Opinion: Minneapolis People's Pride Shows How To Do Pride Right

This past Pride, my girlfriend Pattie (known online as the gaming YouTuber Storster) and I attended Minneapolis People’s Pride, an event that served as a direct protest to its corporate counterpart Twin Cities Pride. People’s Pride is special to me — I’ve known about it since before moving to Minneapolis after a close friend attended last year and got me one of my favorite shirts of all time. Every impression I’ve had of it has been nothing short of positive; readers may recall how in April I interviewed one of the organizers of People’s Pride and only had good things to say about what I heard. Now, about a month after attending, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my experiences.

And holy shit, I loved it.

Prior to this, the only Pride event I had ever gone to was Cincinnati Pride in 2023 — an event filled with corporations selling overpriced products, police at every corner, sanitized renditions of the queer experience, and a vibe tailored for upper middle class white cisgender heterosexual ‘allies’ that only know about queer people through the gay guys on Modern Family. 

It was, in perhaps the kindest words I can muster, a huge disappointment. It’s no surprise then that I skipped out on 2024’s Cincinnati Pride after hearing reports of its organizers endorsing Israel, even more expensive products, and security guards frisking queers at the entrance. 

While this had primed me for the worst with Pride events, People’s Pride gave nothing but good vibes right from the start. After parking a few blocks away in the notoriously queer and leftist Minneapolis neighborhood of Powderhorn, I saw countless visibly queer people donning pride flags, dyed hair, piercings, tattoos, tattered punk clothes, collars, leather gear, pup masks, and often even full-on nudity approaching the same loose gathering of people around the neighborhood’s premier park. There wasn’t a corporation in sight, and there sure as hell weren’t any cops either. It was, no exaggeration, fucking amazing.

Entering the event, I was at a loss for words. Pattie and I walked through crowds of people, gorgeous transfems towed around on leashes that exposed me as a useless dyke, booths laid around offering harm reduction supplies, free drinking water, arts and crafts booths, Free Palestine banners, and plenty of resources for disability accessibility. This wasn’t an event designed for faux progressivism to forward the portfolio of shameless careerists; it was built ground-up by the community, for the community.

To get our bearings, we decided to do a once-over of all the offerings of the event. The vast, vast majority of stands were from local mutual aid groups and queer community circuits; rock climbing groups, street medics, supply distros, food production, HIV prevention info, a hacktivist group, a dyke roller derby, and community gatherings galore. The few things available for purchase were all handmade items by independent queer artists, with almost everything available on a sliding scale and no product costing over $20.

Eventually, we got hungry and tried to figure out where to eat. After passing a stage with live performances from a bunch of local queer artists of color, we found a huge line for free meals. This was yet again in stark contrast to what I was used to. Cincy Pride had no free food to offer; People’s Pride had free, fresh-grilled burgers and hot dogs – vegan options available! – along with plenty of veggies, salads, and condiments to have on the side.

We met up with some friends and chatted for a while. At this point, I had donned my collar, and had already gotten numerous flirty looks from other queers walking around. I had never felt safer in a public place to just exist as myself. There was not an ounce of judgment from people, the thousands of attendees all unified in radical politics, sex positivity, and jiving with queer liberation. I’m so used to going in public and having to sanitize myself as much as possible to avoid dirty looks and having insults shouted at me for just existing, and yet here I felt as if I was fully accepted as part of a community that was more than eager to welcome me.

After enjoying the music in the park for a while, we engaged more with the countless radical stands strewn throughout the park. Run by members of the community eager to chat with People’s Pride attendees, the stands were giving away zines about topics like prison liberation and mutual aid, focusing on getting attendees involved with local organizing. They gave out promotional stickers and buttons for free, showing ways people can get involved as they so choose. The list of vendors and tables is lengthy, so readers interested in learning more about the event by checking out the website, Facebook, and Instagram pages of People’s Pride.

I’ve gushed about this event plenty, but my overall point is that this is a shining example of what Pride should be. Pride was originally a riot, and while denizens of corporate Pride events love to tout this, they forget to practice what they preach as they allow cops and corporations to dictate what is and isn’t acceptable at each event. Shortly after I attended, for instance, I chatted with someone who went to the corporate Pride, and she unprompted went on a whole rant about ‘no kink at Pride’ while bragging about the politicians and NGOs that attended.

Fuck that.

That isn’t what Pride is about. Pride is about including everyone cast away from broader society, about including people who are fucked over and don’t get a place anywhere else. The focus on corporate sanitization of everything for a family-friendly audience based on garbage fundamentalist Christian values has led to a total devaluation of what Pride is even about. If we don’t include the most marginalized, the weirdest, the freakiest among our community, then we sure as hell can’t call it Pride – it’s just rainbows strewn over capitalists fucking over our predominantly poor community.

I firmly believe that every city should have its own People’s Pride. This emerged as a protest of corporate Pride and a simultaneous celebration of being queer. If we lose our roots and reject that, if we lose what makes being queer liberating, then we’re just reinforcing the very hierarchies that get so many of us killed. Being queer is about being radical, about rejecting oppressive bullshit and taking care of those who get fucked over. It is not about paying lip service to rich assholes who want us dead while claiming to mourn the millions trapped in homelessness and poverty.

It’s time we return to our roots and make Pride a riot once again.

Thank you to Ryan Fae (@ryan.staticnoi.se) for editing this article.

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