City Watch

Salt Lake City’s novel approach to curbing the city’s issues with homelessness

You can’t create a community with just tiny homes,” says Joseph Grenny, founder of The Other Side Academy (TOSA). “You can’t create the variety of resources, opportunities and rich growth experiences that human beings need by sticking them on an island somewhere.” For Grenny, creating a community means creating the right culture, and that is what he and his organization hope to do with their newest project, The Other Side Village.

TOSA has successfully been helping individuals with criminal records and issues with substance abuse turn their lives around since 2015. With The Other Side Village, they want to help chronically homeless individuals (those who have been continuously homeless for more than a year). The Village will eventually provide 430 tiny homes to over 600 individuals facing chronic homelessness. It will be built on a 37-acre lot located at 1850 W. Indiana Ave. in Salt Lake City. But to get the Village started, TOSA is focusing on the Village’s pilot project, which they hope to have ready this summer. It will consist of 60 tiny homes on an 8-acre portion of the 37-acre lot. The parcel is being leased to the organization by the city for $1 a year. It will cost $13.8 million to get the pilot project off the ground, with funding coming from TOSA itself, as well as a $5 million grant from the city. However, TOSA hopes the Village will be self-sustaining in a few short years after being fully built.

The idea for the Village originated at City Hall as they were looking for ways to curb homelessness in the city, which saw a 7% increase from 2020 to 2022. “I was seeing that these tiny home villages were having a lot of success with [homeless] populations that we were not having success with here in Utah,” says Salt Lake City Mayor, Erin Mendenhall. Preexisting tiny home villages, like the Community First! Village in Austin, Texas, inspired Mendenhall to campaign for a similar project in Salt Lake City. She announced her plans for the Village in January of 2021. Within two years, the project had approval from the City Council, a property to build on and patronage from TOSA.

How Will the Project Work?

While the project is philanthropic and charitable in nature, Grenny emphasizes that they aren’t just giving tiny homes away. “Our belief is that the focus of The Other Side Village needs to be not on homes, but on culture,” he says. “It needs to be on creating a community that helps people look at themselves honestly, supports someone changing their life and holds them accountable to changing their life.” Part of making residents accountable is by charging low rent and giving them a role in the community, such as working at TOSA’s doughnut shop or the organization’s moving company. Residents will also be required to follow community rules that include no drug use and keeping a clean home.

To make sure these individuals are ready to live in the Village and become a healthy part of the community, they will first be initiated through something Grenny calls the “Welcome Neighborhood.” It will help individuals transition from a homeless lifestyle to a community-compatible lifestyle. “You learn how to keep your room clean, how to cooperate with others,” says Grenny. It’s in the “Welcome Neighborhood” that individuals learn to, not only be accountable for themselves, but accountable for the community as a whole. “If somebody is stealing something from the community that isn’t theirs,” explains Grenny, “you’ll learn over time that you’re responsible to notice that and to bring that to the person’s attention or to somebody else’s attention.”

Proof of Concept

For anyone looking at the project with concern about the effect the Village could have on surrounding communities, Grenny understands where they are coming from. “I think we’ve seen in Utah many promises made about similar projects—how they won’t have negative effects on a community,” says Grenny. “But then they do.” However, he wants people to see the Village as bringing assets, not problems. Not only will the Village bring TOSA’s thriving businesses to the area, but it also hopes to hold cultural events, such as music festivals and markets. “People will come and learn to recognize the Village isn’t some cast-off place for the people we don’t want to think about,” he says. “It’s a cool spot.”

The pilot project may be a small start for The Other Side Village, but TOSA hopes it will translate to bigger ambitions. “Our hope is to prove a model,” says Grenny. “The goal is to try to open source [the model] to any city in the world that wants to do something similar. We can teach, we can train, we can share and we’ll promote the diffusion of the idea as much as we possibly can.” Pending the success of the Village, Utah could start to see similar communities being built in other parts of Utah. “I’m that excited that more organizations will be inspired to take on tiny homes as an approach,” says Mendenhall. “I think that tiny homes aren’t only for those who are living unsheltered today, but we should have tiny home villages and communities for people at all points of life.”

The Other Side Academy

• Other Side Movers: One of several training schools at The Other Side Academy that provides residential moving services to the public.

• Other Side Thrift Boutique: A high-end, second-hand store that offers gently used furniture, brand-name clothing, housewares, and much more.

• Other Side Builders: A General Contractor specializing in residential interior remodels.

All proceeds go directly to the Other Side home, to feed and clothe residents who are rebuilding their lives at The Other Side Academy. 

For more info, visit: theothersideacademy.com

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Nothing stirs Summit County residents quite like a development debate. The potent mixture of NIMBYs, developers, profiteers, conservationists and more creates a cosmic gumbo of opinion, motive and messaging. The most recent battleground is Park City’s entrance corridor in Kimball Junction, where developers for Dakota Pacific have been fighting to rezone a fledgling tech campus into a vast mixed use residential and commercial area in the face of vehement local opposition. But now it appears as if all the energy thrown at the issue will be for naught, as the Utah Legislature passed a law taking the decision out of Summit County’s hands while gifting the win to developers.

Essentially, language added into Senate Bill 84 at the last moment by Rep. Casey Snider—which was never discussed on the floor—allows developers in counties which are non-compliant with Housing and Transit Reinvestment Zone (HTRZ) planning to build up to 39 units per acre as long as 10 percent of the units are classified as affordable housing. Summit County was deemed out of compliance as they did not formally apply for approval of their HTRZ, which promotes affordable housing development around transit hubs.

 The bill’s passage effectively removes Summit County’s ability to approve or deny the rezoning request for a major development within its boundaries. “It might as well say Summit County on the legislation,” says Roger Armstrong, Summit County Council Chair. “Dakota Pacific has a pending application before the Summit County Council, and they’ve helped author language for the legislature that effectively vests the exact uses they’ve asked for.”  

 The area, on the west side of S.R. 224 in Kimball Junction was originally planned as a tech development, but attracting businesses proved difficult and the property remained largely undeveloped. Dakota Pacific purchased the property in 2018 knowing the restrictions in place and has sought approval for a mixed-use development ever since. Opposition has been fierce, led by groups like Friends for Responsible Development (FRD). FRD did not respond to numerous requests for comment, however in a public statement issued in late February said, “John Miller and Dakota Pacific have worked the back halls of the Utah State Capitol” and “in a move that is 100% corrupt and beyond egregious have seized Summit County’s land-use authority.”

