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“When you forget your history, you repeat it,” says a 94-year-old Japanese American in the University of Utah student-made documentary.
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During the Bear River Massacre in 1863, around 200 U.S. Army soldiers killed at least 350 Shoshone men, women and children. It was the largest massacre of Native Americans in U.S. history, with some estimates saying the death toll was closer to 490.
Now, the restoration of Wuda Ogwa, the site near Preston, Idaho, along the banks of the Bear River and where the Bear River Massacre happened, is underway by the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation.
“Cultural healing is the reason we started … to heal that land there,” said Brad Parry, vice chairman of the Northwestern Band of Shoshone and natural resources program manager. “At the time we camped there in 1863, it was free-flowing.”
His ancestors could catch trout in the Bear River and hunt deer, elk and all sorts of waterfowl nearby, Parry said.
“We want to start that place over as a happy place, as a place you want to visit for the right reasons,” he said. “Right now, it's a graveyard. It's a cemetery. It's a place where something extremely bad happened.”
In 2018, the tribe purchased over 500 acres around the massacre site and is in the process of acquiring more. To restore the site to how it was in 1863 and before, the tribe is using historic aerial photography and written accounts of the site conditions, Parry said.
The project includes stream restoration efforts, digging a new wetlands pond, removing invasive species and planting native plants, he said. The construction of stream restoration structures along the Battle Creek Tributary are expected to begin in May 2024.
In his project grant application, Parry said the restoration “will improve overall water quality in Battle Creek and in Bear River," according to Great Salt Lake Collaborative partner, KSL.com. He estimated the project will send about 13,000 additional acre-feet of water to Great Salt Lake every year.
The project is expected to be completed by the fall of 2026.
The tribe also plans to build the Boa Ogoi Cultural and Interpretive Center, which Parry said will feature interactive and educational experiences about Shoshone culture and history to commemorate the massacre.
The Great Salt Lake Collaborative spoke with Parry about the importance of the restoration project to the tribe, its relationship with the lake and Bear River, and his views on how local media covers these issues.
This conversation was edited for conciseness and clarity.
The Bear River Massacre site (as pictured on Jan. 29, 2024) is being restored by the Northwestern Band of Shoshone and collaborators to culturally heal and provide more water to the dying Great Salt Lake. (Photo: Brad Parry)
Concerning the overall importance of water to your tribe, history and culture, how do you see the restoration of Boa Ogoi contributing to both environmental and cultural healing?
“Cultural healing is the reason we started it … After the massacre, we were either buried on that land or left. And as agriculturalists came in, they brought in silt, dirt and smoothed that out, and basically just changed the landscape … Our ancestors knew it as an extremely happy place to go because of the warm dance, [and] a lot of food, a lot of sustenance. It just makes sense that if you're going to heal something, you start with the natural — you remove the invasive [plants] and plant natural things and let the water do what it wants … So, there's going to be an unintended consequence of water coming down to the Great Salt Lake.”
Can you please elaborate on the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation’s efforts in restoring this area and its importance?
“That's how we teach. It's hard to teach somebody how to grow medicine plants and harvest and use them inside of a building. [With the restoration], we can teach our kids, ‘This is how we do this … this is how you gather it, this is how you use it.’ … We can start to flip the narrative and change the landscape … We've got a lot of partners and a lot of people who donate time and work with us … The community has changed. And so that's what we want to do – rejuvenate the place, so it has that spirit … of welcoming. It's hard to start to feel welcome at a massacre site, you know?”
What’s the significance of the Bear River to the Northwestern Shoshone?
“It was a major life source for us. We camped along the banks basically from where the Bear River massacre site is to all the way down to the Great Salt Lake. You travel with water, and the [nearby] Bear Lake produces fish. There are wetlands that were all around it, willows, so we could fish and hunt birds. And then, with the amount of willows and cattails and other things around there, we could make camp anywhere … We could always use those things to make temporary homes, wickiups.”
What is your personal connection to the lake as well as its significance to your tribe?
