Under the Spring sun at Layton Commons Park, the circus ring will be set, not for spectacle alone but for something deeper: visibility, belonging, and a community that steps boldly into the spotlight.

On May 2, Davis County Pride marks its fifth anniversary with a theme that feels both celebratory and defiant: “This Is Me.” With more than 130 booths, a dozen food trucks, and a full afternoon of performances and activities, organizers say this year’s festival is their most ambitious yet, while still holding tight to the intimate, community-driven spirit that has defined it from the beginning.

“We are looking to bring the biggest and best Pride celebration Davis County has ever seen,” said Jake Boyle, board president and executive director of Davis County Pride. “The ‘stage’ we’ve built over the last five years is big enough for everyone, and we want to share our spotlight with all.”

From protest to Pride

That stage didn’t exist five years ago. The festival began as a response to legislation banning Pride flags in Utah schools — a moment Boyle now describes with a mix of irony and gratitude.

“In hindsight, that catalyst is the best gift lawmakers gave the queer community of Davis County,” he said.

What started as a small, almost DIY gathering with about 30 booths and a handful of food trucks has grown into one of Utah’s most beloved regional Pride events. Yet Boyle is quick to point out that growth hasn’t meant losing its identity.

“I often refer to it as the biggest little Pride festival in Utah,” he said. “Ogden and Salt Lake City do really great big-scale festivals. Our niche is that small festival feel. It still feels like home.”

That sense of home is especially significant in a suburban county where LGBTQ+ visibility can still be subject to challenges.

“Some of the most hurtful bills introduced each legislative session originate from those claiming to represent Davis County,” Boyle said. “Our festival is an important reminder that we are here, we will take up space, and we are filled with Pride.”

A circus with purpose

This year’s circus theme adds a layer of whimsy, but it also acts as a metaphor: everyone deserves a place in the ring.

For Colleen Mewing, board secretary and the festival’s entertainment chair, that idea comes to life through new additions like busker-style performance rings and aerial acts from Cirque du Kairos, a Utah-based circus arts group.

“We have two busker performance rings that are separate from our main stage, which is new,” Mewing said. “And Cirque du Kairos will be doing aerial arts, acrobatics, and unique artistic movements.”

The effect is less about spectacle for its own sake and more about creating moments of discovery — small circles of joy scattered throughout the park.

“We’re a one-day event, so we mix things up with shorter segments and give people time to explore,” she said.

In a nod to both history and homegrown impact, this year’s festival map doubles as a tribute, with walkways named after LGBTQ+ pioneers and local changemakers. Attendees will stroll along “streets” such as Harvey Milk Blvd and Marsha P. Johnson Parkway, while also encountering names that reflect Utah’s own legacy, such as Michael Aaron Ave, Connell O’Donovan Drive, Dakota Wurth Way, Nikki Boyer Blvd, and Charles Lynn Frost Lane. Community organizations are also honored, turning the festival space itself into a living reminder of the people and movements shaping equality past and present.

Adding to the immersive layout, the Utah Pride Center will host the “Center Ring” alongside the Main Stage, while the Matrons of Mayhem bring their signature flair to “The Big Top,” featuring lively rounds of bingo and entertainment.

The lineup leans heavily on local talent, including a pop-up group of Davis County singers of the Salt Lake Men’s Choir, Spencer Sanders, the Lavender Menaces Brass Collective, and headliner Liam Lars. It’s a deliberate choice shaped as much by budget realities as by philosophy. Ogden Pride President Sean Childers-Gray will be the ringmaster.

“We don’t have a large budget, so we focus on talented local artists in our community,” Mewing said.

That budget, around $13,000, requires creativity at every turn. Boyle estimates it costs over $3,000 just to secure the venue and insurance.

“We have ideas that could easily take us up to a $100,000 festival,” he said. “But what we’ve managed to do with so little, I think first-time attendees will be blown away.”

Creativity over corporate

Unlike many larger Pride events, Davis County Pride relies on a donation-based model rather than major corporate sponsorships. Booth fees are intentionally kept low, and admission is free.

“That model may limit us,” Boyle said, “but it forces us to be creative, and that’s part of the charm.”

It also shifts the focus toward community support. Attendees are encouraged to spend money directly with vendors, tip performers, and invest in the local ecosystem that sustains the festival.

A key part of that ecosystem is Project Rainbow, which is matching donations dollar-for-dollar this year. The partnership has also inspired one of the festival’s most anticipated visual moments: the “Project Rainbow Parade of Flags,” where youth will carry Pride flags representing a range of identities onto the stage.

“The flags will stay up all day as a reminder that everyone is welcome, seen, and respected,” Boyle said.

Pride, then and now

For Mewing, who grew up in Davis County, the festival represents something once inconceivable.

“I graduated from Clearfield High School in the early 1980s,” she said. “Back then, we didn’t have GSAs or dare to come out. Being visible in this community now, being married to the woman I love, and celebrating our fifth Pride — it’s more than my 17-year-old self could ever imagine.”

That generational shift is central to the festival’s mission, particularly for LGBTQ+ youth.

“Davis County Pride was formed for the youth,” Boyle said. “This is your festival. Step into the spotlight and boldly proclaim, ‘This is me.’”

More than a day

While the festival itself runs from noon to 6 p.m., organizers emphasize that its impact carries far beyond a single afternoon. Davis County Pride now hosts year-round programming from coffee meetups to youth art nights to holiday events, creating spaces for connection in between the larger celebrations.

“The festival makes a statement,” Boyle said. “But it also sustains us all year long.”

Still, on May 2, the focus returns to the park, the performances, and the people filling every corner of the grounds, whether they’re watching aerialists overhead, joining the “Love Train” march, or simply sitting on a blanket, taking it all in.

Mewing hopes attendees leave with something lasting.

“I want people to walk away feeling accepted, loved, and excited to come back next year,” she said.

Boyle puts it more simply: “Get there right at noon. Stay the whole time. Bring a lawn chair. By the end of the day, I think people are going to feel overjoyed and wish it was longer than six hours.”

In a place where visibility can still feel like a radical act, even a modest circus can become something powerful: a ring of community, a stage for truth, and a reminder that everyone belongs in the spotlight.

See the full schedule of events here.

More information at DavisCountyPride.org