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Drag queens say Salt Lake City’s scene is thriving, and Latter-day Saint culture is a big influence
03-29-2026 By McKinna Baird
Performers cite the camaraderie of being “all just kind of stuck in the desert together” for the growth of SLC’s diverse drag community.
ASUU panel warns drying Great Salt Lake ‘concerns U,’ raises public health concerns
03-27-2026 By Will Ruzanski
Panelists warn shrinking lake levels expose toxic dust with arsenic and heavy metals, worsening air quality along the Wasatch Front.
‘A really sad loss’: Weber State students talk about life after closing campus centers in DEI purge
03-23-2026 By Mia Salgado
Without identity-based centers, students say “there’s less visibility” for marginalized groups on the Ogden campus.
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Salt Lake City is home to a thriving and diverse drag community, according to some of its members, who say its growth isn’t despite the dominance of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Utah, but because of it.
“A lot of, weirdly enough, Mormon culture does kind of play into why it’s such a unique scene,” said drag performer Mik Jäger. (All the performers in this article are identified by their drag names.)
“We’re like, about five or six hours from Vegas, six to eight hours away from Denver. … We [are] all just kind of stuck in the desert together,” said Jäger, who’s been performing since 2021.
“There’s always been a long history of drag and counterculture here in Utah, because we’re the headquarters of the church,” Jager said. “What makes it empowering — especially if you grew up in the church and you exited Mormonism — there’s just a certain camaraderie that goes with that, choosing to live how you want.”
Another performer, who goes by Katie, Party of 2, said, “Salt Lake is such an art-driven scene in general, which may be surprising to some people. … And Salt Lake is such a safe haven for queer people that I feel that need and drive for that art and that community base.”
The diversity of Salt Lake City’s drag scene has grown immensely in recent years, according to its participants. The community has welcomed more transgender queens, AFAB (assigned female at birth) queens, kings and nonbinary performers dubbed drag “things.”
“There’s been a lot of work done in the past few years to include performers of different styles, to not just drag performers that are kings or things, but burlesquers [and] musicians,” said Hardy Harr, a drag king based in Salt Lake City. “I do feel like, as a community, we’re pretty good to each other.”
Katie, an AFAB queen who has performed since 2023, also cited the camaraderie of Salt Lake City’s drag performers. “We really draw inspiration from [the] community,” Katie said, ”and just the strength that we get from each other and support we can give to each other."
(McKinna Baird | The Signpost, Weber State University) Drag performer Barbin prepares for a performance at Milk+ in Salt Lake City, March 21, 2026.
That community has persevered through much opposition in recent years. According to a study by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, an independent research group, the U.S. has had more than 200 anti-drag mobilizations in recent years — from online and offline threats to protests and acts of violence.
In 2022, a Salt Lake City tea shop hosted a series of all-ages drag performances, which drew attention from the social media group Libs of TikTok — as well as a January 2023 protest from the Proud Boys militia group, some of them armed, The Salt Lake Tribune reported. The tea shop stopped hosting the drag shows, and show organizers returned to a different venue, with a group called Armed Queers of Salt Lake City providing security.
In March 2023, members of a group called Southern Utah Drag Stars were denied a permit to perform an all-ages show in a St. George park. The group sued two months later, and, in February 2025, the city settled with the group, acknowledging that it violated the group’s First Amendment rights.
According to one drag queen, Gaye, a drag show last fall was canceled a few days after conservative commentator Charlie Kirk was shot and killed on Orem’s Utah Valley University campus in September. “The cancellation,” Gaye said, “was chalked up to safety.”
Gaye, who has been performing for a decade, said performers felt safest walking in drag in the city, as opposed to surrounding suburbs. And, despite the reputation of rigorous security at the Utah Pride Parade, that is where they have felt the most unsafe. “It’s out in the open, and there’s not any bouncers.”
“I feel like there’s no separation from church and state here,” said Barbin, a full-time drag queen in Salt Lake City. “In a town like this, a lot of LGBT people are oppressed just by being themselves.”
(McKinna Baird | The Signpost, Weber State University) Drag performer Barbin prepares backstage at Milk+ in Salt Lake City, with performer Danny Keyes helping pin her costume, on March 21, 2026.
Salt Lake City’s drag community offers a wide range of performance styles and personal backgrounds.
