Photos: Scream Club KC shouts back into the void

At 6:45 p.m. on August 3, dozens of people gathered to scream at the Missouri River.

Scream Club Kansas City held its first event on the Berkeley Riverfront this past Sunday, and it was a rousing success. The club encouraged attendees to scream in unison to release both their pent-up frustration and joy.

Thea Brannon and Ashleigh Foster, the founders of Scream Club Kansas City, met just days ago on social media. Inspired by the Scream Club in Chicago- which has gone viral on TikTok- they conspired to bring catharsis and community to Kansas City.

Foster said that after seeing videos of Scream Club Chicago, she realized inspiring efforts on social media didn’t have to remain distant.

“I was like, I need to go to Chicago. And then I was like, no, we need to do this in Kansas City,” she said.

Brannon advertised the event on Facebook and TikTok, and in just a few days it gathered traction of its own. On TikTok, over 2,000 people liked or commented their intentions to join the club.

While some resolved early to attend the event, others wandered in from other riverfront activities to get in on the noise. Attendees’ comfort with the act of screaming itself varied, too.

Alice Crist is a scream actor, and expressed that she’s a “big screamer”.

“Sometimes I’m driving in my car and I’ll just scream. It feels good, it’s a big release,” she said.

Crist’s boyfriend Kyler Kuecker, on the other hand, confessed, “I’m pretty reserved, so I don’t know if I’m gonna do it, but if she wants me to, I’ll do it.”

Even Brannon herself shared this sentiment, “Secret’s out of the bag, I actually don’t scream. I obviously will today, and I’m so excited.”

Before heading down to the river, attendees were encouraged to write out the positive (and negative) reasons they showed up to scream.

Carleigh Ayode simply wrote, “F*ck Trump.” Theo Ayode and Oliver Ayode, accompanying Carleigh, respectively, noted their hopes for a good year in kindergarten and a good fourth-grade teacher.

Political sentiments were common among attendees.

“I’m mad as hell, and I know [politicians] want to scare us into being quiet, but it’s just making me want to be even louder. Angrier. I think that’s what they don’t realize, that they’re forcing us to get more involved in our local communities rather than being separate like we have been for so long,” said Stephanie Billen.

The group made its way down to the river around 7:15 p.m., and after a few rounds of collective, guttural screams, Brannon and Foster then read out the notes attendees had written out to applause from the group.

The notes included triumphs such as “cancer biopsy came back negative”, “I’m a great doula”, and “I had the courage to get out of bed for this beautiful event”.

Brannon and Foster have resolved to keep Scream Club alive, meeting every Sunday at 6:45.

They also raised the idea of using such high turnouts to organize canned food drives and similar community efforts.

“I really think that if we can keep this going here, this is a great place for community to grow,” said Foster.

As the club dispersed for the evening, the sunset peeked through a thick sheet of clouds over the river, casting a rainbow.