Brigham Young would hate what SLC has become—and that's why we love it.
Small Lake City
By Cat Palmer
Salt Lake City is a town of delightful contradictions. Nestled between the towering Wasatch Mountains and the salty expanse of the Great Basin, it's a place where devout tradition and progressive rebellion coexist in an endlessly fascinating dance.
If there's one thing we can say with certainty, it's this: Brigham Young would absolutely hate what this city has become. The man who once proclaimed, "This is the place," would likely be looking for the nearest exit. And that's precisely why we love it.
For a city designed to be a haven of Mormon orthodoxy, SLC has gone rogue in the most glorious way. Sure, the LDS headquarters still looms large over Temple Square, and the influence of the faith is woven into the city's DNA. But beyond the shadows of those historic spires, something radical has taken root: a counterculture that thrives on pushing boundaries, questioning authority and celebrating the very things that would have made old Brigham's corset-laced soul shudder.
Take our craft beer scene—once the stuff of sacrilege, now a badge of honor. Breweries like Fisher, SaltFire, Shades and so many others are crafting ales so good they could convert a teetotaler. Then there's the LGBTQ scene, which has flourished despite Utah's conservative leanings.
The annual Utah Pride Festival and the recently-launched SLC Pride are spectacles of joy, defiance and dazzling self-expression, proving that queer culture isn't just surviving here—it's thriving. And we must remember, we are nothing without the "T."
If that wasn't enough to send Brother Brigham into a celestial tantrum, Black History Month was absolutely slamming this year. From powerful spoken word performances at FICE, art at The Leonardo and poetry at UPC, the city showed up in force to honor Black excellence. Brigham, who infamously retreated into exclusionary policies, would be fuming. What's more, we have excellent celebrations for Indigenous Peoples' Day
Speaking of defying expectations, Utah's Queer Film Festival is another glorious affront to Brigham's old-school sensibilities. Celebrating LGBTQ+ stories, for over two decades, on the big screen? Scandalous! But let's not forget the ultimate irony—Brigham's own son, B. Morris Young, occasionally performed in full drag as Madam Pattirini. Maybe those pioneers weren't who we thought they were, after all.
Our City of Salt is not the place ole Brigham envisioned. It is, in so many ways, better. It's a city that embraces change, innovation and individuality—where our local coffee shops flourish next to church houses, where tattoos outnumber missionary name tags and where the people who might have once been outsiders are now shaping the culture in exhilarating ways.
So here's to Salt Lake—the city that probably makes Brigham Young roll over inside of his grave. May we continue to make him uncomfortable, one craft brew, drag show and artfully rebellious act at a time.
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