Take, for example, Barbin, who is a transgender woman. She recently started a recurring drag show at the bar MILK+, which features an all-trans cast. “I feel like now, in 2025, we have great trans entertainers here in Salt Lake City, and their drag is amazing,” Barbin said. “So I was like, ‘You know what? Why don’t we just do a show?’”
Besides hosting at MILK+, Barbin has increased her visibility by traveling to other states, and by working in shows with touring queens. In October, she performed with Sasha Colby, the winner of Season 15 of “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” For Halloween, she performed with another “Drag Race” alum, Bosco.
Gaye prefers a cabaret-style show, influenced by jazz and her musical theater background. She performs at bars around Salt Lake City and hosts entertainment at Prohibition in Murray. She also has opened for musician and YouTube performer Todrick Hall, a past judge on “Drag Race” and a performer on Taylor Swift’s video for “You Need to Calm Down.”
Gaye is a “drag mother” to several Utah performers, such as Katie, Party of 2. Gaye nudged Katie and other queer performers into drag, Katie said.
“I play with drag and transformation,” Katie said. “Some people think that you have to have a gender transformation to do drag, and I personally don’t believe that. I think any sort of transformation that you have can play into the art of drag.”
Katie said she aims to infuse a sapphic energy into her performances, whether that be through song choice or engaging with her female audience.
Drag kings are less mainstream, but also part of the scene. One of them is Hardy Harr, who infuses dad rock and all things camp into his performances.
“No matter the performer, you’re still bringing something unique,” he said. “And we don’t all have to do the exact same thing for it to be valid or interesting.”
Like most drag artists — and as his stage name implies — Hardy Harr wants to offer moments of joy to his audience. “I want to elicit laughter,” he said. “I want to make people experience joy with what I put together.”
Mik Jäger presents a more masculine esthetic and uses he/they pronouns. They call their drag style that of a “huge millennial.” Their onstage esthetic also reflects their Asian and Pacific Islander identity.
“I take a lot of inspiration from anime and Kabuki-type styles of what men look like,” they said.
Gaye is a seasoned queen, and has seen Salt Lake City’s drag scene ebb and flow over the years.
“[There are] all of the different kinds of facets of drag you get nowadays,” she said, “but Salt Lake has just always been so eclectic. We’ve seen so many different iterations of the drag scene here.”
Note to readers • McKinna Baird wrote this story as a journalism student at Weber State University. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.
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NOTE TO MEDIA PARTNERS PUBLISHING WORK
We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text: This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. McKinna Baird wrote this story as a journalism student at Weber State University. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
As conservationists estimate the Great Salt Lake will fall to new record lows later this year, the ASUU sustainability board’s Wednesday panel hosted prominent local conservationists in Gardner Commons, including a physician, environmental activists, a lawmaker, and an Indigenous scholar.
With over 50% of the lakebed exposed, the Great Salt Lake is only 36.7% full. Panelists warn the consequences of a shrinking lake already extend far beyond the lake’s shoreline — including worsening air quality, high economic costs and additional public health concerns along the Wasatch Front — and will continue to intensify as the lake dries up.
Four panelists, Dr. Brian Moench, Darren Parry, Alta Fairbourne and Nate Blouin participated in the event.
The exposed lakebed contains heavy metals and toxic dust that, when blown into the air, worsen the Salt Lake Valley’s already poor air quality. Dr. Brian Moench, president and co-founder of Utah Physicians for a Healthy Environment — the largest civic organization of health care professionals in Utah — described the situation as “a toxic soup.”
“The health hazard is under analyzed, under researched, and under reported,” Moench said, referencing “chemical interactions between the dust and the regular urban air pollution that we’re familiar with, creating new chemicals that we didn’t even know existed.”
A 2020 report from Brigham Young University estimates that long-term exposure to Utah’s dirty air can shorten one’s life expectancy by 1.1 to 3.6 years, causing between 2,500 and 8,000 premature deaths each year.
Panelists speak at “This Concerns U” Great Salt Lake event hosted by ASUU on March 25, 2026. (Photo by Will Ruzanski | The Daily Utah Chronicle)
“There are 28 sewage treatment plants that discharge into the Great Salt Lake, either the lake itself or its tributaries,” Moench added. “All the toxic byproducts of modern civilization are in the lake and the lake bed.”