“I'm from Syracuse, Utah, so the lake was always a landmark to me. We would travel the Bear River and we would camp at Promontory Point, right on the banks of the Great Salt Lake because Chief Segwich – my great, great, great grandfather – was in charge of the rabbit hunt for all bands of the Shoshone. We would get together for rabbit hunts, salmon run, buffalo hunts, deer hunts and eat … I've seen [the lake] fluctuate, but I've never seen it this low …I can speak for my ancestors [when I say] that if they saw this, they would be concerned because they would worry about the loss of wetlands, the loss of wildlife and waterfowl. The loss of being able to collect clean salt and doing those sorts of things. It's really important that we take all of those factors in when we talk about the Great Salt Lake. It's not the lake itself, it's what it produces.”
What have been the biggest challenges and successes the tribe has faced in reclaiming and restoring its ancestral lands?
“There really haven't been blockades. We've got several people we've received grants from. I think the hardest part is just finding those big grants that allow you to do the work. It's challenging because you have to get so many people on the same page when you're using federal money or state money or private donations … It took three years of planning to get to the point where [we could start construction] … Now we're ready to really put in the work … We’ve [also] had volunteer days to come out and plant trees with the community. It's been wonderful. We've been able to talk to people about why we're doing the restoration and how it helps [educate].”
How have you approached making sure your collaborators understand what’s being done and why it’s being done?
“To work with us, you just have to respect our beliefs. This has been 100% indigenously led, and we try to include people who are interested in that and who have a high respect. We're running our own project — that's the biggest thing, no one's doing this for us. We've hired everybody – we've done everything – and so this is truly a tribal project. That's been really important to us. In asking for help from people, we make sure that they're on the same page and that they want to do the same things that we do.”
Where do you place environmental issues at Great Salt Lake in your list of priorities?
“A lot of people want us to come out and lead the charge [on issues related to] the Great Salt Lake, and that's just not how it's done. The lake is important, it's important to everybody. And, so, [we’ve] chosen to work with the state and their leaders and water districts and just talk. We don't have any land around the Great Salt Lake. We have very few water rights that go to the Great Salt Lake. All we can do is suggest [things]. My biggest suggestion to the people in Utah is, if they support our project, we'll [be able to] send Idaho water to the Great Salt Lake… We believe in [improving things in a] natural way … We also know when to get out of the way … I don't know that our voice is any more important than the people — you know, the farmers that depend on the water and the snow it produces when the Great Salt Lake’s full. All of us have a good argument for wanting it there.”
What else do you think can be done to save the lake?
“Honestly, conserve water, pray for rain. That's really the only thing we can do … How do we figure out how to conserve water so the farmers are happy, so the city users are happy, the Indigenous people are happy and the leadership is happy? … Everybody knows the lake’s there, everybody knows it's dropping, and people are having protests. I mean, it’s really kind of time to shut up and put our money where our mouth is and just start building projects … [People] have to work together and come together as a community. We need to figure that out.”
How would you describe your interactions with journalists as the lake has garnered more attention in recent years?
“I've done several interviews. I've spoken at certain things, and it gets published online. I think our stance is out there. People keep calling us and saying, ‘Well, I want your perspective.’ … We've been talking about it for three years. Nothing's changed — we need more water to the Great Salt Lake. We're always interested in people who want to understand [culturally] why we're doing it … so we take time to explain that. And it's really just a simple concept — remove invasive [plants] and replant native and let the water, let Mother Earth heal itself, let it take over. That's culturally and spiritually what we believe – [let] the stuff all live in harmony. Not everybody thinks that way, and that's fine … People [have] to start working together and see what possibility could be there. It's a political thing, it's a community thing, and that’s sometimes hard to do.”
What do journalists often get wrong?
“A lot of times people will contact us and say, ‘Hey, we're about to give you a voice’ and that's super offensive. We have a voice — I can get on Gov. Cox's [or Great Salt Lake Commissioner Brian Steed’s] schedule in about 10 minutes if I see something … I have those contacts because of what I do and who I am with the tribe. What we want people to understand is that we support increasing the level of the lake. We don't have all the answers … People keep thinking that we need to lead the charge, and we don't. People don't understand how exploitative that can be … We're doing what we're doing, and at the end of the day, that is going to help the Great Salt Lake.”
What would you like to see journalists do differently?
“Unless we call you, don't call us. I mean, quite honestly, we'll reach out if we have something to say … We're not more special than anybody else. What we would care about is if people come out to take a look at what we're doing and then write the story we tell them instead of trying … to use us [as] the voice of the Great Salt Lake. We don't want to do that … It's always been hard between Native Americans and journalists. There's just not that relationship because we've been misquoted so many times. And that's why we take over our own media … people just get [things] wrong.”
