09/01/2026
ILW 2026 Saturday Night
Good evening, fellow kinksters. Welcome to ILW 2026.
Whether this is your first ILW or you have been coming here longer than some of us have been legally allowed into a bar, I want you to know something:
I appreciate you being here.
Not just because you bought a ticket.
Not just because you traveled to Iowa.
Not just because you put on the leather, the rubber, the boots, the harness, the gear - or maybe took it all off.
I appreciate you, because you showed up.
And right now, showing up matters.
Being present matters.
Standing beside one another matters.
Because there are moments in history, when simply gathering together becomes an act of resistance.
This is, one of those moments.
ILW or Iowa Leather Weekend, began in 1988, and was born from the leather community, built by people who understood something that I hope we never forget:
Leather is about so much more than, what we wear.
Leather is history.
Leather is family.
Leather is rebellion.
And leather is survival.
The leather community did not grow because society welcomed us with open arms. It grew because people who were rejected by the world, found one-another, and said:
You belong here.
When families turned people away, we created our own.
When institutions shut their doors, we built our own.
When people were dying and much of the world looked the other way, our community showed up.
We cared for one another.
We buried one another.
We fought for one another.
We survived, because we learned that community was never something we simply belonged to. Community was something we did.
And that history matters when we talk about the intersection between the Old Guard and the New Guard.
The Old Guard gave us traditions, protocols, mentorship, responsibility, respect, and a connection to the generations that came before us.
There is enormous value in that.
We should know our history.
We should know whose shoulders we stand on.
We should understand why certain traditions developed, and why they meant so much to the people who created them.
But honoring tradition does not mean, freezing ourselves in time.
The New Guard has challenged us to expand our understanding of who belongs here.
To question rules that became barriers.
To make room for different bodies, different genders, different identities, different expressions, different kinks, and different ways of experiencing leather.
And there is enormous value in that, too.
The answer isn't, Old Guard versus New Guard.
It is, Old Guard with New Guard.
It is, History meeting possibility.
Tradition meeting evolution.
Experience meeting imagination.
The people who protected the flame, teaching the people, who will carry it next.
Because if all we do is guard the door, eventually there will be nobody left inside.
And if all we do is run toward the future without remembering where we came from, we lose the people whose courage made that future possible.
We need both.
We need one another.
And right now, we need one another more than ever.
This past year has reminded ME, and the Saddle family how precious our time together really is.
We lost two Saddle Gurls; Selene Cass and Muffy Rosenberg.
Two incredible people, gone entirely too soon.
There are names that you don't simply remove from a schedule or take off a poster.
There are people whose absence changes the room.
People whose laughter you still expect to hear.
People you still expect to see walking through the door.
And the greatest way we can honor the people we lose, is not simply by remembering that they lived.
It is by carrying forward what they gave us.
The laughter.
The lessons.
The stubbornness.
The outrageousness.
The love.
The community.
So tonight, we remember Selene and Muffy, and we remember every member of this family whose boots no longer walk beside ours. For they are still part of this story.
And speaking of what it means to show up for community, I want to recognize two extraordinary people - our neighbors from the north, Karri and Kurt of Twin Cities Leather.
Thank you.
Thank you for continually standing up for your community during the terror and fear surrounding the war of ICE raids/invasion in Minneapolis.
Thank you for protecting people.
Thank you for helping people.
Thank you for reminding frightened people, that they were not alone.
What you gave your local community - and what people far beyond Minneapolis witnessed - was brave, was compassionate, and powerful.
You ARE a model and a force for hope.
A force for pure goodness.
Proving what Dolly said; “There Are Angels in our Midst”
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You
You reminded every one of us of something incredibly important:
Community is an action word.
Community isn't the logo on your shirt.
It isn't the organization listed in your bio.
It isn't a title.
It isn't a sash.
It isn't a patch on the back of your vest.
Community is what you do when somebody needs you.
It is who you defend.
Who you feed.
Who you shelter.
Who you stand beside.
Who you speak up for when speaking up carries a cost.
That's community.
And I've watched that same lesson play out inside the Blazing Saddle again and again.
I think about the Saddle Gurls.
When we started building what that family would become, people had opinions.
Lord, did people have opinions.
We were told it would never work.
We were told our entertainers hadn't won enough pageants.
They didn't come from the right families.
They didn't have the right names.
They didn't look the part.
They weren't polished enough.
They weren't good enough.
Someone even told me:
"You've got the D Team."
Well... (the D = Do it the Dolly way!). Big Hair, Big T**s, And an Even Bigger Heart.
That “D Team” started changing the world they loved, by loudly living in it, and taking up space.
We were told a bearded queen would make us a mockery.
Then bearded queens went and built national systems.
We were told:
"You can't let a woman do drag."
Well, I hate to be that bitch, but...
People are getting Sigourney Beaver tattooed on their bodies.
I'm just saying - How many people are tattooing your kid's face on themselves?
I'll wait…….. Just me??
