Father Al Risdorfer does not hesitate to remind me that Pride has always been an act of communal protest against the reality of anti-LGBTQ+ violence and erasure.
“The origins of Pride was a protest march. You ever been chased down the street by guys with baseball bats wanting to bash your brains in? No? I have… You ever been in a bar that got raided by cops where you’re all shaken down for money? I have,” Risdorfer, pastor of Our Lady UnDoer of Knots Inclusive Catholic Community, says across a table of coffee and omelettes.
”So, I was in the marches in ’87 and ’93 to Washington. I was at the Pride Parade march up in New York when we confronted the Westboro Baptist Church holding signs that say ‘God hates fags,’” he recalls.
These lived experiences are at the core of Risdorfer and his community’s growing concerns with the changes that this year’s Baltimore Pride is bringing to the traditional parade and festival. One of the oldest Pride celebrations in the country, Baltimore Pride has historically been organized by the Pride Center of Maryland, taking place in the Mount Vernon neighborhood before shifting to Station North Arts District in 2017.
Last year, citing overcrowding and public safety concerns, the city made the first change to the Pride Festival location in nearly a decade, moving it from Station North to Wyman Park Dell. This decision then necessitated the reversal of the Pride Parade route — which in recent years had run north to south down Charles Street — to march north ending at Wyman Park Dell.
Although the shift moved the parade and festival away from a hub of LGBTQ-owned businesses such as the Baltimore Eagle, returning participants and community members kept an open mind, Risdorfer recalls.
“I think everybody’s approach was ‘Let’s see if it works,’” Risdorfer says. “Because of the legacy of success none of us questioned the Pride Center [of Maryland] or the city ‘cause it worked. Last year didn’t work as well, but it wasn’t totally bad.”
For the past five years, Risdorfer and his parish have organized their own booth at the festival and marched in the parade as part of the interfaith coalition Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride. The organization of 50-plus local houses of worship marches annually as a group of more than 200 people, one of the parade’s largest contingents.
Formerly, Risdorfer found their experience at Baltimore Pride to be, as he put it, “very positive,” but last year’s relocation of the festival posed particular challenges to his parish’s participation. Wyman Park Dell, bordered by N. Charles Street and the Baltimore Museum of Art, is surrounded by tree cover and down steep slopes that require staircases for visitor access. The scarcity of parking on streets closest to the Dell required Risdorfer and other booth vendors to carry tents and supplies across several blocks in 80-degree weather. The layout of the park seemed to Risdorfer to spread vendors further apart than before and hinder the visibility of some organizations’ booths. “You couldn’t get that sort of cohesion,” Risdorfer says. “The sense of community is gone.”
Having lived through the intense origins of Pride, Risdorfer was alarmed by the community’s distance from the public view and from the familiarity of the queer spaces located around previous routes for the parade and festival.
Having lived through the intense origins of Pride, Risdorfer was alarmed by the community’s distance from the public view and from the familiarity of the queer spaces located around previous routes for the parade and festival.
As the city moves the festival again, now from Wyman Park Dell to the even more distant and cut-off Druid Hill Park, the tensions around Pride have been exacerbated for Risdorfer and his community. Risdorfer and the leadership of Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride say they have seen a lack of transparency from the city and Pride Center of Maryland as plans developed, impacting their participation in this year’s events.
More than that, they are concerned that the city is seeking to gain authority over Baltimore Pride, which has always been autonomous and independent, under the control of the Pride Center and Baltimore’s LGBTQ+ community since its inception. They’re also taken aback by how much of this has happened behind closed doors.
In March, David Lascu, co-chair of Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride, reached out to meet with Pride Center staff to discuss the inclusion of their annual Pride Interfaith Service in the official slate of activities for Baltimore Pride.
That’s when the Pride Center told him that the city was forcing them to move the festival from Wyman Park Dell to Druid Hill Park, a move that would also affect the parade route, which traditionally ended at the festival’s location. Lascu responded that his community in Charles Village would have no interest in plans to move the parade away from their neighborhood, so he offered to help Pride Center representatives advocate against the relocation, an offer he says the Pride Center accepted.
Lascu was also informed of a new memorandum of understanding between the city and Pride Center, outlining the working relationship between the two parties for the purposes of the Baltimore Pride Parade and Festival.
This was the first time the city required a Memorandum of Understanding from the Pride Center, so Lascu immediately requested a copy of the agreement from Pride Center leadership and began to have, as he says, “difficulty getting responses back.”
In the following weeks, Lascu organized the coalition of Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride to send a letter of concern to City Council regarding the festival’s location change and potential negative impacts on Baltimore’s LGBTQ+ history, businesses, and “alternative” Pride events. He submitted requests to the Mayor’s Office under the Maryland Public Information Act for documents related to the movement of the festival to Druid Hill Park — including the memorandum of understanding between Pride Center of Maryland and the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs.
In response to his MPIA request, Lascu received a copy of the MOU as well as related correspondences between the Pride Center and Melanie Bryant, director of the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs, from November 2025 through April 2026.
When he delved into the MOU, Lascu says it “raised major concerns” because the agreement assigns the city the authority to select the date and location of the Pride festival.
