On a list of cities expected to host a massive Pride celebration, Fayetteville, Arkansas, may not crack the top 10, or even the top 20. But for the past 22 years, Northwest Arkansas Pride has been building in numbers and momentum. Sponsored by the Tyson Family Foundation, the three-day event contains all of the ingredients that make Pride special. Beyond the parties, drag brunches, and performances, Northwest Arkansas Pride also provides urgency, solidarity, and community that is essential for safety and acceptance of LGBTQ people and allies in unexpected places.

LGBTQ Arkansans showed up and showed out across miles throughout downtown Fayetteville, with rainbow flags in hand and carrying a clear message: invisibility is not an option.

“They want to make us scared, so we go back into hiding,” Mason Weatherford, 21, said, on the front lawn of Central United Methodist Church, which served as a central meeting point for The Trans March and Pride Parade.

A Fort Smith, AR, native, Weatherford began transitioning at 18 and moved to Fayetteville last year. While taking reprieve from the scorching temperature underneath a tent, a shirtless Weatherford, with bandages covering both sides of his chest, laid bare visible and invisible scars.

“Existence is its own protest,” he said. “I was 17, having to figure out homelessness after I had just figured out that I might be trans. And now, seeing how many of us there are, honestly, it’s really inspiring.” LGBTQ youth are four times more likely to experience housing insecurity than non-LGBTQ youth, which can result from family rejection, financial struggles, and a lack of dedicated services to help them thrive.

“It can feel a little bit invisible sometimes to be trans, especially in a state like Arkansas,” Kate Williams said, who was accompanied to The Trans March by her close friend Amy Shea, also a trans woman.

This year’s March marked the first time Shea attended as an out trans woman.

“Last time I was here, I wasn’t even out yet,” Shea said. “This is my first Trans March being out as trans, and I’m just really happy to be here. It feels like I’m surrounded by friends.”

“To see the overwhelming amount of people here that are also trans, it really does warm my heart,” Williams said. “There are people, regardless of whether they’re queer or not, who really do care about us. And I just continue to remind myself of that.”

Williams tells GLAAD that being part of the local LGBTQ community and having the courage to be her authentic self were matters of life or death.

“I was at a point where I was actively suicidal, I was self-harming, it was not a good time for me before transitioning, and it was really life-saving to have access to hormone replacement therapy (HRT),” she said.

But even more so for Williams and Shea, navigating their trans journeys together has been a source of trans joy.

“I’m so happy to have somebody so close in my life who is trans and who’s helping me through all the ups and downs of it,” Shea said. “It’s like I have insider knowledge with me at all times.”

“I do think that trans joy is extremely important and to not overwhelm ourselves with negative influences,” Williams said.

It’s advice from her friend that Shea has embraced in a way that most people would find incredibly challenging.

“I am not online at all. I have a dumb phone,” Shea said. “I don’t have a computer. I try to live my best life. I think the biggest form of protest that I have is to live as happily as I can.”

Moving The Needle

Austin Killips, a celebrated long-distance cyclist, executive director of All Bikes Welcome, and an out trans woman, is no stranger to the vitriol currently aimed at the trans community. A new resident of Fayetteville, Killips, was on the receiving end of President Trump’s attacks in 2025 after winning the 800-mile Arizona Trail Race. Pres. Trump called Killips“very bad for the country” during his State of the Union address.

“Which is an immense market prize,” Killips said from the Tyson Mainstage, referring to the president’s remarks as a badge of honor.

“We’re the living embodiment of a changing tide. The push to remove us from public life through a combination of legal incursions, medical restrictions, and stochastic terror campaigns is the acknowledgment that our presence and the light we shine into the world collectively and as individuals is moving the needle,” Killips said.

Fayetteville native Cici Sanchez agrees.

“Being a trans woman of color, it’s been very accepting for me. Now, that’s just for me,” Sanchez said. “I get that my other trans sisters and brothers may not have it as easy. Just keep on. I am discovering myself, and I love it.”

Killips says there are examples of a positive shift in Fayetteville and nationwide.

“There are more trans flags in your line of sight when you’re out and about, more trans people in your orbit, and more people here marching for trans rights than there were a decade ago,” she said.

John David Storment, a Fayetteville native who moved back home after living in New York City for a decade, says he has returned to a more LGBTQ-inclusive place that is a welcoming home for him and his husband.

“My husband and I live here together. We go to church, and everyone’s super supportive,” Storment said. “My family is really amazing. If I could go back in time and tell my 15-year-old self that this is what my life would look like now, I would probably be in shock and awe.”

Storment tells GLAAD that although Fayetteville was not “the most supportive environment” during his formative years, the progress the city has made over time, including hosting such a large Pride event, makes him proud.

“I know that a lot of towns of this size don’t have something like this. It’s just really impressive and amazing, and it makes me proud to be from here,” he said.