And that's why I preach authenticity to every single one of my kids.
Every. Single. One.
Like I had discussed several times with both; Boy Nick, as he prepared to represent us at International Mr. Leather, and DJ Dom on the way to Route 66 Bear.
I quote my personal lord savior Dolly; “Find Out Who Are, and Do It On Purpose!”
And they both represented themselves and this community, beautifully and AUTHENTICALLY.
with Boy Nick proudly reaching the Top 20 at ILM and DJ Dom bringing another national Bear Title home.
Because I don't want my kids to become somebody else's idea of what leather should look like.
Or what drag should look like.
Or what q***r should look like.
Or what masculinity should look like.
Or femininity.
Or kink.
Or family.
I want them to become the fullest, loudest, bravest version, of themselves, because authenticity is powerful.
Yes! Authenticity makes people uncomfortable sometimes. GOOD!
Every generation of q***r people who changed the world made somebody uncomfortable.
The people who came before us weren't fighting for our right to disappear quietly into the background.
They fought so we could exist.
Fully.
Openly.
Proudly.
And differently.
So if you remember nothing else I say tonight, remember this:
Inclusion is not a destination.
We don't get to put a rainbow sticker on the door and declare the work finished.
We don't get to say, "Everyone is welcome," and stop asking who still doesn't feel welcome.
We don't get to celebrate diversity only when that diversity looks familiar, behaves politely, wins the right pageant or contest, comes from the right family, wears the right leather or gear, has the right body, uses the right label, or loves in a way that makes everyone comfortable.
Inclusion is a practice.
It is something we choose over and over again.
Sometimes imperfectly.
Sometimes uncomfortably.
Sometimes while learning that something we have always done needs to change.
And sometimes by admitting that the person standing in front of us knows something we don't.
There are forces outside these walls working every day to divide us.
To frighten us.
To erase us.
To convince us that the leather person isn't q***r enough.
That the drag queen isn't respectable enough.
That the trans person is asking for too much.
That the woman doesn't belong in the leather space.
That the pup is too weird.
That the old guard is outdated.
That the new guard doesn't respect anything.
Divide.
Divide.
Divide.
and, just as the Grasshopper in “A Bug’s Life” spoke, divided people are easier to defeat.
So tonight I want you to do something with me.
Stop. Just for a moment.
Pause. And look around this room.
Really look.
Look at the people.
Look at the leather and gear.
Look at the bodies.
Look at the scars.
Look at the smiles.
Look at the people who have been coming here for thirty years, and the people who finally found the courage to walk through that door tonight for the very first time.
See the beauty.
See the love.
See the power.
See the history.
See the future.
See the fu***ng miracle of all of us being here together.
Because there have always been people who hated when we gathered.
And there is a reason for that.
Our power is in community.
Our power is in gathering.
Our power is in supporting one another.
Our power is in loving one another.
Our power is in laughing together.
Marching together.
Mourning together.
Dancing together.
Building together.
And yes – Fu***ng.
Because this is ILW.
And I'm not standing up here pretending you all came to Iowa for the weather, or because we are “perfect”.
But beneath the leather and the kink and the s*x and the cocktails and everything else we are going to enjoy this weekend is something sacred:
Connection.
The knowledge that somewhere in this world, there are people who understand you.
There are people who will celebrate the parts of you that somebody else told you to hide.
There are people who will make room at the table.
And when necessary - WE WILL BUILD A BIGGER FU***NG TABLE.
That is the legacy we inherited.
And that is the legacy we are responsible for leaving behind.
So this weekend, introduce yourself to someone you don't know.
Listen to an elder.
Encourage somebody younger.
Teach something.
Learn something.
Buy somebody a drink.
Compliment somebody's gear.
Ask before you touch.
Respect a boundary.
Challenge an assumption.
Dance too hard.
Laugh too loudly.
Be kind.
Be curious.
Be outrageous.
Show up for one another.
Because someday someone else will be standing on this stage talking about the people who built their community.
And the names they talk about... just might be yours.
We inherited a community built by people who refused to disappear.
Now it belongs to us. And our job is not simply to preserve it.
Our job is to leave it stronger, kinder, bigger, braver, kinkier, and more inclusive than we found it.
Old Guard.
New Guard.
Leather.
Rubber.
Fe**sh.
Drag.
Q***r.
Trans.
Gay.
Le***an.
Bi.
Nonbinary.
Pups, ponies, bears, boys, daddies, mommies, masters, mistresses, switches, s***s, saints – and ALL the rest…..
You belong here.
And as long as we continue to gather...
As long as we continue to protect one another...
As long as we continue to tell the truth...
As long as we continue to love loudly...
They cannot erase us.
They cannot divide us.
And they sure as hell cannot stop us.
Community is an action word.
Inclusion is a practice.
Leather is survival.
And tonight - we are still here.
Welcome to the family. Welcome home.
And I look forward to seeing you next year.
Thank you.
I will always love you.
❤❤❤Ima
