Mercer Sounds the Alarm: Project Garrison Exposed as PrideFest Becomes Operation Mirrorball
As PrideFest transforms into a full-blown movement, Representative Mercer shares the first terrifying details of Project Garrison, triggering an urgent call to action.
By Jax Rowe
Published: July 1, 2025 — 1:12 PM CST
The mood at PrideFest took a sharp turn Tuesday morning.
What began as a calm, reflective start to the day quickly became electric with anxiety and purpose when Representative Joshua Lane Mercer confirmed that the rumors were true: PrideFest is no longer just a celebration—it’s now the headquarters for a national resistance known as Operation Mirrorball.
Word spread rapidly that Mercer, after being summoned back to the capital over the weekend, had returned with internal documents—documents revealing the disturbing heart of “Project Garrison.” That name, whispered since Day 4 of the festival, was no longer a rumor. It was real, and it was embedded inside the Big Bold Bill quietly circulating through committee sessions in Dominion.
📜 What We Know About Project Garrison So Far
Though full details are expected later tonight, Mercer previewed what he called “the most aggressive rollback of civil rights in a generation.” In a closed-door early morning debriefing with festival leaders, he outlined five key provisions he had seen with his own eyes:
Total federal defunding of all Pride-related events, nonprofits, and media, even those not receiving direct government aid.
Mandated surveillance protocols for public school libraries and event permits, aimed at flagging “non-traditional messaging.”
A new federal agency—the “Office of American Virtue”—tasked with evaluating local events and flagging those deemed “culturally corrosive.”
Monthly morality audits for educators and public employees, where affiliation with LGBTQ+ organizations could lead to termination.
And perhaps most chilling: a clause that authorizes the suspension of habeas corpus for individuals “actively organizing subversive social movements.”
“This isn’t just political,” Mercer reportedly said during the morning session. “It’s pathological. They’re not trying to win votes—they’re trying to unmake the country.”
By midmorning, the main walkways at PrideFest were humming with hushed conversations. Festival maps were updated with “Resistance Resource” markers where attendees could get the latest verified information, legal advice, and digital toolkits for grassroots lobbying.
The main stage paused musical performances out of respect for the rising tension. Instead, activists took turns delivering urgent updates and organizing breakout sessions in nearby shade tents. One such tent filled up in under 15 minutes with parents desperate to understand how to protect their LGBTQ+ children if this bill passes.
🧠 Operation Mirrorball Becomes the Mission
The renaming of PrideFest to Operation Mirrorball was met with both reverence and fire.
It was drag queen and festival emcee Miss Edie Vice who first coined the term on Day 6, but now the name has become official across all festival materials, including on social media. “A mirrorball reflects every light it touches,” Edie explained from the stage early this morning. “And baby, they can’t block all our light unless they shatter every single shard of us. But we spin, we shine, and we endure.”
Everywhere you looked, signs were going up bearing the new emblem of the movement: a shimmering disco ball split down the middle, one side bright with color, the other side under shadow.
🧠 Attendee Reactions
For many, today felt like a breaking point.
“I’m exhausted,” said Kalie Harnett, who’s helped manage the health clinic throughout the festival. “I’ve seen people in tears every day—healing from family rejection, financial precarity, trauma. We are the very people they want to erase. But we’re also the ones who keep showing up.”
Others responded with determination. Vendors handed out makeshift flyers with Mercer’s talking points. Booths offering voter registration saw their busiest stretch yet. Local musicians held a spontaneous acoustic jam near the south lawn while community leaders answered questions under the rainbow archway.
Even the drag queens—many of whom had performed with joy just days earlier—shifted into action. They coordinated safe zones, offered translation support, and prepped statements to be read aloud in tonight’s anticipated livestream.
And for first-time PrideFest goers, the experience became even more personal.
“I came here for joy,” said 19-year-old Julian Ruiz from Illinois. “Now I’m staying for the war they just declared on us.”