A retired anesthesiologist, Moench recommends using an air purifier in the bedroom and an N95 mask when the valley’s air quality is particularly poor.
Alta Fairbourne, community water organizer for Utah Rivers Council — a grassroots nonprofit dedicated to water conservation — argued conservation strategies are not drastic or “draconian.”
“We don’t need to dry up every single farm in Utah,” she said. “We don’t need to get rid of every single piece of grass. Utah’s the highest per person municipal water user in the country.”
Utah residents consume the most domestic water per capita in the Southwest United States, according to the Salt Lake Tribune. The same article says “Utah’s public supply customers use the most water per capita in the United States,” while paying some of the lowest water rates.
“It’s a false dichotomy to say that we have to prioritize our economy or the environment,” Moench said. “They’re very much one in the same.”
Fairbourne criticized what she described as the Utah Legislature’s lack of serious, material legislation focused on Great Salt Lake water conservation, saying that “I think that’s kind of pacified this fiery public resistance that I truly believe that we need to save the Great Salt Lake.”
“Without a critical eye, it can feel really self assuring that there’s people coming to save us,” she said. “This is a drastic and serious crisis that we are facing in northern Utah, and we need big policy change.”
As a community water organizer, Fairbourne added that she has “definitely been seeing a lot of positive change,” saying she thinks “a lot of people are becoming really aware of the declining Great Salt Lake.”
All four panelists encouraged audience members to join a grassroots advocacy organization to push for environmental conservation.
“It must be addressed, or it will never get any better,” Moench said, encouraging “public pressure in every way possible, protest, writing letters, calling your legislator, everything.”
Students attend ASUU panel about Great Salt Lake on March 25, 2026 in Gardner Commons (Photo by Will Ruzanski | Daily Utah Chronicle)
Darren Parry, former chairman of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation, said that “everybody needs to be involved in [Great Salt Lake conservation] in some way to have that stake in their future,” arguing that tribal leadership is key to land stewardship.
“It’s not a science problem, it’s a values problem … we need to reframe how we look at the issue and get back in tune with nature,” Parry said. “Now we’re looking at the lake not as a resource that we can extract, deplete, develop, use, divert, but we look at as our relative, that we nurture and care for, we need to advocate.”
Utah State Sen. Nate Blouin, D-Millcreek, a progressive candidate running for Utah’s newly drawn first congressional district, emphasized that “this is going to be a problem that requires federal solutions.”
During the Utah Legislature’s 2026 General Session, Blouin sponsored multiple bills aimed at water conservation for the Great Salt Lake, all of which failed. Blouin expressed his desire for more local oversight for the Great Salt Lake, rather than state regulation.
“This is where our population center is, and our voices get left out so much, just based (on) who chairs some of these committees,” he said. “We need to get the young folks involved who are going to be impacted, the tribes that have the knowledge … the public health folks who certainly know about the impact here to our communities.”
Will Ruzanski wrote this story as an emerging journalist at the University of Utah. It is published in partnership with nonprofit Amplify Utah and The Daily Utah Chronicle along with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative, a solutions journalism initiative that partners news, education and media organizations to help inform people about the plight of the Great Salt Lake — and what can be done to make a difference before it is too late. Read all of the collaborative’s stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.
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NOTE TO MEDIA PARTNERS PUBLISHING WORK
We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text: This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Will Ruzanski wrote this story as a journalism student at the University of Utah. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
Ogden • The elimination of identity-based organizations at Weber State University — everything from the LGBTQ+ Resource Center to the Black Cultural Center — is still being felt across the Ogden campus, students who relied on those places say.
“The closure of the cultural centers on campus was a really sad loss for all students. It sent a message that marginalized communities are unwelcome,” said senior Daniela Torres-Roe, who had previously engaged with the Women’s Center on campus.
The closures — which came after the Utah Legislature passed HB261 to eliminate diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) programs at the state’s public institutions — have made it harder for students to find resources based on their identity groups, and left many feeling unsure where they fit on campus, Torres-Roe said.
After the Utah Legislature passed HB261 in January 2024, Weber State officials decided to go a step further than the law’s requirements, and eliminate identity-based centers — such as the LGBTQ+ Resource Center, the Dream Center, the Black Cultural Center, the Native American Cultural Center and the Pan-Asian Cultural Center. The centers’ resources were consolidated into a new Student Success Center, meant to serve all students.
