Tattooed, Tested, and Touring: Lollapalooza

Four days.703 swabs. One sunburned, scrappy, badass team.

Lollapalooza 2025 hit hard. And so did we.

We rolled into Grant Park with Punk Rock Saves Lives, knowing things were gonna look a little different this year...but still fired up to do what we do best: build community, spark real conversations, and grow the bone marrow registry one person at a time. It’s what we’ve done for over a decade at Lollapalooza - first under Love Hope Strength, and now as PRSL. The mission hasn’t changed. We’ve always been here to save lives one concert at a time.

But this year hit different.

Due to event restrictions, we weren’t allowed to bring in our harm reduction supplies. No fentanyl test strips. No Narcan. No Plan B. None of the things we normally carry with pride, with urgency, with love. These tools are part of our DNA. They're how we meet people exactly where they are - with compassion and zero judgment.

So yeah, walking in without them? It felt like showing up to a knife fight in a tank top. Like going to war without your armor. And if I’m being real - it hurt. We felt it. But we didn’t let it stop us.

So, we leaned in. We doubled down on what we could do: swabbing for the bone marrow registry. Talking about saving lives. Connecting with strangers who didn’t know us but somehow got it. And the result?

703 people joined the bone marrow registry. Let that number sink in.

That’s not a metric. That’s potential. That’s hope. That’s someone out there, maybe even right now, who will match and become the reason someone else lives to see another birthday, another concert, another tomorrow. If you know the odds - 1 in 500 - that means we likely found a match this weekend. That’s fucking huge.

We had people come up and say, “I’m alive because someone like you did this.” We had people say, “I lost my brother… and I want to help someone else’s.” And then we had people who didn’t know what the hell we were doing… but stuck around long enough to care.

That’s the magic of this work. It’s messy. It's sweaty. It’s never predictable. And still people show up. We show up.

Even stripped down to the basics, we found ways to care. We handed out earplugs...tiny things, right? But people were grateful. Hearing protection in a sea of noise matters. Every small act matters. Because it says: we give a shit about you.

And speaking of giving a shit...this team.They showed the hell up.

We made sure to enjoy every single moment of working the tent.

We were small in numbers this year, but it didn’t feel that way. They pulled people in nonstop, kept the paperwork tight, made strangers feel seen. They kept things running when my body said, “you’re done today.” I had to leave early the first day. My stomach was wrecked. And yeah, I beat myself up for that because I hate missing a second of this. But my team? They didn’t just cover for me. They carried it. They carried me. That’s the kind of crew we’ve built. That’s what community looks like. I am so thankful for what we keep creating everyday.

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect. But damn, it was worth it.

Lolla reminded me that this work still matters. That even when the world feels loud and chaotic and cracked at the edges, people will still stop. Still listen. Still choose to give part of themselves to help a stranger.

So to the volunteers who kept grinding even when the sun was unforgiving...thank you. You’re the heart of this.

To every single person who swabbed, danced by the booth, shared a story, or just took a moment to see us—thank you. You reminded me why we keep going. Why we fight. Why we give a damn.

Chicago, we’ll be back. Because saving lives doesn’t wait. And neither do we.

XOXO,

Tina

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Best band I was able to see at Lollapalooza was Otoboke Beaver. Check them out.

https://www.otobokebeaver.com/