 Representatives from Dakota Pacific likewise did not respond to multiple requests for comment. However, they have publicly positioned their plans for the area as a necessary boon to the community describing affordable housing in Summit County as “urgently needed.”

 Armstrong counters that while housing availability is a valid issue, the narrative is a disingenuous attempt to further an agenda. “The narrative is that Summit County is allergic to housing, and that’s just not true,” he says. “There are more than 1,100 deed-restricted units as part of various projects in Summit County, which is way over the 10 percent required. We’ve invited legislators to come take a look at what we’re doing, and they just ask, ‘what’s your problem with affordable housing?’ Even with affordable housing included in projects, the market rate housing ends up so impossibly expensive the middle gets left out.”

 The future of Summit County is unwritten, especially with the prospect of another Olympics on the horizon. So, what’s the correct balance between progress and preservation? It’s a difficult one to strike, but Armstrong warns of a positive feedback loop. “We take dirt from one hole to fill another and end up with a deeper hole,” he says. Adding to the population requires more services, which requires an ever-greater number of employees like law enforcement officers, teachers, fire and EMS personnel and staff for necessary services like grocery stores and gas stations. The result is the exact same discussions about land use, housing, traffic and affordability down the line.

 “The Governor’s position is essentially, ‘Build baby build,’” Armstrong says. “But when can we say we’re at a stable level of development with housing available and good businesses for the community as a whole? We have to maintain some influence over that locally.”  

Who’s Funding These Changes?

Ethics concerns pervade the passage HTRZ amendments in SB 94 and HB 446. Dan Hemmert, who previously owned a financial stake in the Dakota Pacific Project is now a lobbyist for the company. He oversaw the transit zone development program as head of the Governor’s Office of Economic Opportunity until the end of 2022, and on January 18, 2023, registered as a lobbyist for Dakota Pacific. Casey Snider, who introduced the pertinent language changes received $4,270 in political contributions from the Utah Association of Realtors and $1,000 from the Utah Homebuilders Association. Utah Speaker of the House Brad Wilson has received $40,093 and $9,650 from the same organizations and House Majority Leader Mike Schultz $12,000 and $2,900 respectively. While far from the only lawmakers receiving such funding, it raises valid questions about who’s benefiting from decisions impacting Utah communities.

Contribution findings based on publicly available information See: followthemoney.org.

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Someday, When folks talk about the tech boom in Utah, they’ll likely name-check companies like Word Perfect and Novell. Other folks will tell you about the beginnings of Atari, Pixar and the capital “I” Internet itself from the computer science department at the University of Utah. And while all that’s true, the truth is that tech innovation in Utah started in 1954. With cows.

Yes. Cows. 

Computers in 1954 were less desktop and more floor top. They lived in giant, temperature-controlled rooms, tended to by men with vinyl protectors protecting their pockets from mechanical pencils and slide rules. That year, IBM debuted the IBM 650, the world’s first mass-produced computer and brought data processing power out of the realms of military and big-think research into the broader world. The IBM 650 weighed 6,000 pounds. The power unit and CPU were 5 feet tall and took up 12 feet of floor space, with another 3 feet required for the card reader. Its proto-nerd tenders input and output data with manila punch cards. It also had a big, comforting panel of blinking lights, making it the first computer that actually looked like it was doing something after the data went in. 

But back to those cows. 

The new access to computing power caught the attention of researchers in Utah State University’s Agriculture Department. They were trying to devise better ways for dairy farmers to keep track of their herds beyond just going out to the barn and counting cows. Milk was big business in Utah and the world’s first big (literally) business computers were about to change the way farmers worked—from measuring production to calculating costs; managing feed to shipping product, everything could be counted down to the last curd. The USU Department of Agriculture was about to become the USU Department of Agricultural Science. 

The effort at USU created the private company Dairy Herders Incorporated (DHI) in 1954. DHI, as it’s known today, was the first data processing company in Utah and, heck, the first tech company west of the Mississippi. Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, both born in 1954, were literally babies while tech was growing here in Utah, out in the milking barn, with the cows. 

 

Silicon Slopes Defined (Sort of)

Today, we are a long way from punch cards and mammoth machines. You have more computing power in your pocket than a room full of IBM 650s. Data whizzes back and forth in the air we breathe. There’s gold in them thar data packets and the rush is on here in Utah’s Silicon Slopes. 

Silicon Slopes is many things. It’s a term coined by Domo founder Josh James to assert Utah’s place next to the dominant noun of Silicon Valley, where baby Steve Jobs grew up to wear turtlenecks and create the tech that put that room full of IBM 650s in your pocket. It’s a place, loosely considered the area just past the Utah State Prison as you cross the border from Salt Lake to Utah County. (But really tech companies are located all up and down the Wasatch Front.) It’s an organization, something like a chamber of commerce created by the dominant figures in Utah’s tech world to promote Utah as a place to do that voodoo that tech innovators do. 

Silicon Slopes, the one with the logo and offices, is administered by Clint Betts, a fast-talking wunderkind with sneaker game who came out of the startup world and saw the need to create an entity that could share information, bring people together and tell the story of the Utah tech community.

“In the startup world, everyone knows who’s who in Utah,” Betts says. “We all knew all the names and the history, but no one was telling those stories to the larger community so we started thinking about what it would look like to really tell those stories and connect to the world.”

The non-profit outfit exists to draw attention to the Utah tech scene, attract talent and encourage them to stay. It also works to create and retain tech talent from within, lobbying for legislation like the recently passed HB 227—The Utah Computer Science Grant Act—which provides funding for Utah schools to teach computer science. (See sidebar: “Did Utah Blow Millions for Tech Funding?”) It also presents free monthly workshops and networking events at its HQ at Thanksgiving Point and other locations around the state. Its big show is the annual Silicon Slopes Tech Summit, that this year brought more than 20,000 members of the tech industry (nerds!) to the Salt Palace for workshops, rah-rah keynotes from the likes of Alexander Rodriguez (yes, that one) and networking klatches.

