It isn’t news that rising rents have pushed many marginalized communities out of San Francisco. For queer people who have been feeling increasingly less welcome in the Mission, the Lexington’s recent closing announcement didn’t come as a surprise. Last month, owner Lila Thirkield broke the news that the iconic lesbian bar would be shutting its doors for good in 2015, citing the lack of queer women left in the neighborhood as one of her reasons for the decision. With most of San Francisco’s gay bars catering to men, the Lex has given queer women and trans folks visibility as gentrification alters the city’s landscape. The lack of spaces designated specifically for the these communities, especially communities of color, has many people disenchanted with San Francisco’s queer scene on the whole.
Many of the queer women who have left the Mission, along with pretty much anyone who hasn’t secured an awesome deal on rent or a hefty paycheck, have flocked to Oakland. As a bisexual person and longtime East Bay resident, most of the events on my weekend itinerary no longer require a trans-bay commute. While Oakland doesn’t have a specifically female-centric bar (or too many gay clubs, for that matter), its racially diverse, tight-knit, and politically radical queer scene offers more inclusive events for the lady-loving lot.
“Something I’ve seen change a lot is the visibility [of queer women] in the Mission. In the past few years, it’s become more heteronormative because there’s a certain class of people who can afford to live there,” said Jaqi Sparro, a DJ and East Bay native who recently relocated to Oakland after spending 10 years in San Francisco. “As a queer DJ and person of color, I feel more compelled to go to East Bay queer events because it feels like community is being created, rather than queer culture being consumed by outsiders who are there for the spectacle.”
“As a queer DJ and person of color, I feel more compelled to go to East Bay queer events because it feels like community is being created, rather than queer culture being consumed by outsiders who are there for the spectacle.”
Sparro’s observations echo a growing sentiment among party promoters and activists working to ensure that people of color don’t get pushed out of the queer scene – or the town itself – amid Oakland’s rampant rent hikes and evictions. The monthly party Ships in the Night, at which Sparro occasionally performs, posted a controversial open letter on its Facebook page last February asking straight allies to consider not attending the party and for white queers to be conscientious about taking up space onstage.
The letter was a divisive move, but some considered it necessary. Many black and brown promoters, DJs, and artists have shaped Oakland’s queer scene over the years. As the percentage of white newcomers increases and Oakland’s African American population declines, some fear that Oakland’s queer parties will begin to resemble the city’s more homogenous LGBT events.
“The promoters from Ships in the Night try to create environments where queer people of color can go and feel connected,” said Lorna Albarillo, who performs as DJ Motive in both Oakland and San Francisco. “I know many queers of color that do not and will not go to San Francisco parties because they don’t feel like it’s for them.”
With one-off events making up the bulk of queer nightlife in Oakland, Sparro pointed out that it’s easier to keep parties intended specifically for queer women under the radar so they can reach their niche target audiences. Permanent venues like the Lexington, she said, can attract voyeurs who aren’t tied to the community. When too many straight allies attend, parties can lose their queerness, as many have observed in more mainstream gay spaces like the Castro and the San Francisco Pride Parade.
Many black and brown promoters, DJs, and artists have shaped Oakland’s queer scene over the years. As the percentage of white newcomers increases and Oakland’s African American population declines, some fear that Oakland’s queer parties will begin to resemble the city’s more homogenous LGBT events.
Promoter Chaney Turner, who founded Social Life Productions in 2006, explained that Oakland’s lack of gay clubs has made its party throwers more adept at dealing with socioeconomic changes. Various club owners have been open to hosting Turner’s parties because events targeting queer women bring a vast and loyal following, she said in a phone interview. As a result, queer nightlife has been able to thrive even as the Bay Area’s competitive real estate market drives some clubs out of business.
This unpredictable climate has inspired others to seek out alternative event spaces like the Living Room Project, an interdisciplinary, DIY event space for queer and trans people of color in West Oakland.
“I always think it’s important for party organizers and DJs to stay connected to who their audience is and make sure that they are continuing to create that space,” said Micah Hobbes Frazier, the Living Room Project’s founder, who frequently performs as DJ Trinity. “Things grow, change, and evolve, and if what we are doing is no longer connected to our intention, then it’s time to take a look at that. For me, it’s not about ‘diversity.’ It’s about how we make sure that the folks that have always been here don’t get pushed out, whether it’s a party or their homes.”
While nightlife has been instrumental in providing spaces for queer women to network, Oakland’s multifaceted scene also encompasses art shows, lectures, zine fests, dance classes, and alternative healing workshops, many of which take place at queer-owned small businesses.
While nightlife has been instrumental in providing spaces for queer women to network, Oakland’s multifaceted scene also encompasses art shows, lectures, zine fests, dance classes, and alternative healing workshops, many of which take place at queer-owned small businesses. Still, Frazier, who goes by both male and female pronouns, said that he sees the lack of queer clubs and venues as a setback. But with Oakland boasting the nation’s largest concentration of female couples, many queer women have become community leaders through other types of business ventures and their involvement in local politics.
Alyah Baker, the owner of the downtown Oakland boutique Show and Tell Concept Shop, sees businesses owned by queer women as vital to keeping the community strong. “Sure, we might have the occasional dance party,” said Baker. “But queer women in Oakland are supporting each other’s businesses in day-to-day life, and that’s what feels like true community.” She cited Peggy Moore, Oakland mayor-elect Libby Schaaf’s campaign manager, and Diane Pfile and Ruth Villasenor of the Dimond District pet store Paws & Claws as queer female leaders she admires.
The Lexington’s doors are currently still open, and many San Francisco queer parties, like Hard French and Swagger Like Us, are still going strong. But as more venues close to make space for condos, it’s likely that Oakland’s queer scene will continue to absorb San Francisco’s displaced former residents. What this will do to Oakland’s existing LGBT community is not yet clear, but queer business owners, performers, and promoters are committed to making themselves heard as economic forces reshape Oakland, for better or for worse.
“I love that Oakland’s queer and trans scene, especially its queer and trans people of color scene, is incredibly resilient,” said Frazier. “No matter what, we can always imagine something positive for the future and tap into our creativity and abundant resources to get us there.”
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Photo of San Cha performing at Ships in the Night by Lala Openi/@openiiiiiiiii