While HB261 did not explicitly require the closure of identity-based centers, Brad Mortensen, then the president of Weber State, wrote in a 2024 Salt Lake Tribune op-ed that the law’s restrictions would have limited the centers’ ability to provide services and “set them up to fail.”
Mortensen, who left Weber State to become president of Utah State University in November, described the decision to close them as “painful,” but said the university chose to shift toward a model focused on supporting all students.
The bill’s sponsor, Rep. Katy Hall, R-South Ogden, has said HB261 protects open dialogue and promotes equal opportunity. “I absolutely believe in inclusion, but I don’t believe in inclusion at the expense of exclusion,” Hall said in a 2024 YouTube interview with Cari Bartholomew, a school-choice advocate and former Utah State Board of Education candidate.
The newly created Division of Student Access and Success was not created to replace the old Division of Equity, Diversity and Inclusion, said the new division’s former vice president, Jessica Oyler, but to bring together student support services. Staff was reassigned to new roles, Oyler said, including positions in the new Basic Needs Center.
Brandon Flores, executive director for student retention and success, said the transition “was a difficult shift, because some positions and programming were tied directly to identity-specific services.”
“We worked to maintain support while ensuring compliance with the new law,” Flores said. “Your initial reaction to the transition is of frustration and confusion, especially from those who benefitted from the centers and the staff that worked there.”
(Kennedy Camarena | The Signpost) Weber State University students hang out in the former site of the LGBT Resource Center and Women's Center, one of several identity-based campus organizations that closed in 2025.
For students, though, the loss of identity-based spaces had an effect, one some didn’t see until they were gone. For many, they were more than simply offices, but spaces that catered to distinct communities with unique needs — providing academic guidance, organizing cultural events, providing mentorship or just a place to exist without explanation.
Jose Barut, a senior majoring in computer science, said the transition made it difficult to form the cultural connections he expected to find at Weber State.
“I thought it could be easy to connect with others by joining the Asian Club or Filipino Club, but I couldn’t find them at all,” Barut said.
Barut said that he has only interacted with the Student Success Center because he became more active in campus activities and groups. From there, he met new advisers and students.
“Having gone through the effort of trying to find identity-related support or advocacy services has been a struggle. I feel like a place with Asian in the name would make it easier to find something,” he said.
Anayeli Rodriguez, president of the Hispanic Area Council, described a noticeable decline in student engagement. Rodriguez has been a part of the council for several years, and she said she has watched participation shift as programming became harder to promote without a designated space.
“Without a physical space, fewer students know where to go for cultural events,” she said. “We’ve tried to hold smaller social gatherings to keep the community alive, but there’s less visibility overall.”
Staff on campus also felt the effects of the transition. Safe@Weber program administrator Jess Pleyel said the restructuring changed how their office operates, such as discontinuing intersectional feminine programming and events. Safe@Weber, once housed within the Women’s Center, now operates as a standalone program, she said.
Even with the changes, Safe@Weber continues to see growing demand. “Our numbers relating to violence prevention and advocacy continue to grow. Last year was our busiest year for advocacy in history,” Pleyel said. “Our advocacy services and violence prevention have been and always will be for any student, staff and faculty.”
For students like Angela Barradas, a senior majoring in graphic design, the shift has changed how campus discussions happen.
“I actually worked at the new Student Success Center,” Barradas said. “There was still some form of support, but it genuinely felt as if everyone had to walk on eggshells. … Certain conversations were not allowed and deep questioning was often discouraged. The environment was just not the same.”
While the Student Success Center provides general support, some students said they feel the personal connection and cultural representation are missing.
“The presence of DEI and identity centers is not simply about meeting a current need,” said one student, a former peer educator, who insisted on anonymity because they were concerned about retaliation from the university. “Students flourish when they are able to bring their full selves into an environment that affirms their identities.”
The university has made efforts to maintain engagement, hosting events like Diwali celebration and Hispanic Heritage Month. However, Rodriguez, from the Hispanic Area Council, said it’s not the same.
“We hope one day to have our center back, but that’s not realistic in the short term,” she said. “For now, we focus on connecting with students wherever we can.”