Looking ahead, what are the priorities regarding land restoration, cultural preservation and environmental sustainability?
“We'd like to acquire more land along the Battle Creek corridor and around the Bear River massacre site and kind of update them the same way we did, culturally, to keep that preservation and to keep learning and teaching … Since we've never had a reservation, we want to obtain lands for a reservation and kind of see what we can do to upgrade [and help us] … with our cultural preservation … [As for] environmental stability, we're hoping that everything we do will continue to keep the environment better. We just want to keep doing more. The more we do, the longer we can, the longer the state's sustainability. The more we do upstream of the Great Salt Lake, [more and better water will] flow into the Great Salt Lake … Our sustainability is to get to the point where we've done all of this restoration – and have moved it along and monitored it and cultivated it – so, in the future, it just runs on its own.”
Vice Chairman of the Northwestern Shoshone Tribe Brad Parry and his sister, Angie, at the Bear River Massacre site on Jan. 29, 2024. (Photo: Clint Barnes)
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Andrew Christiansen, a senior at the University of Utah, wrote this story as part of a College of Humanities journalism course in partnership with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative and Amplify Utah. The collaborative is 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 our stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.
Olivia Juarez doesn’t want to leave Salt Lake City. And they don’t want you to leave either.
“All of my family's here,” said Juarez, a lifelong Utahn and one of the voices behind a new podcast focused on Great Salt Lake. “Everything I love is here …. and so, it would be incredibly heartbreaking and disrupting to my life to leave.”
The “Stay Salty: Lakefacing Stories” podcast launched on March 25 and explores what it means to keep living in the Great Salt Lake Basin as concerns mount around environmental and public health issues around the shrinking body of water.
Juarez, public land program director for GreenLatinos, said they and co-host Meisei Gonzalez wanted to amplify voices not always heard in storytelling about the lake, including conversations with youth activists, Indigenous leaders, people with disabilities, farmers, parents, brine shrimpers and people who are incarcerated.
“Conversations about the climate crisis and economic transition happen at a scientific level or a policy decision-making level, but not on a personal level,” Juarez said. “We started this podcast to focus on people who live here [and] to understand how their daily lives are being impacted by the Great Salt Lake.”
A project by Of Salt and Sand, a Utah-based storytelling collective, the podcast team includes Hosts Juarez and Gonzalez, Visual Artist Frances Ngo, Photographer and Visual Director Jeri Gravlin, Event Curator Ashley Finley, and Producers Maria Archibald, Amelia Diehl and Brooke Larsen.
Gonzalez said he and the team hope to raise questions about what these changes mean for the broadest possible cross-section of the valley’s residents.
“As with many environmental issues, many community members who are primarily people of color, Indigenous, queer, disabled and working class are facing the realities of climate change firsthand,” said Gonzalez, who grew up in Salt Lake’s west side communities and works as communications director for Healthy Environment Alliance of Utah, or HEAL Utah. “We believe there is a need for frontline community members' voices to be centered in this conversation.”
Just weeks after the launch of “Stay Salty,” Juarez and Gonzalez talked with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative about their hopes for the podcast, the future of the lake, and what they want to learn from the people who live in its namesake valley.
Rios Pacheco, cultural and history advisor for the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation, and Olivia Juarez meet at the Antelope Island State Park Visitor Center to talk about Shoshone connections to Great Salt Lake on March 11. (Photo Jeri Gravlin)
GSLC: Why did you choose "What It Means to Stay" as the theme of your first episode?
MG: This helped set the stage for the rest of the podcast, letting individuals know the complexity of what it means to stay in a place facing an environmental crisis.
OJ: Our entire project team came together to come up with a list of podcast topics. We decided which ones to include in season one … by choosing stories that felt relevant, highlighted perspectives and stories that have not been focused on by others and that were timely and relevant.
GSLC: The lake is also, in many ways, one of the podcast’s main characters. Do you stick around the studio to record?
OJ: [We’re] in the field at various locations such as Antelope Island, the Jordan River Nature Center and the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance (SUWA) podcast studio.
MG: And [on] the Great Salt Lake’s shores.
GSLC: This podcast grapples with what it means to stay in the Great Salt Lake Basin as we face an ecological and public health crisis. What have you learned so far?
