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Banished! Queer Community Reclaims Proposed Antelope Island Exile
Community
Stereotypical perceptions of Utah often paint a certain picture of its residents: blonde, Ikon pass holder, loves God, wears a Cotopaxi backpack and maybe has had some plastic surgery. The reality is Salt Lake is one of the queerest metropolitan areas in the country, and a study from UCLA’s Williams Institute reports approximately 6% of Utah’s population identify as LGBT, up from the national average of 5.5%. But it wouldn’t be Utah if there wasn’t a different, darker version of history where the state’s thriving queer community might not exist.
When Inside the Hive podcast host and Utah queer community champion Kyle Treasure decided to do a pride-themed episode last year, he wasn’t expecting to learn that at the height of the AIDS crisis in 1985, Utah State Senator Jack Bangerter (R-Bountiful) proposed that everyone who had contracted the disease—which disproportionately impacted the gay community at the time—should paint themselves red and quarantine on Antelope Island. “At one point while interviewing Dr. Kristen Ries, who was caring for AIDS patients during the crisis, she mentioned off-handedly that this had happened,” Treasure says. “After learning about it, I noticed that people kept bringing it up.”
Kyle, a self-proclaimed “ideas” person, knew the queer community would jump on the opportunity to commemorate this wacky piece of history in a “tongue-in-cheek type of way.” As he continued to build awareness, he found an event partner in his friend, Nick Carpenter. Just a few brainstorming sessions set the foundation for what became the inaugural Banished! Antelope Island Pride Ride.
“When Kyle told me this story, it was around the same time he’d just bought a new bike, and I was also getting more and more into cycling,” says Carpenter. “The idea for the ride developed pretty organically from there—it’s part of our queer lore, to use this legislation as our sense of place.”
“The idea for the ride developed pretty organically from there—it’s part of our queer lore, to use this legislation as our sense of place.”
![Cyclists at Banished! pose together.](https://www.slugmag.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/DSC_0561-400x267.webp)
On Saturday, August 3, during the Ogden Pride Festival, I joined 18 cyclists dressed in red just outside Antelope Island in the Davis County Lot for the first-ever Banished! ride. Together, in varying tire sizes, we rode the perfect seven miles from the start of the causeway to the Antelope Island Marina, the same route many queer people, painted in red, would have taken had this proposal of exile gained any traction.
At the marina, Treasure and Carpenter set up an aid station—with resources graciously provided by former Utah state legislator Becky Edwards—and played dance music confidently embracing ostracism. Of course, Lady Gaga was on the playlist.
From the marina, riders could choose their own adventure for a return route, whether heading directly back across the causeway, carrying on around the rolling bluffs for a few extra miles or continuing even deeper onto the island. Many of us carried on toward the bluffs, taking in the briny air as we rode further into the Great Salt Lake, enjoying the winding roads and rolling hills and spotting dozens of bison within just a few miles of cycling.
As I trudged up one of the final climbs before getting back onto the causeway, the rest of the group waited for me patiently with smiles on their faces. Smiling was certainly contagious that morning. Mildly embarrassed, I apologized to Carpenter for holding up the group. “It’s a ride, not a race,” Carpenter assured me. “We are very intentional about that wording.”
When we caught up later, I told Carpenter I was grateful for his continued encouragement. “It was important to me that people feel comfortable coming even if they’re not seasoned cyclists,” said Carpenter, noting the ride is designed for approachability and accessibility. One of the riders, who grew up in Davis County, mentioned to Carpenter that Salt Lake City often felt like the only place to be open and out—but that “this appealed to him, as a queer person from the suburbs, to have something in their backyard.”
“It was important to me that people feel comfortable coming even if they’re not seasoned cyclists.”
![Cyclists ride side by side.](https://www.slugmag.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/DSC_0718-400x267.webp)
While Treasure and Carpenter planned for a more intimate group this year, calling it their “proof of concept,” they’re anticipating a lot of growth for 2025, the 40th anniversary of the banishment proposal. “Next year, the ride will be open to as many people as possible—anyone and everyone,” says Treasure. “Our goal is to get the word out. Even if people don’t attend, we want household knowledge that this legislature was proposed in 1985. The point of the ride isn’t even necessarily to visit Antelope Island, but to educate and bring visibility to the issue. That’s what success will look like for us.”
Treasure and Carpenter are eager to bring more local businesses into the mix for the 2025 ride, turning this year’s aid station into an all-out party featuring beloved LGBT-owned restaurants, bookshops, musicians, performers and more. Naturally, given the state of the Great Salt Lake, the organizers are also focused on the intersectionality of queer environmentalism: “We don’t want to be riding out there in toxic dust storms,” says Carpenter.
Visit the Banished! website banishedslc.weebly.com and Instagram page @banished_slc to learn more about the colony that almost was and to stay up to date on next year’s ride.
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