and getting used to the volume of Pride flags that appear during June.

"I thought to myself, are all these people gay?" he said. "There is a segment of the city who is very much in support of LGBTQ rights. There definitely is a backlash to the conservative climate, which is really empowering to see."

Walker said an important part of Pride Week is announcing the presence of LGBTQ people in Utah. And after so many years apart, she expects this year's announcement to be particularly loud, and proud.

"This is a record-breaking sponsorship year for the festival," she said. "Utah is a lot more progressive than people think. We're changing and we're evolving. And people are realizing that they have a bigger voice than that of their parents."

• File Photo

Utah Pride Week 2022
Highlights of Utah Pride week

Thursday, June 2
Pride Interfaith Service (All ages)
7 p.m., First Baptist Church of Salt Lake City, free.

11th Annual City Weekly Pride Pageant (21+) 8 p.m., Metro Music Hall,
615 W. 100 South, $15 advance/$20 day of show,
cwstore.cityweekly.net

Friday, June 3
Youth Pride (ages 13-20)
6 p.m., Washington Square, $10.

Rainbow Rally & Glow March (All ages)
8:30 p.m., Utah State Capitol, ends at Library Plaza, free.

Rainbow Glow Rooftop After-Party (21+)
10 p.m., Club Verse, 609 S. State, SLC, $10.

Saturday, June 4
Utah Pride Festival, Day 1 (All ages)
1 to 11 p.m., Washington Square, 451 S. State, SLC,
$15 single ticket, weekend/VIP/other passes available.

Sunday, June 5
Utah Pride Parade (All ages)
10 a.m., begins at 200 West and 200 South, ends at 200 East and 700 South,
additional anchor location at 200 South and 400 East, free.

Utah Pride Festival, Day 2 (All ages)
11 a.m. to 7 p.m., Washington Square, 451 S. State, SLC,
$15 single ticket, weekend/VIP/other passes available.

Rainbow Connection
Utah Pride Center spokesman Kevin Randall on the state of Pride and defending progress.

For three decades, the Utah Pride Center has served as the beating heart of the state's LGBTQ+ community. In hard times, its programs and services are a refuge of support and safety. In good times, its events champion the beautiful diversity of human life and the hard-won gains on the path to equality.

So what kind of times do we find ourselves in now? As ever, a little bit of both.

Ahead of this year's Pride Week—which sees the return of the Pride Festival and Pride Parade to downtown Salt Lake City after a time of pandemic-prompted quietude—City Weekly caught up with Pride Center public relations spokesman Kevin Randall to chat about the causes for concern and, more importantly, celebration in 2022.

City Weekly: As Utahns come together for Pride, what is the general state of LGBTQ+ rights in the state and nation?
Kevin Randall: Right now, queer people are enjoying the rights that past LGBTQ-rights advocates and allies fought very hard to secure for us, including the right to marry who we love, to secure employment and housing, as well as education and public accommodations, to name a few.

But there is still work to be done and the Utah Pride Center—along with many community partners—is trying to maintain and improve those rights and push for equality as they are continuously placed under debate in this country. Transgender youth are currently being used as political pawns to pass discriminatory laws that aim to ban them from participating in sports, including Utah's HB11, which will go into effect on July 1.

CW: How can individuals productively contribute to advancing equality?
KR: To quote the words of Harvey Milk, a great LGBTQ rights advocate and leader: "Rights are won only by those who make their voices heard." It will take all of us speaking up for equality to ensure our rights and freedoms are not rolled back.

CW: Does this year's Pride Week have a particular theme or focus?
KR: There are two main focuses. The theme for the Rainbow Rally & Glow March—happening on June 3 at 8:30 p.m. at the Utah State Capitol—is "Two Steps Forward, No Steps Back." We feel this is our rallying cry and marching orders.

Frances Pruyn, former Utah Pride Center board member and Rainbow Rally manager said it best: "As the result of the engineered shift of the Supreme Court and gerrymandered legislatures, women, LGBTQ individuals and people of color are facing a huge diminution of rights through judgments like overturning Roe v. Wade and legislation like Florida's 'Don't Say Gay' law. We must continue to take two steps forward and not allow any steps back."

The other focus of the week's events are to provide a safe and affirming space for the LGBTQ community to express pride, have fun and gather together.