MG: We have learned that financials and community are big driving factors in staying. Many individuals expressed that they do not have the financial resources to simply leave the state. Others expressed that their community, family and work are primarily here, making it very difficult for them to leave this state.
GSLC: How do you bring humor into a podcast about a pretty heavy topic?
OJ: By speaking in a light or humorous tone when it is appropriate. The title, “Stay Salty,” is a form of humor. For me, in the face of difficult questions, you can be optimistic, despair or fight back, and “staying salty” is a form of the latter. It's a reflection that it's OK to be salty, or in other words be angry or dissatisfied, with the crisis at Great Salt Lake, and use that energy to act.
MG: We believe that humor is needed and is something that we can all relate to one another. We wanted the interview questions to help guide the interviewee but relied heavily on stories of joy to bring humor and hope.
GSLC: How do you approach communities to be involved in the show?
MG: Our goal is to amplify the stories of individuals and community members who have historically been left out of the Great Salt Lake conversations … The team all have backgrounds in community organizing, which was key to ensuring that we were creating this podcast by the community for the community.
OJ: We [first] invite guests to join the show and have a pre-interview with them to give details about the project. We gift guests an honorarium and a photograph that will be used in the art exhibit at the [downtown Salt Lake City] library … The exhibit features portrait photography of podcast guests, with quotes from their interviews. We hope to bring this art exhibit to other Great Salt Lake Basin communities.
GSLC: Any standout episodes you’d like to give a shout out?
OJ: My favorite episode is episode two. It's the episode about love. Love for and at the Great Salt Lake. There are dating stories and engagement stories. It will be very fun to listen to it.
GSLC: What’s to come in future episodes?
MG: We will interview many different community members and highlight important stories. One episode that was very interesting to produce was about the Utah state prison, which is built on the shores of the Great Salt Lake.
OJ: My goal for this podcast and project is for everybody who lives in our community to know that their stories are valuable, to know that their connection to the Great Salt Lake and the climate, when they talk about it, and it’s going to make a difference.
GSLC: What’s your takeaway so far? Is it worth staying?
MG: This depends on everyone's own needs, but to many, Utah is home. This is where they grew up, created a community, and raised their families. It is also a state with many natural resources and outdoor spaces that many Utah residents cherish … I hope to see systemic action taken to help address not only the drying of the Great Salt Lake but many other environmental issues that we are facing, such as heat waves and air pollution.
Some of the ‘Stay Salty: Lakefacing Stories’ team, from left: Maria Archibald, Jeri Gravlin, Brooke Larsen, Meisei Gonzalez, Amelia Diehl and Olivia Juarez. (Photo courtesy Stay Salty)
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See the Exhibit
The “What it Means to Stay: Lakefacing Stories” exhibit at the downtown Salt Lake City public library (210 E. 400 South) opened April 13 and runs through June 1. The multimedia project explores “what it means to stay with Great Salt Lake through ecological collapse, climate crisis, and a public health disaster.” Free and open to the public.
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Kyungsoo Park, a student at the University of Utah, wrote this story with his instructor, Marcie Young Cancio, as part of a College of Humanities journalism course in partnership with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative and Amplify Utah. The collaborative is 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 our stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.
As the sun begins to fall behind the rugged mountains surrounding Great Salt Lake, clear water ripples around a 40-foot, dark blue canoe with yellow trim and big white letters that read “HUI PAOAKALANI.” Each canoe holds six people, all of whom have a specific role as they paddle through the cool waters.
For 13 years, members of the Hui Paoakalani Hawaiian Outrigger Club launched the canoes from the Great Salt Lake Marina every Saturday morning – a great workout for paddlers, but that was never the main purpose.
“The Hawaiian people don’t like to look at the canoes as being an exercise piece of equipment,” said club co-founder Darren Medeiros. “These canoes have spirits of their own, and we use the canoes to perpetuate our culture.”
Founded in 2007 and named with a nod to legendary surfer Duke Paoa Kahanamoku, the club became all but extinct after COVID-19 forced it to shutter its operations for two years. Co-founder Ben Au said lower water levels at the lake and the cost of maintaining the canoes made reestablishing the club seem impossible. The club stands alone as the only Hawaiian outrigger organization in Utah, and losing it means the loss of an important cultural touchpoint for Pasifika people across the Salt Lake valley, Au said.
"The canoe club is about … teaching people and kids how to paddle, how to steer, the purpose of the canoes, what it means to our culture,” he said. “The other thing is that it is a social event – we all get together."