Why Utah is The Place (Again)

Word Perfect and Novell were truly the two first tech “giants” in Utah in the early 1980s. The first, founded by Bruce Bastian and Alan Ashton, created the industry standard for word processing. Novell, under the leadership of Ray Noorda, was, in its day, the industry standard in networking. 

Both were perfectly positioned for their time. Personal computers started showing up in homes and offices and, well, we needed ways to use them. Word Perfect took that befuddling blinking green command line and gave you the power to turn it into a familiar typewriter-type interface. Novell, meanwhile, made business-grade networking technology that allowed computers to talk to each other. 

And both companies were acquired or absorbed into bigger players that came along as tech innovation heated up. Microsoft essentially crushed Word Perfect, while Novell slowly became obsolete as desktop computers began to come with networking capabilities built in. 

But their true legacy was to start a culture of tech innovation in Utah, says Val Hale, Director of the Governor’s Office of Economic Development (GOED).

Before Word Perfect and Novell, companies would grow, expand and move away,” Hale says. “Those two were on the cutting edge back then and they trained a whole community of skilled tech workers who chose to stay in Utah Valley and build their own companies.”

And those companies begat more skilled workers, who begat more companies and so on, and so on. Suddenly there’s an ecosystem of talent and skill that wasn’t there before. For example, in 2009, Adobe purchased Omniture, an analytics platform, instead of shutting down the Utah shop and moving it to Adobe HQ in San Jose, Calif. Adobe opted to build an outpost here in 2012. 

“These companies are realizing that they can grow and prosper in Utah,” Hale says. “They don’t have to move to California or Boston.”

Another case is Skullcandy, the whiz-bang headphones company that started in Park City. Jeremy Andrus came to Utah in 2005 from the Bay Area and was instrumental in Skullcandy’s success. When the brand went public, Andrus decided to move on but also to stay in Utah for his next venture: Traeger, a high-tech grill company (yes, that’s a thing) with an HQ in Sugar House.

“First, Utah is a very business-friendly state and people here are incredibly entrepreneurial,” Andrus says. “But it’s more than that. There’s a sense that we are the underdogs and so you have a lot of people who are willing to grind it out and do the work.”

“Our intent was not to shut down a decades-old company in Oregon,” Andrus says. “But the people we had in Utah were just much more passionate and committed. We could build a better team here. So, we shut down our Oregon office and brought it all here.”

For Aaron Skonnard, a founder of Pluralsight, a global tech-training company, Utah was the most compelling spot when he was considering where to locate.

“In 2004, my cofounders and I lived in different states,” Skonnard says. “We were just a virtual company. When we compared Utah to California and the East Coast there was lots to like. A pool of developers, sure but it was also the culture of the state. There’s a feeling of community here where people really want to build things. We’ve never regretted the choice to locate here. We’ve had all the talent we’ve needed to grow at an incredible rate.”

Did Utah Blow Millions for Tech Funding? 

At last January’s Silicon Slopes Summit, five of Utah’s tech leaders gave the Utah Legislature a challenge. If lawmakers could come up with at least $5 million in funding for computer science education in Utah schools, they’d each pony up $1 million to match the effort. That’s $5 million if you’re counting along.

In an effort to respond to the challenge, lawmakers proposed HB 227 to provide grant money to schools from kindergarten (start ’em young) to high school, to build computer science programs. The original bill called for $7 million in funding for the effort that would have surpassed the threshold and released the $5 million.

But alas, last-minute wrangling over the budget beat the bill down to $3 million in one-time funding. The hang-up? Governor Gary Herbert’s push for tax reform. Bills like HB 227 were all reduced and marked as one-time allocations in anticipation of the special session to revamp state taxes. The deal isn’t dead, exactly, just caught in a morass of politics begging the question: What do a bunch of billionaires gotta do to give away $5 million bucks around here?

This interactive timeline on the history of student activism at BYU is a companion piece to Salt Lake magazine’s story on the perspectives of current students at BYU on the visibility and experiences of marginalized communities at the private, religious university.

The timeline follows not only acts of student activism, but the actions, beliefs and policies that inspired that activism, as well as the fallout or institutional change as a result to protest.

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Rainbow demonstrations, civil rights clashes, rallies, walk-outs and viral TikTok accounts—marginalized students at BYU may be more visible than ever before, but can increased visibility lead to increased understanding and acceptance within the wider community? Current BYU students share their perspectives. 

On the evening of March 4, 2021, Maddison Tenney was working late deep within a ceramics studio on the Brigham Young University campus when her phone started buzzing with activity. “My phone starts blowing up,” she says. One message asked, “Are you watching?” Tenney walked outside. On the mountain above the Provo campus, the iconic “Y” lit up the night in rainbow colors. 

For Tenney, who first started to realize she was queer in 2017, it was a revelation. “The idea that someone who didn’t even know me, who loves me in such a powerful way that they’re willing to climb a mountain, really gave me the confidence and sense of belonging that I needed,” she says. 

The group Color the Campus lit up the “Y” to “show love and support for LGBTQ+ students and faculty at all CES [Church Education System] schools.” The cascade of events that led up to the rainbow-lighted “Y,” and the events that followed, demonstrate the sea of uncertainty for those navigating existence in the margins of the community.

Community from visibility

One year before, in February of 2020, BYU made a change to its Honor Code, excising an entire section from the CES handbook about “homosexual behavior.” Every student and staff member at a CES institution, such as BYU, signs the Honor Code, agreeing to obey its strictures or face discipline. The removed section of the 2020 code reads, in part: “Homosexual behavior is inappropriate and violates the Honor Code. Homosexual behavior includes not only sexual relations between members of the same sex but all forms of physical intimacy that give expression to homosexual feelings.”

In the wake of the change, stories started circulating of queer BYU students celebrating by coming out publicly or demonstrating physical affection—holding hands, hugging, kissing—openly for the first time. For some, the change represented a shift toward greater LGBTQ+ acceptance, even if only tacitly. The celebration was short-lived. BYU tweeted shortly after the change to the handbook, “We’ve learned that there may have been some miscommunication as to what the [2020] Honor Code changes mean. Even though we have removed the more prescriptive language, the principles of the Honor Code remain the same.” BYU representatives went on to say because dating means different things to different people, the Honor Code Office would handle any questions on a case-by-case basis. Still, some hoped, could there perhaps be room for LGBTQ+ students to date openly like their heterosexual peers? 