CW: In addition to attending Pride events, how can individual Utahns celebrate and promote Pride Week and Pride Month?
KR: There are many ways, including posting a Pride flag on your home or a yard sign on your property, turning to social media to share your individual story or supporting local businesses who are LGBTQ owned and operated. Whichever way you choose to show pride is up to you, we just want people to know they are loved, they belong and that they are accepted for who they are.

CW: What do you hope Utahns of all stripes take away from Pride?
KR: The Utah Pride Center has worked hard to provide an inclusive experience for everyone so that we all can enjoy Pride Week and Month. Although what people take away from this experience is very personal, we hope people gain a sense of self-worth, motivation to advocate for equality, appreciation for our diverse community and to know they are loved and accepted for who they truly are.

CW: UPC has new leadership team and a new-ish location (1380 S. Main, SLC), what does the future look like?
KR: The Utah Pride Center has experienced a lot of change over the past few years. The pandemic was not kind to nonprofit organizations, and we are no exception.

But with change brings an opportunity for growth and innovation. We've moved to a co-CEO leadership model, ramped up our virtual capabilities to reach more people in the state and are in the process of building a mental health department where people can feel safe and supported.

And with the help of our community participating in the Utah Pride Festival—our biggest fundraiser of the year—we are confident we'll be able to continue to provide life-saving programs and services to the people who really need it.

• File Photo

Authentic Lives
Utahns remember the pursuit of their truer selves.
By Carolyn Campbell

In 2007, Sophia Hawes-Tingey saw a counselor about her feelings, desires, cravings and fantasies related to becoming a woman. Forty-one years old at the time, she had begun experimenting with dressing—and passing—as female.

But she was 16 when she passed as a woman for the first time.

"It was Halloween," Hawes-Tingey recalls. "My mom let me borrow her wig and a dress and helped with the makeup."

Hawes-Tingey remembers going in costume to visit her mother at the pizza restaurant where she worked and where Hawes-Tingey was friends with several of the employees. She heard someone call out "Check five!" as she entered, which she learned meant that a "hot" customer had entered, a reference to the restaurant's four ovens.

Decades later, Hawes-Tingey started visiting a Unitarian Universalist church, initially presenting as male but soon attending weekly as Sophia.

"Interacting with my deeper-level nature, I started feeling like some traits fit my masculine side, and some were part of my feminine expression," said Hawes-Tingey, chairwoman of the Transgender Inclusion Project.

As Hawes-Tingey describes, her masculine persona included her logical side, while her emotional, sensitive and nurturing traits were more aligned with her feminine identity. Looking back on that time, she said she felt a strong, internal feminine energy while seated in a circle with 40 other women at a Vagina Monologues audition. Then, at a mall, wearing only foundation as makeup, she was greeted as "ma'am."

"I started to realize I was passing," she said. "If I went to the bank, I was 'ma'am' until I presented my driver's license and credit card."

When she decided to start going to work full-time as her feminine self, she held an informal ceremony the Friday before to thank her former male identity "for protecting me all those years."

"I had to let it go," Hawes-Tingey said. "Then, I gently fired it."

After the ceremony, she removed her male clothing for the last time. She said she then had the joy of "letting those two ways of thinking synergize, which allowed me to become a more complete human being."

She adds that it still tickles her when a doctor asks if she thinks she might be pregnant, or how long it has been since her last period. Her response is always that it's been quite a while.

For LGBTQ people, "there are so many transitions to experience—emotional, physical, social and, sometimes, post-surgical—on the way to living authentically," Hawes-Tingey said.

And the transitions don't necessarily stop with the individual, as friends and family members watch their loved ones making shifts in their lives and find their own awareness expanding about the realities of being lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer or one of an infinite number of identies for which acronymical labels fall short.

• Courtesy Photo

Finding Answers
As host of the Human Stories podcast, Jill Hazard Rowe regularly features in-depth and inspiring LGBTQ stories. And yet, as recently as 11 years ago, Rowe thought that being gay was merely a choice people made. "I didn't study the issue beyond the information that the church I attended fed me," she recalls. "I never took it to my Maker. I didn't find my own answers. I never thought I needed them."

In November 2011, Rowe knew that her husband planned to talk with their son, Hunter, about new friends he had recently brought home. "We suspected they were gay," Rowe recalls.

That evening, she and her husband crossed paths in their kitchen. She asked if he had spoken with Hunter, and he responded with a heartfelt "Oh, yeah."