Over the years, more than 60 people became club members or volunteers, coming from Logan to Provo, Au said. They would paddle from April to October, sometimes even into November, before the lake got too cold.
Rigging of Hui Paoakalani’s Hawaiian outrigger sailing canoe assisted by Mark Ellis, Hokulea captain and master navigator from Honolulu (center) alongside Ben Au, Kehau Ellis, and Tom Parker (L-R) at the Great Salt Lake Marina. (Photo courtesy of Hui Paoakalani Hawaiian Outrigger Canoe Club).
Au said paddlers would take the canoes nearly eight miles from the marina to Antelope Island.
“We would go once, maybe twice a summer, and it would usually take about an hour to an hour and a half,” he said.
The club, called simply “the Hui” by its members, offered more than canoes and a launching point to the water. It was also a cultural hub with hula classes, shaved ice, lau lau, music and dancing, Au said.
Whether on the islands or in landlocked Utah, Medeiros said, Hawaiians have found ways to bring their culture wherever they live.
"Hawaiian culture never leaves the Hawaiian people,” he said. “The club was a way to rally them and bring them together to connect with the culture.”
Mederios said this emphasis on connection and belonging makes the club a cultural institution, fostering a sense of identity and heritage among its members.
The decline of Great Salt Lake in recent years has made it more difficult for these canoes to get back into the water.
"The Great Salt Lake has been dropping,” Au said, “and it has dropped to such a level that it is hard to get out to a safe area to paddle because what used to be … underwater is now above water."
Little reefs, rocks and stalagmites are now visible above the surface, Au said, which makes canoeing more challenging and dangerous.
The challenges, Medeiros said, require a solid team of paddlers to navigate. When conditions are right and water levels are higher, however, he said there’s no better place for paddling in the state.
"The Great Salt Lake is perfect for outrigger canoe paddling because of the high altitude, winds and glass-like water," he said.
But Mederios said it wasn’t enough. When the club tried to restart after the height of the pandemic, recruiting people to come back and securing donations and funding was difficult.
“That’s when things started to slow down,” he said. “These canoes are a lot of upkeep, and it is not cheap to keep the canoes in the marina.”
Another co-founder, Butch Porter, said he’s surprised Utah’s Hawaiian community does not take advantage of the club. Like the canoes, Great Salt Lake has its own culture and does so much for our environment and community, he said, but more people need to be aware of it.
Steersman Butch Porter (back of boat) and Darren Medeiros (front) teach a group teenagers how to paddle a Hawaiian outrigger canoe at Great Salt Lake Marina. (Photo courtesy of Hui Paoakalani Hawaiian Outrigger Canoe Club).
Au, Medeiros and Porter all said they wish they had taken the opportunity to come up with a succession plan. Many of the club members and founders are in their 50s, 60s and 70s, Medeiros said, and teaching the younger generations how to take over may have helped save the club.
About 1.2% of Utah’s population is made up of Native Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders, according to 2023 Census data. Many of them are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which Au said places a similar importance on genealogy and understanding family history.
"It is important for everyone to know where they are from,” Au said. “Knowing your genealogy helps you figure out what you want in life.”
At its height, Medeiros said, club members would invite high school football teams from Salt Lake’s west side communities – which included many Pasifika players – to the marina. Already familiar with teamwork, Porter said the club took that connection to the water and introduced the players to parts of their culture they may not have experienced before.
"Many people of Hawaiian or Polynesian descent have lived in Utah their whole lives and can struggle to connect to their roots, and the canoe club offers that,” Au said.
Now that it’s gone, he said, so are opportunities to connect with other members of Utah’s Pasifika communities on the waters of the lake. He hopes efforts to revitalize the cultural tradition of paddling – reminiscent of taking the canoes between the Pacific’s islands – can one day return to Utah.
“The Great Salt Lake has its own culture and spirit,” Au said. “You can feel it when you are out on the water.”
Camille Lee, a student at the University of Utah, wrote this story as part of a College of Humanities journalism course in partnership with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative and Amplify Utah. The collaborative is 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 our stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.
This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune, to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through student journalism.
Enter the George S. Eccles Student Life Center after 5 p.m. at the University of Utah any day of the week, and the sounds of shoes squeaking, balls bouncing and nets swishing can be heard echoing out of the gym. Pickup basketball draws dozens of students to the courts after classes end for the night.