The answer was no. Two weeks later, CES leadership followed up with a letter, stating, “One change to the Honor Code language that has raised questions was the removal of a section on ‘Homosexual Behavior.’…Same-sex romantic behavior cannot lead to eternal marriage and is therefore not compatible with the principles included in the Honor Code.”

Then, the demonstrations began. For days, students clad in rainbows and holding signs gathered outside of the Wilkinson Student Center on BYU campus to protest what some saw as a reversal of the Honor Code change. Some students say they felt betrayed, lured into coming out or being open with their relationships, only to have that openness taken away. The swift arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic and shutdowns threatened to undermine the movement’s momentum, but the cat (or cougar) was out of the bag. 

BYU student and representative of Cougar Pride Center, Mariane Rizzuto, recalls how the campus landscape changed from before to after those short weeks in Winter 2020. “In my experience, everything my freshman year was really hush-hush. I didn’t know any people who were out publicly. I think a lot of [non-LGBTQ] people were less cautious about their words and might say something inadvertently homophobic,” she says. “There are definitely people who have been, and continue to be, very hostile towards our community.” But, she believes the issue is that, overwhelmingly, many people on campus never had to think about queer issues until recently.

A year to the day after the CES letter sparked protests, students were back on campus and looking up at a rainbow “Y” for the first time. BYU, once again, reacted with a tweet, saying, “BYU did not authorize the lighting of the ‘Y’ tonight.” Authorized or not, Maddison Tenney was inspired.

“I went home that night and started the ‘Raynbow’ Collective,” she says. It began as a small Instagram account with the goal of sharing the stories of queer BYU students and their experiences—“The good, the bad and the ugly,” says Tenney. “To give a more holistic view of what it’s like to be queer at BYU.” As time went on, “We started getting really big really quick,” she says.

“It’s become clear how big the community is,” says Rizzuto. “I think there was some real power in seeing a bunch of queer students gathering and resisting, on campus, very visibly.” And visibility begets more visibility. 

Raynbow Collective joined existing student groups like Understanding Sexuality, Gender and Allyship (USGA) and the Cougar Pride Center (CPC), further amplifying the visibility of BYU’s queer community as a whole. “It’s all about proximity, right?” says Tenney. “Queer folks aren’t some kind of scary monster. We’re your neighbors, family members and friends. We’re in your Relief Societies and wards. I think the increased visibility and proximity has really created a lot more openness and increased the need to address the student population as it is.” 

It’s also provided the community that students like Rizzuto had been looking for. Early in her education at BYU, the other queer students close to Rizzuto transferred to UVU. “I felt like I was suddenly alone at BYU again,” she says, then she came across an application to join CPC. After joining, she says, “I definitely think I have a community now that I never really felt like I had my entire life.” And, the newfound openness has helped other queer students find the same. “People now have access to information on where to find community in new ways.”

The push-pull of progress

(Check out our Interactive Timeline on the History of Student Activism at BYU)

The growing prominence and activity of the queer community and other marginalized groups at BYU has not come about without resistance. After the lighting of the “Y,” BYU introduced a policy on demonstrations that explicitly bans all demonstrations on the “Y” mountain, citing safety concerns, and erected a fence around the “Y.” In response, Color the Campus lit the “Y” in trans-flag colors. Then, in June 2022, queer student groups held the first BYU-approved LGBTQ+ demonstration on campus since the introduction of the policy.

In 2019, before the wider protests, BYU political science valedictorian Matt Easton spoke openly about being gay in his commencement speech. The video of his speech has 250,000 views on Youtube. BYU’s Social Science Department approved the speech beforehand, but Easton still drew the ire of LDS Church leadership. In a 2021 speech at BYU, apostle Jeffrey R. Holland posited, “If a student commandeers a graduation podium…in order to announce his personal sexual orientation, what might another speaker feel free to announce the next year until eventually, anything goes?” Holland goes on to quote former BYU president Dallin H. Oaks to implore members of BYU’s faculty and staff to show a little more “musket fire” when defending the LDS faith’s current views on sexuality and marriage. 

Easton penned a response letter to Holland in The Salt Lake Tribune, writing, “Within an hour of your remarks, three current BYU students expressed to me how unsafe and scared they felt knowing that church leaders instructed the university’s faculty to use metaphorical ‘musket fire’ to defend the ‘doctrine of the family’ and push back against LGBTQ+ inclusion.”

“I think the coalition building has been incredible. It’s been incredible to see what has been accomplished at BYU. There is so much support from faculty, staff and other students,” says Tenney. “On the other hand, facing active threats of violence has been really difficult, but, ultimately, I think the culture has been moving in a more positive way. And I think that will continue.” 

Going into BYU’s Fall 2022 term, Tenney and Raynbow Collective prepared pamphlets for the new freshman gift bags which outlined resources for LGBTQ+ students and allies. The campus newspaper, The Daily Universe initially approved the pamphlets, and Raynbow Collective paid and signed a contract with the paper to distribute the pamphlets. BYU administration decided to remove the pamphlets from the bags after Student Life had started to deliver them to freshman dorms. “That experience was disappointing and disheartening,” says Tenney. “But, it also gave us the opportunity to have a lot of really fantastic conversations about how BYU interacts with outside businesses and organizations.” Reportedly, BYU removed the pamphlets to avoid appearing as if it was affiliated with any of the off-campus groups mentioned in the pamphlets, and the university prefers students to use its new Office of Belonging rather than off-campus resources. 

“What we really wanted was for more students to have access to life-saving resources,” says Tenney. BYU’s removal of the pamphlets made headlines internationally. That spreads the word perhaps more effectively than the pamphlets themselves could have. “Even though what happened wasn’t our intention,” says Tenney, “People worldwide were able to help provide queer students with resources, and that couldn’t have happened any other way.”

“Queer folks aren’t some kind of scary monster. We’re your neighbors, family members and friends.”

