For Dixon, performing in drag for the first time in college felt like home.
"I fell in love with it. It brought back all the old theater kid stuff from high school, but in a way that's very specific to queer people," the drag king said after giving an all-ages performance at the Trans Lives Festival in Des Moines.
The arts festival, which is in its fifth year, was held at Des Moines’ First Unitarian Church the weekend before International Transgender Day of Visibility — celebrated Monday.
Last month, Iowa lawmakers were fast-tracking a bill that would have banned Dixon's performance. Iowa also became the first state in the country to remove gender identity protections from its Civil Rights Act. The change goes into effect July 1.
Doug Aupperle, organizer of the church's transgender action group, speculated that recent local and federal actions against trans rights contributed to the festival's record turnout. Attendance nearly doubled this year, with over 1,500 people passing through a brigade of security into the LGBTQ-welcoming church. Performers traveled from across the state to join authors, musicians and nonprofit organizations in a celebration that, for some, felt like a last stand.
“It feels a hell of a lot more like a protest than it has in the past," Dixon said. "It feels more rebellious to feel even a remote amount of joy as a trans person.”
For Dawn Parks, Iowa's shifting political landscape has been a catalyst for personal change. The author and elementary teacher decided to come out publicly the night before the legislation passed.
"Instead of being miserable about it, I decided to just kind of take control of what I could," she said.
Parks has been privately transitioning for years, and despite the political climate, she describes her experience as overwhelmingly positive. Her school district has been supportive, and she says starting hormone therapy has even helped her write with renewed energy and a clearer mind.
“I wish everybody that transitions could have my experience," Parks said. "I know I'm kind of the exception, but I'm going to enjoy it.”
For others, the festival felt like a farewell.
“It's kind of like 'the last hurrah,' it feels like," said Jo Allen, a photographer attending with their partner, Oliver Rowling. The couple have recently ramped up their photography sessions, asking for community support on social media as they save up cash to flee the state before summertime.
Allen says that even before this legislative session, Iowa had started to feel less like a place where they could thrive.
“It has already been incredibly hard to get employment as a Black, trans person in Iowa," they said. "I feel like even now, after things that have started to pass, and with the Trump administration, I've had to start to pull back certain parts of myself to secure jobs. I don't feel as comfortable now giving out my pronouns, even though that's something that I should be able to firmly stand upon and have people respect. I don't feel as comfortable putting my photo out there so that people see me before having an interview because I don't want them to pre-judge."
Rowling says they know many others in the same position, likening the legislation to a "ticking time bomb," but at least for the weekend, they felt the Trans Lives Festival fostered celebration and community resistance.
“Everyone here is from Iowa. They live here in Iowa. They know the stuff that's been happening in the last year, or the last two months," they said. "It's just a place where we can forget the politics for a little bit, and we can all just exist in a space, and that's just beautiful to see.”
