Wrestling clowns, Faygo showers, burning cars and lots of buttholes: that’s what I prepared myself to see when I decided to go to my first Gathering of the Juggalos in 2023. I’d heard it was a party worth remembering. I was insanely excited. But as it got closer, I became apprehensive. My friends were concerned; I received lots of warnings. Mostly about drugs, violence and the likelihood of risky fireworks displays. But also about being visibly trans in such a potentially dangerous atmosphere.
The Gathering of the Juggalosis a music festival thrown every year by the clown-painted horrorcore rap duo Insane Clown Posse. Its reputation for debauchery has outgrown the music, and for nearly 25 years their fans — called “juggalos” — have traveled to the festival grounds to get drunk, get naked and get down.
When it’s not serving as ground zero for the juggalo scene, Thornville, Ohio is a sleepy, conservative area. It’s mostly farmland, dotted with hay bales and mellow, cud-chewing cows. I drove for nearly an hour trying to find liquor above 5% ABV. Nearly 75% of the county voted for Donald Trump in the 2020 election.
Beyond Thornville, the state of Ohio is notorious for pushing some of the strictest trans healthcare bans in the country. Because many juggalos are working class and ICP fans have an FBI status as a gang, there’s also a perception among non-initiates that juggalos are redneck, backwards and dangerous. Overall, this might not be a place you’d think trans and queer people would flock for community and kinship.
And yet, that’s exactly what happens.
The first person I met at the Gathering was a trans woman named Estelle [name changed for anonymity]. She immediately offered me a bump, a hug and her life story. I ran into trans and nonbinary people of all stripes, as well as the accompanying chasers. An old-head juggalo carting around a wagon filled with nitrous canisters asked for my pronouns. I shotgunned Four Lokos with a bunch of cis dudes as we screamed “FTM summer” in unison. One juggalo even came out to me as demisexual.
“I assumed it would be a cis sausage fest,” said Cody, a 31-year-old juggalo from New York who uses any pronouns. “But it was clear when I arrived how many other queers and trans folks were there. I am hopeful that with the years to come, there will be more of us at the Gathering. We have the capacity to take over.”
In America’s heartland, trans and queer juggalos of all backgrounds have found a space to cut loose, find friends and be themselves without judgment. Though Ohio has been at the center of the attack on trans people, those down to clown have found an unlikely refuge, at least for four wonderfully decadent days. Juggalos call each other “family” for a reason: the festival feels like a massive, wacky family reunion.
“At my first gathering I was walking around in a dress, and this trans lady came up to me and asked if I wanted to be friends,” said Lydia, a 28-year-old juggalette from Albuquerque who uses she/her pronouns. “The trans community is so small, and so is the juggalo community. It’s a subculture of a subculture. So it’s special when we find each other. I’ve been good friends with her since we met, and the only thing we had to go off of was that we’re both trans.”
It was like nowhere else I’d been in my life. Even though I live in a progressive city, I’d never been welcomed with such open arms before. I felt beautiful, sexy, adored and utterly accepted. On the seven hour bus ride home, I was awash in a glow that persisted for weeks. Many feel the same.
“I wish the Gathering could be every day, because that pure blanket of safety I felt is just so wonderful,” said Chase, who uses they/them and it/its pronouns. “I really wish more people outside of juggalo culture could feel that.”
I talked with trans and queer juggalos from all over the United States about their time at the Gathering this year, and they had similar things to say about the family they found. Get wild n’ wicked through their perspectives and portraits, taken by Brian Kaiser, below.
Cody and Helen
“I mean this in the nicest way: we're all fucking freaks. It’s great to share space with people who are on a similar wavelength, who don’t take themselves so seriously and aren’t rigid about their personal expression.” – Cody, 31, New York (any pronouns)
“When you're participating in normal things with quote unquote ‘normal people’, they always have weird questions. You feel like an ambassador for trans people when asked stuff like that. But the Gathering is a space where you can literally just be yourself and no one's gonna fucking bother you about it.” – Helen, 30, Brooklyn (any pronouns)
Zo
“Makeup can be geared towards being feminine, but I do feel like the juggalo clown makeup is a bit more androgynous. A lot of cis men don't generally wear makeup, so it was cool to hang out with guys who were like, ‘Let me do my makeup before we go out.’” – Zo, 33, Oakland (they/he pronouns)
Lydia
“On ICP’s first album [Carnival of Carnage], they came out swinging, saying, ‘Fuck your rebel flag.’ That's it's a huge part of ICP's culture. There’s no tolerance for intolerance. We love hating evil people and we love loving each other. It's in the lyrics too. Shaggy 2 Dope says, ‘We'll kick yo ass, but we love each other.’” – Lydia, 28, Albuquerque (she/her pronouns)
Chase
“We hate all the worst people on fucking Earth, and we love our homies. I think it draws so many queer people because you know that at any point there, you're not going to be attacked for literally just existing, or for being in people’s faces about it.” – Chase, 22 (they/them, it/its pronouns)
Philomena
“Some people are too caught up in the image of it as rowdy white trash shit, which, at the end of the day, just sounds like they just hate poor working class people. But that’s the kind of shit I enjoy, especially with trashy queers.” – Philomena, 34, Nashville (she/they pronouns)
V
“I legitimately feel like I was more accepted in the woods of Ohio than I am at San Francisco trans clubs. The Gathering was one of the best moments of my life. I felt like I could just let my freak flag fly as high as I wanted and be my insane self without judgment.” – V, 28, Oakland (she/her pronouns)
V, Jax and Zo
“Jax and Zo are my friends in the Bay, and I feel like the three of us are the people that made the most sense to come because we're down with clown culture. Jax particularly has been doing clown stuff for years. We're on that wavelength.” – V
Jax
“Maybe there is some violence [in the lyrics], but the message is that we are a family. We have to look out for each other. We have to protect each other. If someone falls down, you pick them up. If someone needs help, you help them. That is a big thing in the punk scene and metal scenes, but a lot of people have a worse view of juggalos than they have of punks or metal heads.” – Jax (he/him pronouns)
Jodie
“There's a lack of safe and comfortable places to be weird. I always considered myself to be a weird person, not even in a positive way. I would feel like I'm socially fucking strange and off putting. But feeling like an outcast and shit is a big part of the queer and trans experience.” – Jodie, D.C. (she/her pronouns)
Photography: Brian Kaiser
