Kiana Crosby grew up in Hot Springs, a quiet town in Madison County that’s tucked along the French Broad River. Each year, the town hosts music festivals and vacationers seeking out warm mineral springs, along with thousands of hikers traversing the Appalachian Trail.
But it wasn’t until this year that Crosby got to celebrate Pride in their hometown.
The Laurel Country Pride Festival – Madison County’s first ever – brought out around 100 people for its inaugural festival in Hot Springs and Marshall earlier this month. Festivities included brunch, live music, quilt making and a “Queer Prom”-themed after party.
“The whole thing is better than my wildest dreams. I've cried like eight times today,” Crosby said. “For a town of 538 people, this is a lot of people that are here right now.”
Crosby, one of the event organizers, said they’ve wanted to see a Pride event in Madison County for a long time. But it wasn’t until the destruction – and subsequent rebuilding – of Hot Springs after Hurricane Helene that they felt inspired enough to jump into action.
Seeing their neighbors band together and build something inspired them to do the same.
“It’s the Appalachian way. If you want something to exist, you have to build it yourself,” Crosby said. “And with all the resourcefulness and communities coming together after Helene, it felt like it was possible to do it right now in a way that it didn't feel possible before.”
Across Western North Carolina, more small-town pride events have cropped up over the last few years, including in Lake Lure, Sylva, Murphy and Waynesville. These events are important to Crosby because they serve as a “tangible marker” of the LGBTQ+ community in Western North Carolina.
“Queer people have always been here in Madison County and if you look, you can find little markers,” they said. “But there isn't anything loud.”
Adam Polaski, an organizer with Campaign for Southern Equality, said these small-town events are especially impactful at a time when support for legislation that limits the rights and visibility of certain gender and sexual identities is on the rise.
In North Carolina, a recently implemented state law limits conversations and learning materials around LGBTQ+ topics in public schools for K-4 students. It also requires schools to notify a parent if their child changes their name or pronouns. Critics of the law say these policies marginalize students who are members of the LGBTQ+ community.
Other legislation, including one that would prevent state prisoners from seeking taxpayer-funded gender-affirming health care, has been passed in the state legislature. Gov. Josh Stein vetoed House Bill 805, calling the slate of Republican-led anti-transgender legislation “mean-spirited.”
In Sylva last year, the town council denied a permit that would’ve allowed a Pride march downtown (though the community did have a Pride festival later that year). And in Yancey County, there’s been a fight for the last two years over the presence of LGBTQ+ materials at the local library.
“I think it's definitely easy to feel targeted and isolated and alone, especially right now when so much of the news about what it means to be a queer person in 2025 means feeling attacked or erased or having a policy pushed against you,” Polaski said.
Safety concerns were top of mind for Burgin Mackey, an organizer of the Hot Springs Pride event. She says she spent a lot of time worrying about safety due to some online harassment she’d received.
She trained volunteers in de-escalation techniques and staged curtains around the outside of the venue, Big Pillow Brewing, in case any protestors or agitators made an appearance (they didn’t).
On the other side of the mountains, in Lake Lure, Polaski, who organized the town’s inaugural Pride celebration, said he faced similar concerns. He hired security guards for the event.
“We had some nasty comments on social media. We had someone rip off the pride poster in the bathroom at the restaurant that was advertising the event,” he said.
Online, some people started calling the venue, named Grey Hawk Bar, a different nickname.
“Someone called us gay hawk. And we said, ’You know what? Actually, that is not a bad way to promote this event,’” Polaski laughed.
“And so we wound up doing a fake ‘gay hawk’ logo. And we did a ‘they’ hawk, and we did a ‘trans’ hawk, and we did a ‘bi’ hawk. And we said, honestly, gay hawk is nice. Everyone is welcome here.”
In the end, none of that online criticism made it out of the comments section at either event. Scout McCormick attended the Lake Lure festival and described it as a beautiful day for the whole community.
“Everybody was having a great time. There was awesome music. The cake was rainbow,” he said. “There was just an overall sense of family and welcome and safe.”
While launching new Pride events isn’t always easy, Mackey said all of the planning and difficult conversations are worth it.
“Growing up, I would have died to know that something like this was available. Even if I wasn't allowed to go to it, it just would have meant so much knowing that there are other people like me,” she said.
“Even if you can't come and attend, even if you can't participate, you still know that it's down the road from you. You know that your neighbor or someone you know is out here living their lives authentically and joyously.”