"I knew what was going down," Rowe said.

Her husband revealed that during their discussion, Hunter had disclosed that he is gay. But he had also asked his father not to tell Rowe.

"That's how good a Mormon I was," she said. "He didn't want me to know."

Rowe told her husband she needed to speak directly with her son. And later that night, Hunter came into his parents' bedroom and came out to her.

Rowe said she experienced her own transition as she and her son expressed their love for each other, and when Hunter told her that while she had told him all his life that she loved him, that night was the first time he truly believed her.

"When your child comes out, you mourn the loss. But then you can celebrate who they really are," Rowe said. "I changed a lot at that moment. I continue to change and learn and challenge my previous ways of thinking."

Now, Rowe says that when life places a frightening door in her path, "I just give myself permission to go through it and discover what's on the other side."

• File Photo

Time to Heal
Candice Metzler, a local therapist who is transgender, says that Utah's LGBTQ community is both growing and broadening. As more people feel they can safely live as their authentic self, she said, their individual expression and gender fluidity add to the palette of LGBTQ identiy.

"The LGBTQ world is incredibly diverse in how people claim and experience their sexuality," Metzler said. "We are starting to understand what that all looks like."

"It's exciting to see people increasingly getting out there and taking their lives to new places," she continued. "We are seeing more and more people successfully finding ways to live their lives."

Ann Pack remembers her former wife feeling that they should wait until their daughter was an adult before telling her that Pack was transitioning to live as a woman. "She initially thought we should not tell her and keep it hidden as long as possible," Pack recalls. "I, of course, felt differently."

Their daughter had noticed that Pack was frequently meeting with the leader of their Latter-day Saints congregation. She asked her mom, "Why is Dad meeting with the bishop?" Pack's ex started to invent an explanation, but then had a feeling she should tell her daughter the truth.

"We had already introduced her to our transgender friends. She knew what it meant," Pack remembers. "We sat her down and told her I was transgender and transitioning."

Pack's daughter thought her parents were about to tell her they were divorcing. "I reassured her I would always be her dad," Pack said. "We were adamant that we would stay together and do our best to navigate this." Over the next few years, Pack said she tried to transition as slowly as possible for both her wife and her daughter. "I knew it was going to impact her. It's hard when you know things will hurt people you love," she said.

Pack's appearance changed. She no longer looked like a dad.

It was hard when she and her daughter were together publicly. When people referred to her as her daughter's mom, she said, "it was a big warm hug of euphoria" that validated Pack's gender. But her daughter hated it. She asked Pack to correct people who assumed she was the mom.

"No, I'm her dad," Pack would say. She didn't want her daughter to see how happy the mistaken identity had made her. "One day, I hope my daughter will understand that I tried to do my best. I wish I could have been the husband my ex needed and the dad my kid wanted."

Pack and her ex separated last year. Their divorce became final months ago. Pack understands that her daughter is grieving, and she's allowing her daughter to dictate their relationship.

"She's trying to process it all. It will take time to heal," Pack said. "I'm loving and being there for her when she wants me to be."

• File Photo

Moving On
Thirteen years ago, 57-year-old Jay Rosenberg decided, "I'm divorced, single and moving to a new place. It's time to stop living a lie."

Fearful at first—because he had worked for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and been involved in the Mormon Youth Symphony and Chorus—he initially came out only to his family and friends.

"I was afraid I would lose friends I'd had for 50 years," Rosenberg said. "Now 90 percent of them still support me."

He regularly returns to Salt Lake to visit his four sons and daughter—and to attend Utah Pride. And although he was excommunicated from his adopted Latter-day Saint faith, he stays in touch with friends from church, including his own former mission companions.

Now living in Sioux City, Iowa, he has opened the local Pride celebration several times by singing the national anthem. He met his current partner, Tony, online.

"He's attractive, but his intellect truly attracted me," Rosenberg said.

The two lived together for a short while, "then he asked me to marry him," Rosenberg said. He said Tony's parents were far more supportive than his own Jewish mother, who he recalls asking, "Why don't you just wait until I die?" But after announcing their future wedding, Tony successfully charmed Rosenberg's mother, who is now happy that he's her son-in-law.

The above stories render experiences of coming to terms with living authentically. And the benefits of such living "are pretty simple," says Metzler. "Living an authentic life means being seen for who you are and being able to be a participant instead of an observer," she said. "It's an opportunity to live a healthier way."

