There was rain. There was wind. And still, Pride.
At Bryant Park in Lake Worth Beach, Palm Beach Pride returned for its 34th year, drawing thousands to the waterfront for a weekend rooted as much in resilience as celebration.
Storm clouds rolled in on Sunday morning delaying the parade, but clearing up just long enough for it to take place.The storm would come and go through the day.
For some, Pride is a festival. For others, it’s a statement. This year, it was unmistakably both.
Melody Rodriguez of The Crystal Chica started out the first day handing out discount codes to fellow vendors and volunteers. Her approach to Pride is simple: take care of each other.
“Love is love; everyone, everywhere, should be accepted,” Rodriguez said. “I want to meet people, see their energy, and I give discounts to anyone in a show with me… because I want to provide access to healing crystals to everyone.”
A few booths down, the mission was equally clear, just delivered in a different way.
Lia Head-Rigby, with Palm Beach County’s HIV Elimination Services, came focused on resources — HIV prevention, housing assistance, senior services, and financial help through the county’s Community Action Plan.
“We’re here to give access to all these cool services,” she said.
That mix — celebration and service — is what defines Pride in Palm Beach.
For Compass CEO Julie Seaver, the event isn’t about revenue. It’s about reach.
Pride, she said, is their biggest opportunity to connect with people, especially youth and families. Not a fundraiser — a “friendraiser.”
And more importantly, it doesn’t belong to Compass.
“I don’t look at this as my Pride or Compass’ Pride — this is the community’s Pride,” Seaver said. “And I think that all of us could use a little bit more unity in the community, especially this year.”
That unity was tested almost immediately by the weather — and held.
“The community came together, as they always do, refusing to let a little rain wash away what Pride means,” Seaver said afterward. “It takes an incredible team to bring something like this to life, and an even stronger one to keep it going when the skies open up.”
They kept it going.
Maxx Fenning, executive director of PRISM, framed it in sharper terms — not just celebration, but resistance.
“As our community faces more and more attacks, Pride becomes our space to take back our joy — to stare oppression in the face and laugh, sing, and dance our way through it,” Fenning said.
You could feel that in the crowd.
In the chants. In the hugs. In the way people lingered, even as the weather threatened to push them out.
And then there was the stage.
Compass board member Barry Lowenthal didn’t hesitate when asked what stuck with him most.
“Rain and all — people showed up, marched, chanted, the whole thing,” he said. “But the drag performers? That’s what gets me every time. There’s this energy — joy, rebellion, hope — and this Pride just had all of it.”
Joy. Rebellion. Hope.
Even in the rain. Especially in the rain.
CJ Walden contributed to this report.
This article was produced with the assistance of artificial intelligence and edited by OutSFL staff.
OutSFL is a media sponsor of this event. Our editorial team retains full independence in reporting and was not compensated for this coverage.

