When President Donald Trump got reelected in 2024, JoJo Ruby was not pleased.
“I was feeling really isolated and lonely and unsure where my place in the revolution was as a clown,” she said.
Then she thought, as revolutionaries so often do: “I think I need to start a parade.”
Ruby’s dream became a reality last April when she organized for hundreds of clowns to take over Southeast Hawthorne Boulevard. They marched with signs carrying defiant messages like, “Don’t read this sign!”
Speaking to The Oregonian/OregonLive from the center of the second annual clown festival in the moments before marching, Ruby, 34, said the movement has grown steadily ever since. There are now clown picnics in Laurelhurst Park every first Sunday of the month and a clown bike ride — organized with the World Naked Bike Ride team — is planned for August.
All of it is in protest of Trump, in general, she said, and the federal immigration crackdown, specifically.
“We’re clorganizing,” said Ruby, whose clown name is Raggs. “All clowns welcome.”
Anyone who is not a clown, or doesn’t think they are, can come too, Ruby said. A quick stop through the clownification tent would do the trick.
Most of the couple hundred people at the clown party on Saturday said they were already clowns when they arrived, though there was a distinct variation in the level of planning that seemed to have gone into the various costumes. Two men were spotted in regular old jeans and tees topped off with curly rainbow wigs. Several people who looked primarily like moms watching small children, wore red noses. Others had gone all out.
Summer Robinson and Phoenix Butterfield, both 11, had carefully sourced their costumes from hand-me-downs, Amazon and Temu.
“I kind of want to go with, like, the abandoned circus clown look,” said Summer, who was wearing at least five rainbow-colored items, including an amazingly bright tie-dye shirt.
Phoenix said she preferred the black-and-white clown style often associated with traditional Harlequin clowns out of 16th century Italy. For a modern touch she’d added some horror elements, including fake blood dripping down her front.
“It’s a person’s choice,” Phoenix said when asked what makes someone a clown. “It can be anything — funny, scary, sad.”
Hugo Gustafson, 18, a graphic design student at Portland State University had gone the funny route. He was decked out in full face paint, a striped shirt of many colors and what looked like workman’s pants, complete with a hammer loop, but in multicolored patches.
“We have a bit of generational talent that comes with it,” he said of his family’s longstanding clowning traditions.
Did he have a clown talent? “Oh yeah!” Gustafson ran to grab his unicycle.
His friend, Solomon Sledge, 18, was far more sedate in his clowniness, as befits a young man majoring in engineering. But his enthusiasm for the day was just as colorful as Gustafson’s pants.
“Really, the attitude makes you a clown,” Sledge said. “If you’re down to be silly, down to have a fun time … being extroverted, being jumpy, being bouncy — I think those things make you a really good clown.”
Bimby Balloona, also known as Ariann Ramsy from Bend, had shown up with a pink pole. She spun around the pole in a way that made it look like she was walking on air, then she turned upside down while continuing to spin. She let others try out the pole themselves, leading to a steady stream of less accomplished, but just as joyful, pole dancers.
Ramsy, 24, said she was there with her friend, Becky, for similar reasons.
“The world needs a little more joy out there, so I’m here to help spread a little bit of it,” Ramsy said. “Whimsy and being in touch with your inner child is all it takes to be a clown.”
Becky, a sock puppet, just squeaked, presumably in agreement.
Patrick Connell, 49, was in town from his home in Massachusetts. He was visiting friends who lived in Lake Oswego and said he’d never really planned to be a clown, he’d had clowning thrust upon him.
“I was born with huge feet and forced to wear clown shoes,” he said. “I just went with it.”
Standing before the crowd just before they headed out of Laurelhurst Park, Ruby said it would not be the last march of the clowns.
“We will keep finding ridiculous ways to disrupt the status quo,” she said to cheers, clapping and the high-pitched buzz of many kazoos.
Anyone wanting to attend the next clowntastic event can follow @theaprilfools on Instagram for more information.
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