• John Taylor
• The Sun Trapp is named for two storied LGBTQ bars—the Sun Tavern and the Trapp—from Salt Lake City’s past.

Out on the Town
Five decades of women's bars, brawls and badassery in SLC.
By Babs de Lay

It was 50 years ago that I came out of the closet, recognizing that I was not heterosexual. I didn't dislike sex with men, I just had no emotional connection with my sex partners.

Back in the early 1970s, the world was changing rapidly in this country, from the Vietnam War protests to high inflation and gas lines. It was a tumultuous time from coast to coast, when African Americans, Native peoples, gays and lesbians, women and other marginalized people were protesting and rioting for equality and fair treatment.

I marched along with so many others demanding our rights. Some lesbians I knew threw in the towel—seeing no end to discrimination—and moved to the Pacific Northwest to create "women's land" separatist communities, often in the woods, where no man was to enter.

Sneaking into gay bars like the Sun Tavern and Radio City in Salt Lake City was easy if you were underage, because it took little effort to forge a fake driver's license back then. A friend and I wanted desperately to go inside the only women's bar at the time—Perkys—located just west of where the Triad Center stands today.

We didn't know if our fake IDs would work, but we fortified our spirits with cheap beer at the Sun and walked under the viaduct and over to the little shack that was hopefully going to be our new hangout and place of opportunity to meet women. As we approached the front door, I shoved my buddy to go ahead of me, but damned if the door didn't open!

Lo and behold, there was a small sign on the door: "Thanks for all your business! We're retiring to Idaho!" It was closed forever, as Perky (nickname) and her partner followed their bliss to a small ranch up north to raise sheep.

The oldest gay bar west of the Mississippi was Radio City Lounge at 147 S. State. I performed there as the first drag "king" the local boys had ever seen and won the talent show for my rendition of "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof.

It was a men's bar, and with Perky's gone, there was a great need for empowered women coming out of the closet to gather in safe spaces. The Sun Tavern was originally located where Vivint Arena is now located, and a women's bar opened next door originally known as The Upton Place, then later as Sisters.

In my opinion, the unique thing about the LGBTQ community here is that we have always had a mutual understanding that we are a minority in Utah, and we need to stick together. Women were welcome in men's bars and vice versa, and it remains that way today.

Gay bashing was common in the Downtown area, where the majority of gay bars were located. Both men and women were victims of thugs, and we all had to be careful leaving the bars to avoid being beaten with baseball bats. On the flip side—we marched, we became visible and some locals were terrified.

When Florida orange juice spokeswoman Anita Bryant came to the 1977 Utah State Fair to perform her Christian pop songs, the LGBTQ community came out to protest her anti-homosexual ranting and ravings. The entire Utah State Fairgrounds was surrounded by state and local police in anticipation of the chaos we were allegedly going to bring to the event.

Actually, our only plan was to sit in the stands as she began to perform, and then to stand up en masse and walk out. About 100 of us did just that, without incident. We were out and proud.

In the 1980s, another women's bar opened—Puss and Boots on Redwood Road. It was the largest bar of its type ever to open in Utah, and women from Idaho and Wyoming joined local lesbians, bisexuals and gay men on the weekends to dance the night away.

After that bar closed, there was a pause in women's bars, but plenty of gay bars still attracted the gay and straight community for drag shows, great music and dancing. Club Jam (closed), Club Sound (closed), Try-Angles (open) and The Sun Tavern (damaged by a tornado, but living on in spirit at The Sun Trapp) provided entertainment. In time, a new bar, The Paper Moon, opened for women.

It closed about a decade ago, along with Mo Diggity's, a women's sports bar that I opened with two former employees of The Paper Moon.

Today, more bars are opening but none are specifically labeled as gay bars for women. But there are plenty of bars that are hella gay friendly in Utah.

In the late '80s there were an estimated 200 lesbian bars across the country. Last year, NBC news reported that there were only 16 lesbian bars left in the U.S., compared to about 1,000 bars that cater to gay men and mixed-gender LGBTQ crowds.

This is sad because it's difficult for gay women to meet and socialize, and thus social media has become necessary for singles to meet. Recent reporting from PBS also addressed the issue of the end of lesbian bars, suggesting the trend was exacerbated by the prevalence of dating apps.