—Maddison Tenney

Building Belonging   

With the growing visibility of marginalized students at BYU, their message to the university is often how the institution could build a place where all students feel like they belong. The fallout from a 2022 talk by BYU religion professor Brad Wilcox put a spotlight on how BYU deals with racism. “‘How come the Blacks [in the LDS Church] didn’t get the priesthood until 1978?’” posits Wilcox in a video of his talk. “Maybe what we should be asking is, ‘Why did the whites and other races have to wait until 1829?’ When you look at it like that…we can just be grateful!” Wilcox later tweeted an apology, “To those I offended, especially my dear Black friends, I offer my sincere apologies, and ask for your forgiveness.”

In response, members of BYU’s Black Student Union (BSU) met with Wilcox. Ron Weaver III, BSU’s VP of Activities, who was in the meeting, says, “I had to correct him.” Telling Wilcox, “You apologized for embarrassing your family and friends. That’s not directly addressing the situation.” They recommended, rather than a statement, Wilcox put out a video explaining his mistake to be seen by all Black members and students. “We said, ‘this would help a lot of people.’ It wouldn’t fix all of the issues, but that would help,” says Weaver, but the video never materialized “That’s my biggest frustration,” says Weaver. “When there’s an issue, everyone would rather be hush-hush. But when we make a mistake, we have to be held fully accountable, as Christ teaches us.” Weaver says he wants the rules to apply to everyone. “Students are held accountable, but people with titles make the same mistakes and nothing is done… If we have grace and mercy for professors, have it for students, too.”  

BYU released their report on “Race, Equity and Belonging” in February 2021. In speaking with BIPOC (Black, indigenous and people of color) students, the report found they experienced “loneliness and isolation” because of racism at BYU. Among the report’s recommendations was to create a new office to plan and implement “initiatives to assist students and employees with issues related to race, equity and belonging.” BYU’s Office of Belonging opened its doors in September 2022. Now Weaver says he is working with students in the office to improve representation and address racial inequality within BYU’s dress and grooming standards. This comes after he was brought into the Honor Code Office for a possible violation.

In early 2018, Weaver dyed his hair blond. The Honor Code counselor told Weaver his hair was “unnatural and unprofessional.” Weaver says he tried to crack jokes because being called into the Honor Code Office is a scary thing. “When you get called to the Honor Code Office, it could mean you’re getting kicked out of school for breaking the rules.” But while blond might be a natural, and therefore acceptable, color for a white student, the feeling at the time was that it was not acceptable for a Black student. “Who are they to determine what professionalism is?” asks Weaver. “There are multiple hairstyles within our [Black American] culture that are professional, but they don’t know what they are because they don’t have the right representation.” 

The new Office of Belonging offers resources, like a way to report discrimination, and plans to implement “extensive diversity and inclusion training programs” this academic year. Before that, “they had paused all [diversity] training after Elder Holland’s talk,” says Tenney. That was August 2021. During that time, Raynbow Collective provided Equality Educator training with Equality Utah and continues providing DEI training as of March 2023. “We believe that professors and students deserve information about race and gender equality and on how to treat people with kindness and empathy.”   

BYU is on the precipice of a new era. This March, BYU announced a new university president to replace Kevin J. Worthen. C. Shane Reese, who has been academic vice president at BYU since 2019, was on the Committee on Race, Equity & Belonging, but reactions to his presidential appointment have been mixed. When BYU cancelled gender-affirming therapy for transgender clients of its Speech and Language Clinic, Reese defended BYU’s decision in a letter to the program’s accrediting body. In response to Reese’s appointment, Raynbow Collective released a statement, “All students deserve a campus that is safe, kind and full of resources. This includes students on the margins, students seeking belonging, and students unsure of where to start.”

“All students deserve a campus that is safe, kind, and full of resources.“

—Maddison Tenney, Raynbow Collective

A kinder place

On just about any social media post about being a BIPOC or queer student at BYU, you are also likely to find a commenter encouraging said students to “get out of there” or “go to school somewhere else.” While the commenters are often well-meaning, Rizzuto says those comments are also not very helpful. “It drives me crazy…We exist in every space, and telling us to just ‘go away’ is unproductive.” 

Rizzuto says it also doesn’t account for the many reasons why a marginalized student might end up at BYU in the first place or why they feel the need to stay. “Many of us felt either pressure from our family or some combination of that and financial reasons,” she explains. BYU is a comparatively cheap university to attend and even if a student wanted to transfer, not many can afford to restart their education elsewhere. 

“I have some complicated reasons why I chose to go to BYU,” says Rizzuto, whose entire family has attended BYU and whose grandfather was a BYU professor. “But one of them is definitely that I wanted my parents to be proud of me.” In the end, she says, asking people ‘why would you stay there?’ is “saying to the marginalized group that it’s all in us. It’s putting all the pressure on us instead of asking the institution to have some more respect.” 

Weaver enrolled at BYU expecting to find a diverse, open-minded community of faith like the one he had back in Chicago. What he found was a lot of ignorance of people of other races and circumstances, like single-parent households. “There were a lot of people who did not look like me, who did not understand where I was coming from.” When he saw racism on campus—with hairstyles or racial slurs—he says, “I was blindsided. I thought, ‘we’re all supposed to be people of Christ.’” 

Rizzuto recognizes that some of the concerns involve more than just BYU’s students or campus. “We’re dealing not only with BYU, but it’s reflective of  the church, which reflects the culture that most of us grew up in, and our families, and it’s just—it’s a lot bigger than us. And it’s a lot bigger than BYU in a lot of cases.” 

Given the chance, Weaver says he would still choose BYU, if he had all of the knowledge he has now. “The reason why I fight for these things is because I would love for my kids to come to BYU. I love this place. This is the place where I met my wife.” But he doesn’t want his kids, or anyone else, to go through what he’s gone through at BYU, so he’s staying to change things from the inside. “Nothing against people who have left. I want to work with them because the overall point is how do we stop people from getting treated this way?”

Faith is a reason why marginalized students first choose BYU and why they choose to stay at BYU…and a reason they want to make it better. 

“If we really deeply believed in the inherent divinity then this would be a much kinder place,” says Tenney. “I believe BYU has that capacity. I think the church has that capacity. I know its members definitely have that capacity.”  

BYU Student Snapshot

34,390 total students:

Caucasian: 81%

Hispanic or Latino: 9%

Two or more races: 4.5%

Asian: 3%

Pacific Islander: 1%

Black: 1%

American Indian: <1%

According to a March 2022 BYU ‘Campus Climate’ student survey:

Gender: 45% male, 54% female, 0.7% transgender or other

Sexual orientation: 92% straight, 5% bisexual, 2% gay/lesbian, 1% other

In a study released in 2021, of the 7,625 BYU students surveyed, 996 students (13%) indicated a sexual orientation other than “strictly heterosexual.”

