Emily Articulated: Sandpoint Pride

By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist

The first thing I noticed was the security wall which, in all honesty, was a relief. Because, in North Idaho, at an event like Pride, safety doesn’t feel like a guarantee. I sat with that feeling and acknowledged my privilege in only experiencing it fleetingly, and even still, second-hand. Something as unthreatening as a group of people gathering to share in celebration — in pursuit of acceptance and joy — required contemplation of safety. As an ally, it was a brief moment in which I absorbed a fragment of the sentiment many people live with regularly, just for being themselves.

Emily Erickson. Courtesy photo.

The wraparound security fence was accompanied by Sandpoint Pride’s six-step safety plan and a list of community agreements, including everything from reporting suspicious behavior to refraining from engaging with protestors. These measures proved effective, as there were no incidents throughout the weekend-long event. But more than their effectiveness, these safety measures gave people permission to fully immerse themselves within the event — to be present in their celebration, making even the few protestors’ attempts at shaming attendees pale in comparison to the outpouring of support within the walls. 

The next thing I saw was the event’s flag, stirred to fullness by a breeze. The flag featured an eagle, its talons digging into an inclusivity badge. The eagle, its bird-of-prey nature on full display, had a banner clutched between its beak reading, “To the polls ye folks of pride.” And below it all were the words “Queering Democracy.” 

This flag and its symbolism felt significant: a reclamation of the American champion of freedom, repurposed from its often generic and exclusive use to a decree that only those who have felt their freedom threatened can authentically cry.

The flag was designed by former-Sandpoint resident and artist Nellie Lutzwolf, with the concept of “Queering Democracy” described in a statement by the Sandpoint Pride organization. 

It read, “We believe people who have been forced to live marginalized lives by a hostile political climate, culture and/or government are better suited to teach others the value and meaning of freedom, safety, and belonging.

“Democracy is not just something that happens on Election Day. It’s how we live in a pluralistic, multicultural society, powered by skills that we learn in order to facilitate communication, understanding, connection and freedom.”

The last thing I took in before melting into the celebration was the assembled crowd. Teens and 20-somethings lined the front of the large stage, giving way to a mix of families, middle-aged folks and seniors alike. What seemed like hundreds of people gathered in anticipation of the headline event — a Queen B Collective Drag Show — their energy and excitement unifying the otherwise diverse gathering.

Beyond the stage was a sea of booths, food trucks and vendors, stretching the full length between Matchwood Brewing and Evans Brothers Coffee.

On this fourth anniversary of Sandpoint Pride, Event Director Andrea Marcoccio described the sheer force of the community that collaborated in the event. This year, she said, Pride “ attracted more than 90 volunteers and had developed partnerships with everyone, from community members and local businesses to Sandpoint police.” 

To maintain the momentum of the event and create a year-round impact, the organization gave away 250 inclusivity flags and called on community members to fly them under the initiative “Operation Rainbow.”

“We ask everyone who takes one of these free flags to hang it in solidarity with the LGBT community throughout our town,” Marcoccio explained. “By doing so, we can demonstrate how bright, vibrant, caring and kind this community is, creating a safer, more visible and aware environment year-round.”

As the performances began, the energy, bravery and meaning of the event were on full display. With every high kick and powerful lyric, the performers declared themselves unapologetically, taking up the space they so richly deserve.

And in a scene that remains etched in my memory, the crescendo of music, dancing and cheers from the crowd culminated in a haze of love and community support. Above it all, one attendee hoisted a flag bearing words as determined and important as the person holding it: “Sandpoint, we are here to stay.”

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.