How many city leaders does it take to resolve the fight over Denny Blaine?
On Tuesday, Seattle Police Chief Shon Barnes, a police lawyer, and Chief Public Safety Officer Natalie Walton-Anderson sat down with District 3 Council Member Joy Hollingsworth, her chief of staff, representatives for Friends of Denny Blaine, and Jaelynn Scott, executive director of Lavender Rights Project, and gave it a shot.
Just maybe, their attempt at a long overdue conversation would help bring an end to this multi-year fight that’s had everything from a privately-funded playground, loud meetings, a lawsuit, and wayward cops.
Sophie Amity Debs with the park stewardship group Friends of Denny Blaine is “cautiously optimistic.” Everyone at the meeting generally seemed on the same page, but she wanted to see what the city, and the cops, actually do next.
“At a bare minimum, we should ideally not have folks arrested at the beach for nudity,” Amity Debs says. “It sounded like there was a commitment to getting a more sane handling of the beach at a city-wide level.”
The city will now dispatch Seattle Park Rangers to calls about “lewd behavior” at the beach instead of police, advocates say, but the city didn’t put that commitment in writing. Both Barnes and Walton-Anderson seemed interested in signs identifying Denny Blaine as clothing-optional, they say.
Though the naked people should make it quite obvious, under Washington state law, indecent exposure is defined as conduct “likely to cause reasonable affront or alarm.” A sign eliminates the chance for surprise and gives beachgoers something to point to if challenged. This idea was raised in mediated talks with the Parks Department last year, but neighbors shot it down.
Chief Barnes also agreed to work on a micro-community policing plan with Friends of Denny Blaine, a department collaboration with Seattle University’s Crime & Justice Research Center that involves data gathering and community engagement.
The sand-kicking over Denny Blaine never seems to end. The meeting came weeks after Seattle Police Officers on a “directed patrol” of the park told everyone naked to put on their clothes. One transgender woman who refused to dress was handed a business card with the word “trespass” written on it and banned from the park for a week. It wasn’t the first time cops had shown up in recent weeks to investigate unfounded claims of lewd activity, beachgoers say, sometimes cruising slowly by on boats.
At a combative public meeting in Leschi less than a week later, Barnes clarified that nudity was “free expression” and legal in Seattle and told the woman, who was at the meeting, she could come back to the beach. Last week, the ACLU of Washington sent a letter to Barnes, congratulating his department’s “swift response to the incident,” but noted that it was part of a larger pattern of enforcement, citing reporting from The Stranger.
“Public nudity is not a crime. The heightened police surveillance of the park is understandably seen by members of the queer and transgender community as a continuation of the violent legacy of policing queer and transgender people and spaces, especially under the guise of public decency,” the letter read.
Last month, a group of neighbors known as Denny Blaine Park for All sued the city for its management of the park, accusing city leaders of letting Denny Blaine fall into the greasy grip of public masturbators. The suit targets nudity as well, alleging the Parks Department is depriving neighbors enjoyment of the park in violation of its code of conduct. Masturbation happens, but beachgoers say the neighbors’ claim is a cartoonish exaggeration.
Denny Blaine Park for All was not at the meeting and did not respond to The Stranger’s request for comment. Council Member Hollingsworth, the Seattle Police Department, and Bruce Harrell’s office did not respond to requests for comment.
Friends of Denny Blaine wants park issues to be handled by park employees who know park dynamics and “park law.” Colleen Kimseylove, who co-runs the group, says it’s perfectly reasonable to call the police when there’s immediate danger or violence. But the status-quo of neighbors calling police when they see masturbation has “factually” not worked. By the time police arrive, the perpetrator is typically long gone, and nothing is accomplished.
“There’s not a change in perception of tolerance for bad behavior, there’s no consequences, the person is not disturbed from their behavior at all. We’d like to see the police department figure out what changes can be made so that police are used accurately and effectively,” Kimseylove says.
Scott said the Lavender Rights Project wants to ensure queer and trans people can “experience joy and a celebration of their queerness without being criminalized.” She found Barnes warm and receptive to their concerns.