More Visibility: Queer Coalition 

Cougar Pride Center: a group aiming to empower queer BYU students, celebrate progress and advocate for change through collaborative activism. Among their efforts is the Safe Housing Project which helps connect queer students with affirming housing options. cougarpridecenter.org

The Out Foundation: a group with a mission to empower LGBTQ+ students and alumni of BYU with initiatives based on the needs of students and alumni. The group also provides some guidance transferring from BYU for queer students who reach the “tipping point where they decide to leave.” theout.foundation

Raynbow Collective: a volunteer organization focused on creating and identifying safe spaces for LGBTQ+ students, faculty, and staff at BYU by developing networks with organizations, businesses, artists, and activists to support BYU students. raynbowcollective.org

USGA (Understanding Sexuality, Gender, and Allyship): an “unofficial” group of BYU students, faculty and guests who wish to enhance the BYU community by providing a safe space for open, respectful conversation on intersectional LGBTQ+ topics. The longest-running active group of its kind at BYU. usgabyu.com

More Visibility: ‘Be A Menace’

In February of 2022, a TikTok account called Black Menaces posted its first video in which Black students at BYU react to a fireside chat given by BYU religion professor Brad Wilcox. The Black Menace response video has been viewed nearly 430,000 times as of this writing, and The Black Menaces continued to make videos. They pivoted to asking questions of BYU students and posting the various answers in videos on TikTok without commentary from its members. “Who said, ‘Negroes are not equal with other races,’ Adolf Hitler or a church leader?” asks one video. (Answer: It was LDS apostle Bruce R. McConkie.) 

The Black Menaces have also started a podcast, expanded into a social media coalition with chapters at universities all across the country and recently led a student walk-out at BYU as part of the nationwide “Strike Out Queerphobia” event to end federal Title IX exemptions for religious institutions. theblackmenaces.org

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On Tuesday, A Southern Utah drag group and The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) of Utah filed suit against the city of St. George after the city selectively applied a local ordinance to deny an event permit to a family-friendly drag show. 

Mitski Avalōx with The Southern Utah Drag Stars applied for the special events permit, back on March 3, 2023, to host the event Allies & Community Drag Show Festival at J.C. Snow Park. A few weeks later, the city denied the application under the pretenses that Avalōx had violated a St. George City ordinance that prohibits advertising for special events until the city grants a permit. 

How did we get here?

In the St. George City Council meetings that followed, members of the city council pointed out that they apply this advertising rule selectively, providing exceptions for events like Redstone Highland Games, Brooks’ Block Party and the Spring Tour of St. George. However, at Avalōx’s appeal hearing on April 11, all present City Council members still voted to deny the permit to the drag show except for Councilperson Danielle Larkin. 

At the same hearing, the council also voted down the appeal for another event permit for Indigo Klabanoff’s Taste of Southern Utah Food Festival. Avalōx referred to the food festival’s denial as collateral damage—likely alluding to Councilperson Michele Tanner’s vocal disapproval for a drag show and screening of the HBO series We’re Here during last year’s Pride celebration in St. George. 

The advertising ordinance has not been routinely enforced until recently, in part because it is unrealistic. Permits are typically not issued until the day of or the day before events, making advertising an event practically impossible.

And, after the big blowout between city leaders’ over the drag event last year, some have suggested the sudden enforcement of the ordinance is a way to allow the city to discriminate against drag shows and LGBTQ-centered events. 

The lawsuit against St. George

The lawsuit filed by the ACLU and Southern Utah Drag Stars alleges that the St. George City Council created a scheme allowing officials to selectively grant permits to favored events while denying all others. The ACLU calls St. George’s special events policies discriminatory against drag performances.

“Requiring drag performers to meet unreasonable standards to receive a permit, or denying them these permits without legitimate justification, is censorship,” says Valentina De Fex, Senior Staff Attorney with the ACLU of Utah. “Our lawsuit challenges the attempt by elected officials, who must uphold the rights guaranteed in the U.S. Constitution and Utah State Constitution, to push subjective viewpoints of what they deem appropriate.” 

“Drag is dance, fashion, and music—it is also deeply rooted in political speech—all protected by the First Amendment,” says Emerson Sykes, Senior Staff Attorney with the ACLU Speech, Privacy, and Technology Project. “This is the latest offense in a larger pattern of attacks discriminating against gender-diverse and LGBTQ+ people and their rights in Utah and throughout the country.” As an example, ACLU points a to a recent slew of bills in six states that ban drag under the guide of protecting children from the obscene. 

“The city of St. George is violating the First Amendment rights of Drag Stars and discriminating against them through a façade of permits and ordinances that have never been applied in this manner with any other group or organization,” said Jeremy Creelan, Partner at Jenner & Block. “LGBTQ+ performers are entitled to protections under the First and Fourteenth Amendments, and we are asking the court to protect these fundamental rights and put a stop to this deeply troubling attack on free expression.”

Moratorium on St. George special events and… other changes

In light of the selective enforcement of the advertising ordinance, the City Council put a six-month moratorium on approving special events permits, starting in March, until they could figure out what to do with the ordinance. Since then, they decided to allow for exemptions from the moratorium for recurring and city-sponsored events, so it only applies to new events.

Another bit of funny business has to do with the public comments allowed at St. George City Council Meetings. In early May, St. George City Mayor Michele Randall banned in-person public comments at city council meetings. Some St. George citizens responded with protests, calling the Mayor’s new policy a violation of their First Amendment rights. On the day Southern Utah Drag Stars and the ACLU filed suit against the city, the Mayor announced she’s walking back the public comment ban. 

The Mayor explained her actions in a statement, saying, “the public input has devolved into statements unrelated to City business and at times, has disrupted the regular conduct of the City’s meetings and business. As a result, as Mayor, I put a “pause” on public input at City Council meetings in order to create more efficiency in accomplishing the City’s business.”

