San Francisco Day
A Celebration that Displacement Can’t Remove the Soul
Not a single cloud muddled the bright, blue skies that set the uplifting mood on April 15, 2016. Beneath the feet of people lay the luscious, emerald grass of Dolores Park, recently renovated to include new restrooms and pathways. People of all sorts of ethnic and economical background decorated the park grounds; relaxing, chatting, simply enjoying a San Francisco midday. It was 4 o’ clock when people grouped together exponentially. They began to lay down large cloth posters of people killed due to police brutality. One such poster displayed Alex Nieto in the stark contrast of a black portrait against a white background. The contrast itself could speak a thousand words about what’s going on in San Francisco.
Fifteen minutes later, feet shuffled against the soft turf creating a circle of green surrounded by a sea of curious onlookers. A small group of Danzantes, the Concheros dancers, decorated in traditional garments stepped forward, grabbing the attention of the surrounding people. They donned beautiful headdresses adorned with far-reaching feathers. Blue-jay blue, sun yellow, succulent orange and glinting gold were just a few of the colors worn by the dancers. Copal, a pine tree sap resin traditionally from Mexico, was lit with a small flame. It’s use was to cleanse the area, accenting the gratuitous blessing to the ancestors. A light smell hinting of fresh cut pine leaves, wafted through the air, carried along by the white smoke that danced around them. It smelled of the wondrous Aztec roots, genetically pulsating through the participants. The dancers were blessing the sacred Ohlone land that lie beneath the feet of everyone there. The hallowed-out chachayot nuts hugging the bottom of their legs frolicked around in jubilance, accenting the rhythms produced by the dancers as they performed their prayers, blessing the historical land.
To say the very least, this San Francisco Day celebration started off with such cultural appreciation that it caught many people’s gaze. It’s called the San Francisco Day celebration because of the main area code for phone numbers in San Francisco, 4–1–5. After the blessing ceremony, voices of the people organizing the event rung out through the crowd from an amplifier, exalting the reasoning behind the social gathering; presentation of power. Power is often a word that can be associated with having some sort of negativity, assuming that others are functionless or have less potential. This gathering was about everything but asserting dominance or alienating others. It was about acknowledging the power of marginalized people in the Bay Area. The positive and welcoming manner was apparent to all those ready to enjoy the culture, identify the needs and respect the desire of the quickly changing communities around them.
Equipto (Ilych Sato), a local Hip Hop artist, grabbed the mic, declaring statements of pride for the native San Francisco residents, inviting them to enjoy their day out. A plethora of ethnicites were covered in San Francisco trademarked shirts, some representing specific neighborhoods like The Mission. They stretched out amongst each other in a multitude of small groups of black and orange. Some lying on the ground, some standing about and others circled around the boisterous amplifier in the middle, dancing to popular Bay Area music.
Right beside the dance collective was a table with a gorgeous arrangement of fruits, delicious baked goods and water delightfully infused with cucumbers and orange slices. Nancy Pilla and PODER, a grassroots community organization, helped donate the goods for the event. Being Mission based, PODER showed their support for the event and drew positive attention for their group that addresses gentrification, food systems and the excessive amount of food deserts that plague a multitude of communities.
PODER was one of the many organizations present but the day was not to celebrate all of the differences in the groups but rather to solidify similarities.
“Officially, in this space, we’re just here under the name of San Francisco, under the name of solidarity forever,” proclaimed Ahkeel Mestayer, from Glen Park. Mestayer was a 20 year-old media representative of the celebration. He stated that the gathering had only been planned for two weeks. In that time, flyers had been made, the Danzantes had been gathered, news of the event spread like culture wildfire upon the lips of students, artists and activists alike.
“All my friends that I told ‘Hey man we’d be out here’ said, ‘Man, we gotta do this every year!”
As Mestayer was saying this, you could see the passion of community in his eyes. The smooth-brown pupils surveyed the people around him. A smile ever present, tickling the corners of his lips. He was decorated in the traditional black and orange of the San Francisco Giants. Empowerment was gleaming like the warm rays of an afternoon sunset from the souls of everyone gathered. Comforting, wrinkled hands clasped gently onto the silky, delicate hands of babes as they shimmed, walked and played together. The general consensus was delight in the idea of this being an annual celebration.
“We wanted something a little different from protesting and more light and fun, so we’re just going to bring the culture back to San Francisco,” says Deja Caldwell, smiling as brightly as the hope that vibrated through the masses. Caldwell, a 27 year-old organizer helped spread the news of the event via social media which included tweeting and Facebook Event invites. Her long, dark braids swung confidently beneath a high ponytail, resting on her black San Francisco Giant’s shirt. The crowd enjoyed the calm and endearing approach that this event took versus what could be considered ‘typical’ of a demonstration. It effectively drew the attention of many all over the space, causing some to join the party. A protest could have alienated the group from onlookers and in this crucial time of neighborhood development, a different approach is well needed and appreciated.
