In Scenester, we spotlight the coolest shows, parties, and events in the City and beyond. It's like you're there, but you don't even have to get dressed. Want us to stop by? Contact Joshua at joshua@gazetteer.co.
At El Rio Saturday, the local drag artist and activist Mama Ganuush is holding court, weaving and bobbing around the crowd at Pink Wash — a new-ish day party that doubles as a fundraiser for Palestinian causes and a model for other community-oriented parties.
Mama Ganuush told Gazetteer SF that they envisioned Pink Wash as sort of a utopian celebration: One where performers are paid what they deserve, where proceeds go to causes that matter, and where parties aren’t hosted by NGOs or big-name promoters — it’s a party for the people, by the people. Hence Pink Wash’s unapologetic subtitle: “The Comrades’ Dance Party.”
That ideal extends to the cost of entry: Pink Wash uses a sliding-scale donation system, though the recommended donation is $10. Palestinian people get in for free, as do indigenous people, but no one is turned away for lack of funds. (Around 70% of people pay, they tell me.) Proceeds for the party will go to Bay → Gaza Mutual Aid Collective; at the inaugural party, funds were sent to a bail fund for 78 activists who protested at the Bay Bridge.
“Our parties need to be accessible for all the community, not just the queer community, but all the community,” they tell me. “This is run by queer and trans people, but this is for everyone.”
“Everything we do is really,” Mama Ganuush adds, before self-interjecting, “I’m serious, it sounds ridiculous, but everything we do is very well thought-out. And that's what should be the standard.”
El Rio has offered the space up for Pink Wash at no cost. Whether the party remains a pop-up party or becomes a permanent fixture at El Rio is still unclear, but Mama Ganuush is glad that El Rio has offered up the space for Pink Wash twice — an example of a neighborhood institution being a part of the community, they say.
The party’s name comes from the concept of “pinkwashing” — the idea that corporations and politicos support LGBT causes in order to secure political or financial gain, while causing harm in other ways. Mama Ganuush has been an outspoken voice against “pinkwashing,” last year lambasting San Francisco Pride for its choice of sponsors and celebrity grand marshal; they also called out other party-throwing institutions for poorly paying drag performers and other talent in our conversation. The party's name is a reclamation of sorts, a rejection of pinkwashing and other types of disingenuous support in queer spaces.
It’s a tall order, you can imagine, to infuse a day party with a lofty mission statement. But Pink Wash made it look easy. A hundred-strong mix of people — El Rio regulars, activists young and old, locals simply looking for a grand queer time, and one adorable, floppy-eared dog with a bandana — had descended in the bar’s back patio. The radical direct action group Gay Shame had a table with reading materials. A steady mix of house and techno blared from the speakers; no pop music here, save for one Charli xcx needle drop. The drag artist Tongo Lele, who was the MC for the evening, took a beat early in the party to shout out the fact that all the go-go dancers and DJs were getting paid fairly.
“We’re going to have full-bodied women, trans fem women with big boobs and big booties,” Mama Ganuush said. “Our DJs are trans people and people who are considered not very welcome, or maybe too much in your face for other places.”
Matthew Lawson was photographing the affair, working behind-the-scenes after being charmed by the first Pink Wash and its welcome embrace of all kinds of partygoers.
“It was just so fun,” Lawson said. “It was the most diverse and eclectic group of all types.”
The folks I spoke to were here for entirely different reasons: San Francisco residents Maya Hernandez, 24, and Shunnely Rua, 26, arrived together, looking for a queer space to celebrate International Women’s Day. That it was sunny was a bonus.
“It's so good to be uplifted,” Hernandez told me. “It’s very diverse and good on a gorgeous day to have a space—“
Rua interjected: “To dance!”
Meanwhile, 27-year-old San Leandro resident Alexis “Figgy” Figueroa was looking for a place “where the bad bitches are twerking.” He saw the party advertised on Scruff, the gay hookup app, and decided to show out dressed in a sheer black top. He also had a separate outfit in his backpack for the evening’s fashion show — themed to a Y2K-cyberpunk-y aesthetic.
Within minutes, I met a 68-year-old anti-war activist named Leslie Angeline, who trekked to El Rio from Sausalito. She had heard about the party after meeting Mama Ganuush in an activist group. She had on a keffiyeh and a warm coat. A watermelon earring hung on her left ear; a classic peace sign hung on her right.
I asked her what she thought of the party. “I’m a straight woman, an elder, and I’m here for this expression of love and kindness,” Angeline said. Later, I see Angeline cutting up the dance floor with the best of them.