“The City will consult with the Pride Center regarding the selection of locations and key logistical planning considerations for the Baltimore Pride Parade and Block Festival. However, the City has the ultimate authority to select the date, location, and logistical planning considerations related for the Baltimore Pride Festival and Block Party,” the memorandum states.
Even more confusing for Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride, the Pride Center initially seemed to share their concerns about the MOU before leadership starkly reversed their position and began to distance themselves from the community organization.
Cleo Manago, the center’s CEO, was presented a draft of the MOU in late 2025, months after the center had already begun planning for this year’s Pride events, emails show. This earlier version did not even include consultation with the Pride Center on the festival’s logistics, instead it simply stated that “The City will select the date and location of the Baltimore Pride Festival and Block Party.”
A November 13 email from Manago to Bryant addressed the Pride Center’s issues with leaving the logistics of the festival solely in the purview of the City.
“As you know, the event dates have already been confirmed, and there are both strategic and cultural considerations that inform our preferred festival location – considerations we believe are important for the City to understand and take into account,” Manago wrote.
Despite acknowledging “historical and cultural concerns,” Bryant reaffirmed the city’s intention to control the festival. “After consulting with our Legal Department, the considerations you [the Pride Center] have requested are considered ‘operational decisions’ that are at the city’s discretion,” she wrote.
Manago and Bryant signed the updated MOU on December 23, 2025, and it was approved by the city’s chief solicitor in February 2026.
As Lascu studied the MOU and related correspondence, he wondered, “Why would an organization sign off on that type of statement?”
Lascu and the interfaith coalition continued to write to the mayor’s office, City Council, and city agencies inquiring about the city’s standard practices for major festivals and use of MOUs, ultimately prompting an email from Manago to members of the mayor’s office, City Council, Pride Center staff and partners, and Lascu. With the subject “Official Statement on Representation, Leadership, and the Integrity of Baltimore Pride Planning,” the April 16 email stated that Lascu did “not represent the Pride Center of Maryland in any capacity – formal, informal, or implied.”
This was despite action items on their agenda from the first meeting with Lascu, which indicate that he would “call city contacts (including Odette Ramos and relevant civic and business district leaders) to advocate for Charles Street/Wyman Park location.”
The email went on to reassert the Pride Center’s compliance with the city’s power structure.
“The relocation of the festival to Druid Hill Park, along with the need for a defined and functional footprint, required that parade route decisions be made accordingly. While Charles Street holds cultural significance, it does not override these realities.”
In an interview, Tramour Wilson, chief director of special projects at the Pride Center, acknowledges that separating the festival from the parade route “was a really hard decision for us.” In the community convening, Wilson recalls “[Community members] were concerned about the Saturday festival leaving Charles Street. They were concerned about the parade not happening on Charles Street for visibility.” He goes on to defend the decision that came out of the April meeting.
“City officials justif[ied] why we landed here. The growth of the festival and all of these things. And then, from there on out, it became the Pride Center’s responsibility to pick one of those parade routes out of the three that were offered, and we picked the one that seemed most acceptable to [the] community,” Wilson says.
Frustrated by the lack of clarity, Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride had requested an in-person meeting with officials of the mayor’s office, the Pride Center, the City Council, and community members in April. After a contentious meeting, the Pride Center decided that the parade will march north on Charles Street from North Avenue and end between 29th and 30th Street.
Despite continued disagreements, Lascu is happy with some measures the Pride Center has discussed in order to address the concerns, including bussing options between Charles Street and Druid Hill Park. But the autonomy of Pride is still the larger issue hanging over this year’s celebration.
Organizers of independent Pride events outside of the Pride Center’s lineup echo this sentiment. Co-founder of Charm City Pride Fest, the annual women-led takeover of Power Plant Live, Celeste Osei likewise sees the autonomy of Pride as key to the tradition’s survival.
“Pride has always been strongest when it’s built by the community. Governments change. Political priorities change. Community is what remains,” Osei says. “Recent anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and messaging are a reminder that progress isn’t guaranteed. Pride existed long before many institutions embraced us, and it will continue to exist regardless of political trends. It’s not just a celebration, it’s a place where people find community, feel seen, and know they belong. That’s exactly why protecting these spaces matters.”
“Pride has always been strongest when it’s built by the community. Governments change. Political priorities change. Community is what remains.”
Celeste Osei, co-founder of Charm City Pride Fest
Faith Communities of Baltimore With Pride will still be participating in the festival, but in what Risdorfer calls “a very reduced fashion,” with only one tent.
“I think it’s just because of the whole taste everybody has in their mouth. Why spend a couple thousand dollars to get three spaces when we’re not sure it’s gonna work? I’m not sure
anybody’s gonna come from the parade, into the buses, and then go to the after the parade event,” Risdorfer explains. “It’s a lot.”
For Risdorfer, the question of the future of Baltimore Pride’s autonomy remains urgent, especially while the Trump administration has attempted to remove LGBTQ+ symbols like the Stonewall National Monument’s rainbow flag from the public eye.
“I think I want them to remember what the purpose of a Pride event is,” he says. “And particularly as politics, the political atmosphere changes, how important it is to reinstate those original roles.”