Despite the positivity soaring through the plentiful bodies at the event, despite the smiles, handshakes and hugs, there was still the underlying issue of bringing ‘the culture back to San Francisco.’ The Mission continues to evolve rapidly. Any person could wander from a block thats been overtly sterilized with high-price boutiques to another block colorfully painted with family-owned stores boldly displaying their fruits outside with both english and spanish written upon their yellow placards. Even the very streets people walk on have changed, including decorating the grates surrounding the trees with dancing Dia de los Muertos skeletons.
“They took a very significant symbol of our culture and put it down as a reminder of what used to be. But basically, it’s for show. It’s for the new people to come say, ‘Aw, look how cool! A dancing skeleton!’ But they don’t understand the meaning behind it… It doesn’t surprise me that the city would do something like that,” sighs Mestayer. Why would he be surprised? The city of San Francisco has an unfortunate history in blanketing culture underneath the stifling wool of supremacy masked in conformity. Even well-meaning non-profits, such as IDEX (International Exchange Development) that currently sits in the heart of the Mission on Valencia are being forced to reconsider their residence due to the climbing prices of rent while more shops, stores, boutiques and high-end restaurants fill the area. Long-time businesses are closing and families are fleeing the area, some seeking solace in the East Bay. These changes are happening rapidly, removing the antique, historic and soulful culture embedded in the history of where they stand. The Ohlone people who once owned these rolling, fertile hills were massacred and buried underneath the alluring Dolores Park and surrounding areas in the Bay. In the late 18th century, Spanish missionaries caused the death of over 60,000 Ohlone peoples. These atrocities happened above the ground that the Danzantes used to summon ancient beats upon the grass stalks that slid between their toes.
“For a lot of us, this is one of the first places that we danced. We’ve been having ceremonies here, ever since I can remember. I would say… 40 years, maybe? Since the early eighties,” Teresa Almaguer huffed.
“One of the unfortunate things about gentrification and displacement is that, because of the new popularity by the new folks in the city coming to this park, we’re unable to get permits to hold the sacred ceremonies that we’ve been holding here [for] 40 plus years.”
Almaguer spoke from her heart. The 40 year-old Danzante gently caressed her aqua blue and bright orange headdress as she spoke, uttering dismay at the blossoming of new and unwelcome rules to the park. Almaguer seemed to know everyone around her. People were greeting her left and right. Some reached down to embrace her and others stopped mid sentence just to exchange friendly words, eager to be in her presence. She sat down upon a blanket which lie beneath her friends’ shoes, purses and other material needs that were shed upon arriving at the party. Ridding their ties to the corporate world that continued to surround them in order to better submerge themselves in the moment.
From all corners of the park, people were drawn into the majestic beats of Bay Area music, hinting at House and Funkadelic roots. Those who didn’t have sunglasses or hats simply used their straightened hand for a make-shift visor in order combat the steadily reddening sun. Bass drops shook the hills and a group of all ages gathered in the middle, forming a pit of happiness and support through the commonality. They began to dance in unison, hand to shoulder, waist to waist. Their bodies were integrated into the beat, random yells of joy were heard and grinning faces were seen all around.
“Support the city, man. We’re bringing the city back!” A loud voice yelled out over a speaker, calling attention to the meaning of why they were there. The young and the old. The new and the long-term. The black, brown, white, red, yellow and everything in between. All were here for the purpose of community and recognition. They didn’t want a fight, they didn’t want struggle. They wanted their community back to when the culture wasn’t drowning beneath the waves of a rapidly adjusting environment. To provide safer streets in a neighborhood is one thing but to remove long-standing residents and businesses is another. The victims of police brutality stared up from their white canvases, demanding justice in a time of civil unrest that mirrored the displacement happening around them.
By the looks on everyone’s faces, the idea to start an annual event on the day of April the 15th seemed to be one of the best ideas. It communicated issues in a positive manner, welcomed people of all color and creed but actively pursued the issues at hand. Voices rung out, calling for the removal of Mayor Lee from office. They cried out, asking for justice from the Chief of Police, Greg Suhr. Others called for activism from the new companies, especially in the result of the 22 million dollar tax break that Twitter received from the city of San Francisco in 2011.
“Why don’t [they] say, ‘Hey 22 million dollars, there’s a vacant spot of land!’ Why don’t [they] tell the city to use their Imminent Domain, take the land and [they] build a house, build a housing center,” exclaimed Mestayer. He tucked his hands in his pants as he iterated his thoughts. He brought up the idea of large tech companies giving the high schools in the surrounding areas, such as Mission High, money for a coding program which would prepare the youth for the industry that was booming around them. With people like him willing to talk about solutions, gatherings like these will only work to better the transforming community. Although some natives feel like the neighborhoods are too far gone to ever be restored to its originality, the hope that twinkled in everyone’s eyes, that vibrated from every soul was loud and clear.
“We are not invisible.”
As he exhaled that statement, Mestayer looked around admiring the crowd. That’s what the groups, organizations, people want. To reaffirm that they are everything but invisible. They are a force to be reckoned with. They are a love to be reckoned with. They are a community that hangs on tighter than the city can push them out. As the sun set and people began to diminish as softly as the cool air swept in, the energy of simply existing had permeated the soil. The first annual San Francisco Day celebration had ended but something far bigger had begun. The ancestors beneath their dancing feet would be proud.