“What we’re seeing is really Project 2025 making gains in its own way in our state, and that includes neighborhood groups and community groups,” she says. “This neighborhood group that targets Denny Blaine, it just follows a very disturbing pattern.”
In past statements, Denny Blaine Park for All spokesperson Lee Keller has said its concerns have “nothing to do with the LGBTQ community.”
What Happened At The Beach On May 4th?
By the time Ocean arrived at Denny Blaine, three police officers were clustered around someone lying naked on the grass. Angry, she walked down the concrete staircase to sunbathe, she said in an interview with The Stranger. Before she could settle down near a hedge, another beachgoer said the police were warning people they couldn’t be naked. Ocean, who asked to use a pseudonym to protect her identity, stripped down anyway, thinking that it was “bullshit,” not to mention incorrect.
Dozing in the sun, Ocean heard a passerby say the police were threatening to arrest people. They’re trying to scare us, she replied, and jumped in the water. While drying off on shore, she was approached by Kimseylove, who said that in 10 minutes, police would start arresting or trespassing anyone still naked. So Ocean introduced herself to the clothed person lying next to her and asked if they’d take a friend’s phone number, just in case. She lay back down on her stomach and dozed off again. She heard the officer’s footsteps before the hello and the request with only one acceptable answer.
Ocean asked on what grounds she had to cover herself. Public indecency, the officer replied. Ocean said nudity wasn’t public indecency in Washington. The officer said it was, and so on, until the officer threatened to trespass Ocean, she says, or ban her from the beach. Ocean asked if she was being detained. The officer said absolutely she was. She asked for Ocean’s name, information, and how she identified. (Ocean is a transgender woman.)
“Fuck off, Pork,” she answered. She shouted to beachgoers that the only way the police can get them to comply is if they complied. “Fuck Stuart Sloan,” she added.
The officer handed her a business card with the word “trespass” written on it, along with her badge number, last name and an incident number, and explained that Ocean could be arrested if she came back to the park. The officer said she wouldn’t go back and forth with Ocean, but Ocean could take it to court.
She stood up, put on her clothes and ankle brace. A group tried to intervene. Ocean says she yelled that they shouldn’t waste their time arguing with police. They could resist, or shut up, she said.
In the scramble, Ocean lost the business card. Handing her a new one, the officer said that normally Ocean wouldn’t be allowed back for a year. But she’d make it a week instead.
“You probably think I’m the worst person in the world right now, but next time just come back and wear a bikini,” Ocean recalls the officer saying.
Ocean got in her car and went grocery shopping. Later, she called a friend and cried. But it would be okay, she said, as she was sure the community would win this fight.
“And I still feel that way still,” she says. “That’s been my overwhelming feeling.”
How Did This All Get Started Again?
It’s a long story, or several long stories.
To sum it up, in spring of 2023, Stuart Sloan had had enough of the naked people on the beach next to his house.
He snapped a few photos, obscured the genitals and did what any sensible rich guy with the Mayor’s private cell phone would do: Send the photos with a text message about how “DISGUSTING” it was and how the problem ought to be dealt with before the good weather returned. Harrell promised that Adiam Emery, his then deputy mayor who now directs SDOT, would help.
By summer, there was a plan to build a deterrent in the form of a children's playground. Sloan, the millionaire owner of University Village and a philanthropist who gave $78 million to Fred Hutch Cancer Center in 2022, would foot the bill and anonymously donated $1 million for construction. That June, public records show, Sloan and Emery met at City Hall. Five weeks later, they met at a Starbucks near the beach. Shortly after, Emery and Andy Sheffer, the deputy superintendent of Parks, paid Sloan a visit at home.
The playground plan outraged beachgoers, who organized to stop it. After a packed, thunderous public meeting with Parks, the city scrapped the project. The day after, a Saturday no less, Harrell met with Sloan. Harrell maintains that he never knew the identity of the donor.
All was relatively quiet on the naked beach for more than a year before the suit and police missteps.
