Gay Screaming Society: A Mysterious Movement Offers Release Amid Crisis
Simple black-and-white flyers began appearing on telephone poles across New Orleans, featuring an image of Drew Barrymore screaming with the bold words "Gay Screaming Society" at the top. The flyers included a date and a location on the city's lakefront, along with the instruction: "Look for the gay people." Finding the hundreds of gays and theys who gathered at Lake Pontchartrain that day proved to be an easy task. After some initial chatter, individuals with megaphones prompted the crowd to scream, and the response was immediate and powerful.
A Collective Outburst
Two hundred queers, dressed in everything from clown casual to their Sunday best, screamed together as the sunset cast a golden glow over the lake. The screaming continued in waves, with no explicit reason needed—everyone understood the underlying motivations. Participants screamed because of life's challenges, because of America's persistent bigotry, and because of everything else weighing on their minds. One attendee reported screaming so intensely that their throat felt scratchy for days, yet they emerged feeling amazing, as if a tight fist within their body had finally released its grip.
Curiosity about the event's origins led to inquiries, but answers were elusive. "It's a movement," one person claimed, while another stated, "No one knows who organizes it." A third added, "It's global." The individuals with megaphones had blended into the crowd, becoming indistinguishable—ageless, genderless figures shrouded in mystery.
Origins and Intentions
Lindsey Baker, a talent and promotions agent in New Orleans who co-organizes Gay Screaming, explains that a mythology "sort of self-created" around the event. Neither Baker nor her co-conspirator, therapist Austin Davenport, can recall exactly who had the initial idea. One of them saw an article about people screaming at a lakefront in Chicago and texted the other with the suggestion: "This, but make it gay."
Davenport notes that with the current state of affairs, they wanted to provide an opportunity for people to gather and engage in an activity they might already do privately, such as screaming in their cars or into a pillow. "We wanted to invite that similar release into a gathering," they say. The goal was not to force a specific type of release; Davenport observed both tears and laughter among participants.
Addressing a Queer Mental Health Crisis
Gay Screaming serves as an anomaly in queer community building, focusing solely on togetherness without pressure to be nice, look good, solve problems, spend money, or seek romantic connections. Baker emphasizes that it wasn't a party or work event but rather "just doing this fuck-ass shit and it feels so good."
This initiative arrives at a critical time. In 2025, a record 867 anti-LGBTQ+ bills were introduced in the U.S., the highest in history, with most targeting transgender individuals. For context, there were just over 100 such bills in 2020. Additionally, among LGBTQ+ Americans aged 13-24, self-reported anxiety rose from 57% to 68%, depression from 48% to 54%, and suicidal ideation from 41% to 47% between 2023 and 2025, according to the Trevor Project. Access to desired mental health care for those in crisis dropped from 80% to 60% during the same period, contributing to a significant queer mental health crisis.
Davenport agrees that these factors, combined with broader democratic challenges, provide compelling reasons to scream. "The target on trans and queer people right now is so palpable. The discourse is ugly and hateful towards queer and trans people," they say, referencing legislative attacks and a surge of conservatism. Baker adds that she aims to use her privileges to create space for queer people in need of an outlet.
Ensuring Safety and Inclusivity
To avoid drawing unwanted attention, Baker and Davenport organized the event discreetly. Flyers contained no names, social media handles, or specific addresses, relying on word-of-mouth dissemination in public spaces frequented by queer people. This approach proved effective, with numerous individuals sharing flyer images weeks in advance. Baker laughs when discussing the mythos, stating, "I just wanted to attract the gays in a way that feels safe."
The event attracts participants of all ages, from teens to elders, fostering intergenerational connections. The tagline, "Come for the scream and stay for the fellowship," captures the essence of the gathering. Attendees scream, laugh, cry, and socialize—some even host birthday picnics on the grass. As Baker notes, "You can just come and scream and fucking leave. Some people do that, some people linger. Both are very cool."