As Weber State continues to adapt to HB261, its long-term effects on campus culture remain uncertain. Some students appreciate the focus on broader academic resources, but for many, the loss of these identity-based centers has left a gap in community, belonging and representation.
“Support looks different for every student, but every student should know they can come to our staff and find that support when they need it,” Flores said. “We work hard to get ourselves out there and stay visible, because those connections build trust.”
Mia Salgado wrote this story as a journalism student at Weber State University. It is published as part of a new collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.
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NOTE TO MEDIA PARTNERS PUBLISHING WORK
We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text: This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Mia Salgado wrote this story as a journalism student at Weber State University. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
The green landscapes, stone bridges and monuments of Memory Grove Park just north of downtown Salt Lake City will soon make room for a three-story illuminated sphere. The art installation will combine light, projection and sound to create what artist Olafur Eliasson calls a symphony of nature.
Eliasson, an internationally known artist, will debut the immersive installation from March 26 to April 4 as part of the Wake the Great Salt Lake project. Each evening at 9 p.m., the experience will transform the park into a stage for a tribute to the Great Salt Lake.
The inflatable sphere serves as a projection screen for shifting visuals drawn from natural forms like salt crystals and geometric patterns found in nature. Surrounding the sphere is a layered soundscape built from recordings of animals native to the lake ecosystem, creating a 30-minute immersive experience that blends light, sound and environmental storytelling.
Project organizers say that the goal is to create a sense of shared responsibility. By bringing local communities together to learn about the lake’s future, the hope is to transform an environmental issue into a moment of collective reflection and action.
By placing art in public spaces, organizers hope to reach residents in ways that policy discussions or scientific reports often cannot.
“The Great Salt Lake is not only an environmental landmark, but a defining part of Utah’s identity and cultural landscape,” said Felicia Baca, executive director of the Salt Lake City Arts Council. “Public art has a unique ability to translate complex issues into experiences people can feel and remember.”
Eliasson’s installation centers on the sounds and rhythms of the lake’s ecosystem.
“We have made something I called a symphony played as if nature would play it for humans,” Eliasson said during a recent press briefing. “It is a rhythm or it's a sort of a sound and visual journey that is somehow aimed at human ears. There's a pulse to it.”
(Courtesy: Studio Olafur Elisson)
Eliasson said the project highlights how fragile and important the ecosystem is.
“When the little shrimp disappears, then a whole ecosystem of other species also disappears,” he said. “Sometimes even species that are not endangered disappear because what they eat becomes endangered.” The installation draws from recordings and representations of the lake’s animals and insects, including brine shrimp, crickets and birds.
Beyond its environmental message, Eliasson said, the art is designed as a community experience.
“It’s a public space. It belongs to the city, and therefore it belongs to everyone,” he said. “Experiencing something together outdoors is a privilege.”
Utah locals hope the installation will encourage residents to reflect on their relationship with the lake and the role communities play in protecting it.
For many people living along the Wasatch Front, the lake is both a defining landscape as well as an environmental challenge.
“To me it’s like this oasis that makes you feel a million miles away from the city,” said Katie Newburn, education and outreach director for Friends of Great Salt Lake. “It’s otherworldly, the birds, the expanse. It reminds me of the ocean.”
Newburn said public awareness about the lake’s condition has grown significantly in recent years, especially after the lake reached historic low water levels in 2022. Environmental groups and policymakers have since pushed for water conservation and restoration strategies.
Newburn said connecting people emotionally to the lake is essential.
“Art has the power to reach people in ways that science and policy sometimes can’t,” she said. “It helps people connect with the lake, appreciate it and ultimately participate in its restoration.”
Art projects like Wake the Great Salt Lake can help bring communities to environmental issues through public engagement by inviting residents to experience the issue in a more personal way, organizers say.
Newburn said she hopes visitors leave the installation not only more aware of the lake’s challenges but also inspired by the possibility of protecting it.
“I hope people leave with a sense of hope and inspiration about how much can still be saved,” she said.
Caitlyn Homolya, a student from the University of Utah, wrote this article through a collaboration with Amplify Utah and the Great Salt Lake Collaborative.
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NOTE TO MEDIA PARTNERS PUBLISHING WORK
We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text: This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Caitlyn Homolya wrote this story as a journalism student at the University of Utah. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
