Gayranimal Kingdom

The Castro is aflame with controversy. Tourist buses have discovered the Castro. The native gays are not happy about it.

The Ungay disembark like zombies, gawk at the gays holding hands as though they are zoo animals, take a few pics, and don't bother to spend any money. Further, they feel compelled to hold hands with persons of the opposite sex to demonstrate that they are heterosexual.

The gays are not having this. The normally ultra-friendly San Francisco vibe is strained. No one wants the already crowded sidewalks clogged with tourists who mill about and block the way.

We like to keep the bulk of them where they belong - safely tucked away from the natives in places such as the Wharf, Chinatown (Grant Street only, please) and, if they must, Union Square. Besides, we have sidewalk blockers already - our local homeless "vendors".

Of course, tourists who act respectfully and spend a little money in the neighborhood are always welcome. Just not bus loads full of the other kind.

The neighborhood has petitioned the city to remove the one "Coach" parking area removed. Unfortunately, that will take three months to get the zone change made and posted.

In the meantime, the community is considering self-help. There are calls for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence to take the matter into their capable hands. There is not a camera-wielding tourist who has the resolve to take on a six-foot drag queen nun on a rampage. (Sister Roma pictured.)

Although I suspect that may make them just take more pictures.

Love Transcends All

It was fairly certain that with something as big as legalized same-sex marriage rights recognized today by the California Supreme Court, that the Castro would erupt into an impromptu party. That's how we roll.

The block on Castro between Market and 18th Street were cordoned off and a stage set up.

Speeches were given that received cheers that reverberated into the surrounding neighborhood.



When the speeches were finished, a d.j. started some techno spinning and the crowd danced and milled around until late into the evening.



The only downside are all the media helicopters still flying around noisily at 11:30 p.m. It sounds like a war zone.

Despite the noise, it's hard to imagine this happening anywhere else tonight in quite this intimate or peaceable a manner.

We're one large family. Tonight, we celebrate the right to have that fact recognized by our state.

It is the sort of thing that the Castro can do that the Village in NYC and WeHo in LA can't quite duplicate.

To think: The fight for equality in California started with Harvey Milk in San Francisco, was prodded by Mayor Gavin Newsom in San Francisco in 2004 and was decided by the California Supreme Court in San Francisco. It is very much a San Francisco story.

The Mayor of Castro Street would be so proud of all that has been accomplished since he won his election in 1977 and died for the cause in 1978. We completed the fight in California 31 years after his historic win as the first openly gay elected official in the world.

This one is for you, Harvey Milk. Thanks for the showing us that we could live openly and be accepted. Were it not for your faith in people, we wouldn't have this historic day.

Straight Laced Drag Dancing

If you were uncomfortable watching Jay Leno's tortured interview of Ryan Phillipe on the Tonight Show a couple of weeks ago, there is a reason. He displayed classic Hollywood homophobia, telling far more about the host than the one being interviewed.

Ryan Phillipe's first role was as the first gay teenager on an American soap opera. Jay couldn't let it alone as he implored the straight Phillipe to give his "gayest look" into the camera for him. To Phillipe's credit, he didn't give in and participate. He held his ground.

The gays were not amused. Jay Whitty, a writer who had taken Leno to task in 2006 about Leno's homophobic jokes, wrote an open letter to Leno and posted a picture of his "gayest look" in which his middle finger figured prominently. Soon a website, mygayestlook.com was created as people began sending pictures of their gayest look for posting.

Violet Blue, a columnist for the otherwise staid and conservative San Francisco Chronicle, wrote about Leno's stumble-from-face and how homophobes are likely repressing their own homosexual desires and reactions.

What I enjoy about the article is the fun she has with people's mental images of what it is like living in the Castro, the predominantly gay and lesbian San Francisco neighborhood, where she (and I) live.

She starts with what the Pat Robertsons and Jerry Falwells of the world falsely think goes on here, quickly debunking their debaucherous myths. She ends by stating what I enjoy about the neighborhood - it is one of the cleanest, safest neighborhoods in San Francisco.

It is one of the only neighborhoods in an otherwise urban town that I have no problem letting my mother wander around alone. Thanks to its well-deserved reputation, it is now one of the most desirable neighborhoods for straight people, like Ms. Blue, as well as gay people. You can't walk down the street without seeing strollers full of gaybies and babies with their proud parents.

But it comes with an enjoyable difference.

I often tell the story of what I think succinctly described Arizona when I lived there. A couple were driving down Baseline Road when they cut off a car full of gang members. The gang opened fire on them. The wife calmly opened her purse, pulled out her revolver and returned fire. The gang quickly broke off pursuit. That was Arizona.

Violet Blue gave me the story that describes my new neighborhood.

A street preacher wandered into the Castro, climbed onto a crate and started a loud tirade against gays and lesbians. A few minutes later, a man dressed in white lace drag arrived with his boombox. He set it up in front of the itinerant preacher, turned up his boombox playing Madonna's "Material Girl" louder than the preacher could shout and began dancing. The preacher finally gave up and left.

Now, that, my friends, is the Castro.

Oh, the stories that street preacher must have told to Pat Robertson of his day in the Castro. I hope he noticed the lube slide at 18th and Castro. It is Leno's favorite feature.