In these games, male students dominate the courts, with a female student or two some nights. Girls who played basketball in high school but aren’t on a college team, like Ella McDonald, said it can be hard to find opportunities to keep playing.
Recognizing this gap, McDonald took a historic step last fall by founding the first and only women's basketball club at any university in Utah. She made the decision, she said, after repeatedly finding herself with only one option: trying to join games filled with male students. She knew other women wanted to play — they just weren't gathering in numbers at the same time.
“There weren't any clubs. And then for intramurals, they didn't even have women's," McDonald said.
Team president Ella McDonald (left) and team secretary Georgia Hatton (Photo courtesy of Ella McDonald)
Her initiative created a middle ground between casual intramurals and the highly competitive NCAA team, opening doors for female students who love basketball but lacked organized playing opportunities beyond high school.
“I kind of did it by myself,” McDonald said about starting the new club from the ground up. “That was definitely a little daunting.”
The team's launch coincides with surging interest in women's basketball, creating a timely opportunity for female students seeking the camaraderie, competition and community that organized basketball provides.
Team point guard Sydney Europa, who helped get the club started, said she became frustrated with the constant barriers women face when attempting to play the sport they love.
“We have intramurals but it’s really only guys who play on the teams, and it’s very hard as a girl to get on,” she said. “I’ll … sit for like two hours and get in one game, and then lose, and probably be done for the night because nobody wants to let me in on their team.”\
Ella McDonald shoots the ball during a game against Colorado State University (Photo courtesy of Ella McDonald)
As the only collegiate women's club basketball team in Utah, finding competition presented a unique challenge. Instagram became their most successful channel for connecting with other clubs and planning games, McDonald said.
Without other in-state university clubs to compete against, the team joined women's basketball recreation leagues around Salt Lake County, playing against a different demographic than they had anticipated, said team vice president Eden Schulz.
“It was an older women's league but they were probably anywhere from 20s to 40s, age range,” she added. “It was just one league, and everyone played.”
Sydney Europa takes the ball up the court during a game against Colorado State University (Photo courtesy of Ella McDonald)
The team was able to find some success, hosting the Colorado State University women's club basketball team in the fall for a series of games. Building on that connection, they traveled to CSU in late April to compete in a tournament against other universities' club teams, Schulz said.
“A lot of us want to travel, just cause it’s fun,” she added. “You get to go to a new place, hang out with your teammates, stay in a house together, play games against other colleges instead of just leagues around Utah.”
However, travel requires money, and finances presented an obstacle for the pioneering club, said team secretary Georgia Hatton.
“With the club being brand new, it’s been harder to be able to fund everything that we’re doing,” she said. “The more that we can have financially, the more opportunity we have to… go play in different states.”
Travel became necessary to play other schools because no women's club teams exist at other universities in the state, said Europa.
(From left) Eden Schulz, Georgia Hatton and Ella McDonald run up the court during a game against Colorado State University (Photo courtesy of Ella McDonald)
"We're the only school in the state of Utah that has a club team, so if we wanted to play other schools we have to go out of state," she added.
They also needed money for uniforms and equipment, said McDonald. They raised funds through several channels, including GoFundMe, Snap Raise, Little Caesars, and Associated Students of the University of Utah, the U’s student government organization.
“We have ways of getting money, they’re just really hard,” Schulz said.
McDonald said ASUU gave the team $160, for example, which isn’t enough to fund travel or gear.
Despite the challenges, the club grew from the first semester to the second — starting with about seven girls in the fall, but attracting so many people in spring tryouts that they had to make cuts, Europa said. The demand led to girls willing to only attend practices without traveling or playing in games.
Georgia Hatton runs up the court during a game against Colorado State University (Photo courtesy of Ella McDonald)
“We want to give girls the opportunity to just be competitive and still feel like they have a place to play basketball,” Hatton said. “Creating a space where girls can come and play… on the same level is something that’s important.”
The club team has filled that gap in its first year at Utah. Female students looking for a place to play basketball with their peers have the chance. The founders, McDonald said, remain hopeful about the club’s future.
“My plan is to leave it in somebody's hands and to keep it going, pass everything on,” McDonald said. “Everything's set in place to keep going.”
Natalie Newton wrote this story as a journalism student at the University of Utah for a capstone course focused on women’s sports. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.