And now, the “pause” is over… with some new conditions: 

1. To comment in-person at City Council meetings, the person must live in St. George and provide their name and address to the city recorder. 
2. The public can only comment on “City business” but not “any agenda item or pending land use application.”
3. Only up-to 10 people can speak at any meeting, each with a two-minute time limit.
4. Commenters must refrain from using “obscene of profane language” and not attack others.
5. Officials will choose 10 people at random, if more than 10 people want to speak. 
6. After giving comment, a person will not be able to offer comment at future meetings for three months
7. People who disrupt meetings with “undue applause, jeering, uninvited comments, or other protests” will be told to leave.

There is another way to offer public comment on city business. Comments can be written and hand-delivered or mailed to the city recorder at 175 E. 200 North, St. George, UT 84770, or emailed at public-comment@sgcity.org. Residents may also submit comments on the city website at sgcity.org/contact/submitpubliccomment.

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Former Ensign Peak portfolio manager David Nielsen will share his experience on exposing details of LDS Church finances

For the first time, the whistleblower will speak publicly about revealing the size and use of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints’ investment portfolio. David Nielsen, a former portfolio manager for the LDS Church’s investment arm, Ensign Peak, blew the whistle on the church’s $100 billion reserve portfolio and misuse of charitable donations. He has never spoken about his experience or told his story publicly, but that’s about to change.

60 Minutes will air a report, including an interview with Nielsen, on Sunday, May 14.

How did we get here?

In November 2019, David Nielsen, a former money manager at Ensign Peak, the investment management branch of the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter-Day Saints, files a whistleblower complaint with the IRS. Nielsen reveals that Ensign Peak had a $100 billion reserve portfolio from stockpiling charitable donations (given as tithing and other monetary donations by members) rather than using them for charitable purposes—possibly breaching federal tax rules. 

The whistleblower complaint accuses LDS Church leaders of misleading members about how their donations are spent. (Members are encouraged to donate 10% of their earnings as tithings to the church to remain in good standing and participate in religious ceremonies and services in its temples.) The complaint also accuses the church of using those tax-exempt donations for business ventures like the City Creek shopping center. 

Come January 2023, Nielsen calls on the Senate to investigate the LDS Church and Ensign Peak Advisors for tax fraud. He files a 90-page memorandum with the Senate Finance Committee, which shows “evidence of false statements, systematic accounting fraud” and violations of tax laws. It goes on to say, “For at least 22 years, [Ensign Peak] and certain senior executives have perpetrated an unlawful scheme that relies on willfully and materially false statements to the IRS and the SEC, so this for-profit, securities investment business that unfairly competes with large hedge funds can masquerade as a tax-exempt, charitable organization.” 

Following the whistleblower complaint, the LDS Church responded with a statement, asserting that “The Church complies with all applicable law governing our donations, investments, taxes, and reserves.” The LDS Church has since agreed that was a lie and the church did intentionally violate the law, per a settlement with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. 

The SEC settlement outlines the efforts made by Ensign Peak, with the knowledge and approval of the LDS Church’s First Presidency, to hide the nature and wealth of the Church’s holdings. Ensign Peak broke the law by creating 13 shell companies to avoid disclosing the size of the Church’s portfolio to the SEC and the public. To what end? “The Church was concerned that disclosure of the assets…would lead to negative consequences in light of the size of the Church’s portfolio.“ One might assume those negative consequences included church members’ refusing to pay to tithe if they knew the billions in the Church’s “reserve funds.”

Find a timeline of the LDS Church’s history of concealing its wealth from federal authorities and the public here.

There are other cases and investigations regarding the LDS Church’s finances, at least partially as fallout from Nielsen’s whistleblower complaint, that are still outstanding. James Huntsman, brother of former Utah Governor Jon Huntsman Jr., filed suit against the LDS Church, claiming the church misused the money he donated (tithed) to the LDS Church. Nielsen filed a statement in the case, claiming the LDS church used tithing money for improper purposes, such as funding its mall, the City Creek Center. The IRS could also further investigate the claims made by the whistleblower complaint that are under its purview.

About the upcoming 60 Minutes report on LDS church finances whistleblower, “The Church’s Firm”

60 Minutes “reports on the $100 billion fortune built by the secretive investment arm of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and a whistleblower’s allegation that instead of spending the money on good works, hundreds of millions were used to bail out businesses with church ties. Sharyn Alfonsi speaks with David Nielsen, a former senior portfolio manager at the church’s firm, about his role in a federal investigation and decision to come forward. Guy Campanile is the producer.”

The 60 Minutes report will air Sunday, May 14 at 7 p.m. ET/PT on CBS and Paramount+ and Tuesday, at 8 p.m. ET, on the CBS News app.

This is perhaps the most attention the LDS Church has received on the newsmagazine program since Mike Wallace interviewed LDS Church President Gordon B. Hinckley on 60 Minutes back in 1996. 

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Six years ago, Taylor Randall, University of Utah’s then-dean of the David Eccles School of Business, stood before a tough crowd. There were no hardball questions about research funding, campus safety, equity or graduation rates. Rather, Randall encouraged his daughter’s classmates to find their passion at Clayton Middle School Career Day. 

“I remember that speech,” says Randall, whose appointment in 2021 as president of the University of Utah has thrust him into the limelight. “It’s true,” he says of a story he shared with the kids, “I did want to be a pro basketball player when I was their age. I lived and breathed basketball, but unfortunately I stopped growing at 5-foot, 9-inches…and I couldn’t jump. It was very clear to me early on that I was in deep trouble.” While Randall may not be living out his NBA fantasies, he says he is living the dream with a career in education. 

Pursuing Passion

The first Utes alum in 50 years to lead his alma mater, the accounting major enrolled at the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania, where he spent eight years earning an MBA and Ph.D. in operations and information management. “I knew I needed to earn a living, but I wanted something with intrinsic value,” he says. “While at Wharton, I really began to admire my professors. They could work on projects they were passionate about and remain intellectually curious, and they could instill confidence in their students. I loved the idea that, like them, I could build organizations and also build people.”

After nearly accepting a teaching position with the University of Chicago, Randall felt a tug toward the Wasatch mountain range. “The job market in Utah academics is thin, so I felt lucky to get a job as a professor of accounting at the UofU in the late ’90s.” Several teaching awards and a decade later, his 2009 appointment to dean of the business school likely came as no surprise to those within the department. In the succeeding decade, under his watch, it grew five-fold and its entrepreneurial program ranked 5th in the country. 

