If there were ever a moment for Utah’s political leaders to listen to Taylor Swift, it’s now. Specifically: “I’ll look directly in the sun but never in the mirror. It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” Because the way some of them are talking about Salt Lake City’s new municipal flags, you’d think we were launching a separatist movement rather than, you know, celebrating our community with fabric and color.
Let’s rewind. Earlier this year, the Utah Legislature passed HB77, banning most flags from government buildings under the guise of “neutrality.” A move so sterile and sterile-sounding, you’d think Utah’s greatest threat wasn’t crumbling infrastructure or air quality but the terrifying presence of a pride flag. The bill, we were told, was about “unity,” “neutrality” and “welcoming all.” (Translation: Flags that make them uncomfortable must go.)
Enter Mayor Erin Mendenhall, who — bless her municipal heart — responded not with outrage, but with a velvet-gloved middle finger in the form of three new city flags. Yes, three. Because if you’re going to push symbolism into a corner, don’t be surprised when it bursts out in full technicolor.
And here’s the kicker: Mendenhall used the exact words of the flag-ban’s original proponents against them. No names were named (classy), but the irony was layered thick. When Sen. Dan McCay once claimed that “people don’t rally behind the flag. They rally behind the ideals and principles the flag represents,” I doubt he imagined that quote would be used to usher in a new era of city symbolism. Yet here we are.
Cue Sen. Stuart Adams, clutching his pearls in The Salt Lake Tribune: “It’s disappointing that Salt Lake City is diverting time and resources away from real pressing community needs.”
Adams seems to believe that we can’t design flags and tackle housing needs. The same tired “there are more important things” argument gets wheeled out every time marginalized communities are acknowledged in public space.
This idea that symbolic representation is somehow separate from “real issues” is laughable. Try telling a refugee family, a queer teenager or an Indigenous resident that symbols don’t matter.
Go ahead. I’ll wait.
“Government buildings should display neutral flags to serve everyone, not just the majority,” Adams added, without a trace of irony. Ironic, given that this entire law was created to ban the very symbols that represent those outside the majority. Unity, but only on their terms. Visibility, but only if you’re already in power. You see the issue.
There’s something deeply unserious about lawmakers trying to micromanage the semiotics of local flagpoles while simultaneously wringing their hands about “fleeing businesses.” (Spoiler: businesses aren’t leaving because someone flew a flag; they’re leaving because of housing costs, workforce issues, and, yes, the regressive political climate.)
Here’s the truth they don’t want to admit: This isn’t about flags. It never was. It’s about control. It’s about legislating discomfort into silence. It’s about fear dressed up as “neutrality.” And it’s exactly why Mendenhall’s and the Salt Lake City Council’s response matters — not just because it’s clever, but because it’s defiant in the best possible way. It says: “You can try to erase us, but we’ll still show up, brighter and bolder than before.”
Three new flags. One clear message.
It’s not performative. It’s prophetic.
(Haley Nord) Cat Palmer is a local photographer and art activist with her studio at The Bogue Foundry.
Cat Palmer is a local photographer and art activist with her studio at The Bogue Foundry. She is the Programming Director for The Utah Queer Film Festival and the mother to two teens
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