Queer Strength on Display: How Pride Deadlift Parties Are Lifting Spirits, Barbells, and Community

If you think “pride” and “powerlifting” make an odd couple, think again. Across North America, Pride Deadlift Parties are taking the fitness world—and the LGBTQ+ community—by storm, transforming what could be a routine gym session into an exuberant, sweaty, sparkly celebration of queer strength and solidarity. Forget the stuffy silence and bro-culture of traditional gyms; here, drag queens emcee, rainbow flags wave, and every PR (personal record) is cheered like a championship win, no matter how much is on the bar.

In Seattle, the annual Pride Deadlift Party—now prepping for its fourth year—has become a block-party-meets-lifting-meet, hosted by Rain City Fit right in the heart of Capitol Hill, the city’s historic gayborhood. The rules? All genders, all bodies, all levels welcome—TERFs and transphobes need not apply.

What sets Pride Deadlift Parties apart isn’t just the glitter or the thumping dance beats. It’s the radical commitment to making strength sports truly inclusive. No weigh-ins. No gender categories. No gatekeeping. Just pure, unfiltered affirmation: “Strength is for everybody and that lifting events should be inclusive for every sex, sexual orientation, gender expression, and gender identity,” the organizers declare on their site.

Transgender and gender nonconforming (TGNC) athletes are not only welcome, but celebrated. “Trans athletes belong in sports—period,” reads the event’s mission statement, a bold stance in a year when trans sports bans are dominating headlines. Queer and allied lifters get three attempts to pull their best deadlift, with volunteers and seasoned athletes guiding newcomers through every step. No experience? No problem. “As strong as you are now is as strong as you have to be!” promises Rain City Fit, the Seattle event’s host.

But this isn’t just a lifting meet—it’s a full-on Pride party. Picture drag performers strutting between sets, a live DJ spinning queer anthems, and the smell of street food wafting through the air. “We’re here to have fun, blast music, raise money and cheer each other on—no matter how much is on the bar, y’all!” reads the Nashville event’s call to action. Costumes and rainbow gear are not just allowed, but highly encouraged.

For many, the day is about far more than physical strength; it’s about visibility, belonging, and reclaiming space in a fitness culture that hasn’t always embraced queer and trans bodies. “It’s an incredible opportunity for beginners and experienced lifters alike to test our PRs and have fun in the process. No prior experience necessary!” organizers emphasize.

The stakes? Raising serious cash for LGBTQ+ nonprofits and mutual aid projects. Over the past three years, Seattle’s Pride Deadlift Party alone has raised over $130,000 for local causes, from Gen Pride to The Lavender Rights Project. This year, they’re aiming even higher—encouraging each lifter to fundraise a dollar per pound lifted. “Ask your friends and colleagues. Utilize those workplace giving programs! Let’s aim to do our part to help support the Greater Seattle LGBTQIA2+ community this Pride season,” organizers urge.

Nashville’s Pride Deadlift Party, meanwhile, sends every dollar of registration fees directly to local organizations like Nashville Launch Pad and Trans Aid Nashville. If finances are a barrier, no worries—sponsor-a-lifter programs ensure nobody is left out over cost.

The impact stretches beyond the fundraising total. For many participants, Pride Deadlift Parties are a rare chance to see themselves reflected in a sport that’s historically been coded as straight, cis, and macho. By centering queer joy and community, these events help deconstruct toxic ideas about who gets to be strong, competitive, or celebrated. “No scales, no weigh-ins, no cutting weight here! Fuel up and lift as you are. The only weight we’re concerned about is the amount of weight lifted on the platform!” organizers remind attendees.

The event’s open format also offers a healing counter-narrative for those who’ve experienced exclusion, harassment, or dysphoria in traditional gym environments. “This is an incredible opportunity for beginners and experienced lifters alike...We will have volunteers who will guide you through the process on the day of the meet and make sure you feel confident and competent once you hit the platform,” reads the FAQ—an explicit rejection of the elitism and anxiety that can haunt fitness spaces for queer and trans folks.

With record turnouts, viral social buzz, and drag queens deadlifting in platform boots, Pride Deadlift Parties are setting a new standard for what queer fitness can look like. They’re not just parties—they’re blueprints for liberation, where every rep is an act of defiance and every cheer is a reminder that LGBTQ+ bodies deserve celebration, on our own terms.

So, next Pride season, don’t be surprised if you see a rainbow bench press or a drag king spotting a first-time lifter. As the movement grows, so does the vision: strength for every body, and a platform big enough for all of us to shine.