Now leading the charge for the entire University since August 2021, Randall is brimming with plans for the school that “give everyone else FOMO,” but he rejects being credited as the one with all the great ideas. “I wouldn’t describe myself as an ‘ideas guy,’ but I think I am someone who recognizes great ideas and gives them a chance,” he says. “That’s the fun part of my job: meeting people who have energy and passion around their great idea—and then clearing the path for it. I hope at the end of the day, that is what I’m known for.”

‘Commuter Campus’ No More

As Randall works to add “5,000 beds in five years” to accommodate the University’s growth and change its long-standing reputation as a “commuter school” (citing data that shows on-campus students do better than their off-campus counterparts), he says he envisions variations of the Lassonde Institute popping up all over campus, like the Impact & Prosperity Epicenter that broke ground last September.

“I think we’re in a moment where universities have to completely redefine the relationship they have with students and their community,” says Randall.  “A student today isn’t like a student 20 or 30 years ago. A teacher’s job is no longer to disseminate information, but to teach students how to use the information at their fingertips.”

‘Who We Include’

Randall is taking seriously the concern among some that an internal hire—particularly a hometown white man—is perpetuating what some see as the “establishment” rather than a pivot. How to be more inclusive of a changing student body demographic and addressing campus safety top his priority list. 

In March, the U held its first-ever campus safety conference with Jill McCluskey as the opening speaker. Her daughter Lauren was killed on the U’s campus in 2018. McCluskey acknowledged the safety improvements made at the U since but emphasized the improvements still needed, especially concerning cross-campus communication.

When it comes to inclusiveness, Randall recognized his limitations upon taking office and created a transition team to improve outcomes. Composed of a broad cross-section of the university from students to hospital staff to department chairs, he asked for their recommendations to improve, among other things, sustainability, equity, diversity and inclusion. Through dozens of forums and the creation of the Presidential Commission on Equity and Belonging, he says he’s working to address the harms of racism in the UofU community.

“For too long, universities have made themselves important by excluding people,” he says. “We have to be known for who we include.”

Meeting Students Where They Are

Those middle-schoolers Randall spoke to a handful of years ago? Many are newly-minted college students representing a generation described as more values-driven in their approach to job prospects. Many students want to infuse more meaning into their careers when they enter the workforce. Randall hopes to turn students’ interests into projects that combine profit and purpose—leading to personal satisfaction while tackling Utah’s biggest challenges.

During his first year and a half, he has met with members of the legislature, leaders of other Utah-based universities and community advocates to “clear a path” for student collaboration that could solve our state’s most pressing concerns. “I want people to say, ‘Look what the U is doing’, then join us,” he says. From the Great Salt Lake’s toxic dust, to poor air quality along the Wasatch Front, to inequitable health outcomes throughout the state, Randall thinks the UofU is poised to find the solutions.

“Ideas that change society come from universities,” he says, adding that the UofU is the largest research university in the state by far. “We don’t just want to do research for research’s sake, we actually want to take it into the community so students can see how it changes not only the lives of others but their own.”  

Eat, Sleep, Learn

UofU’s Lassonde Entrepreneur Institute opened its doors in 2016. One of the first buildings of its kind, it offers students a combined residential and learning space complete with studios where they can not only eat, sleep and socialize but also build prototypes and launch companies. 

Randall plans to model the success of the Lassonde with the Impact & Prosperity Epicenter which will contain two research centers: the Sorenson Impact Center and the Center for Business, Health and Prosperity, in addition to housing nearly 800 students.

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Utah’s Hogle Zoo announced a groundbreaking decision earlier this week to pause its historic 100-year care of elephants. Current residents of the zoo, mom Christie (36) and daughter Zuri (13) will be transferred to another Association of Zoos and Aquariums(AZA) accredited facility. An official date for the transfer is yet to be released but officials anticipate they will be relocated by the fall. While zookeepers and zoo goers alike are heartbroken to say goodbye to Christie and Zuri, the move is ultimately best for the pair’s quality of life.  

Utah’s love affair with elephants began 1916 when Salt Lake school children decided to do a fundraiser in order to purchase one from a traveling circus for the local zoo. Her name was Princess Alice. 

Princess Alice was a favorite, drawing visitors from around the region. But Alice didn’t take well to captivity. She became known for her daring escapes, rampaging around the surrounding Liberty Wells neighborhood, knocking down fences, and hiding from searchers for hours. The repeated escapes, although charming, alarmed neighbors and prompted the zoo to relocate to its current location at the mouth of Emigration Canyon in 1931.

Princess Alice remains memorialized in a statue of her visage that is hung in the elephant enclosure at the Hogle Zoo. 

“Much has changed since 1916 when Princess Alice became the first elephant to live in Utah….Zoos’ focus on species care and conservation is more important than ever. The world’s African elephant population declined from 1.1 million in the 1970s to approximately 450,000 today, with an estimated 100 elephants killed every day. Utah’s Hogle Zoo, with the support of the community, has funded worldwide conservation projects to secure important habitats, build ranger stations in East Africa, and form anti-poaching scouting teams.” Utah Hogle Zoo

Despite being one of the few AZA accredited zoos in the United States, there are some necessities that the Hogle zoo has been unable to provide for Christie and Zuri. Elephants benefit greatly from the social dynamic of multigenerational herds which is not possible at the Hogle Zoo’s current facility. Despite expert staff and revolutionary training, attempts at artificially inseminating Zuri have failed due to poor samples. Transferring another bull to the facility would require significant restructuring which would take a minimum of five years to complete. By this time Zuri could age out of her prime reproductive window. 

Utah also isn’t a conducive environment for Christie and Zuri. African elephants naturally inhabit tropical forests, grasslands, and savannahs. They are not built for Utah’s cold snowy winters. In fact The Journal of African Elephants listed the Hogle Zoo as the 10th worst zoo for African elephants in North America. 

In regards to what species the Hogle Zoo will have in the future, CEO and President of the zoo Doug Lund had this to say, “The process is guided by what is best for animal wellbeing, guest impact, and the most effective way to contribute to saving wildlife.” 

For updates on Christie and Zuri the public should folllow hoglezoo.org and @hoglezoo.