S.F. Pride 2025: Friday — Cumbiatón is Pride en español

There’s a queer Latino dance party, born in Los Angeles, back in the Mission for the weekend. Inside the venue, the air is humid with sweat and the vapors of beers left in glasses a little too long. People are dressed for another cumbia night: crop tops stopping just above the navel, crochet-knit shirts—somewhat inconvenient for both the weather and The Chapel on Valencia Street.

Founded in 2017 by LA-based DJ Sizzle Fantastic and Normz la Oaxaqueña, Cumbiatón was created as a space intentionally for queer, trans, undocumented, and working-class people of color — and so it remains.

In the midst of a Pride weekend marked by the intersection of multiple struggles, the party offered a mix of cumbia, reggaetón, and hip-hop spun by undocumented immigrants and Palestinian refugees alike. What started as Marc Anthony’s “Vivir Mi Vida” turned into Khaled’s “C’est la vie.” MENA’s Raï and salsa together, for once.

There was even space for extremely foreign songs turned cumbia. Most notably: a remix of T.A.T.u.’s “All The Things She Said,” overlaid with banda’s accordions and brassy winds — which had Russia’s Nikita Akimov breaking out every dance move he could conjure, and belting the lyrics with the passion of someone who has not been able to sing it in public in quite some time.

Upstairs on the mezzanine, people opted for leaving their drinks on the tables rather than dropping them on someone’s head. No one downstairs deserved an inadvertent pour — not while line-dancing to Caballo Dorado’s “Payaso de Rodeo,” and certainly not while singing along to drag queen La Chucha’s playful mashup of Evanescence and Radiohead, performed to a more familiar Mexican beat.

It was all fun and cute, but it was also political. At one point deep into her set, DJ Sizzle Fantastic grabbed the mic and called for a pause — not to slow the energy, but to redirect it. “Can I get a ¡Chinga la Migra!?” she shouted, and the response was instant and deafening. A few beats later, she followed with “¡Viva Palestina!” — again met with cheers, fists raised, joy laced with resistance. It wasn’t a break from the party, it was part of it.

Chile’s Alberto Undurraga, an economics student at UC Berkeley, was surprised at how inclusive the party turned out to be — though he wasn’t completely happy with the DJs’ performances. “There was a little bit for everyone,” he said, “but not enough consistency in every set.”

The Latin American crowd remains strict and demanding — not enough Bad Bunny is an unofficial crime — but the vibe holds: keffiyeh or Mexican hat, we’re in this together. See y’all on Saturday.

— Liliana Michelena

Van Ness Avenue hums with conversation. Attendees in sequined jackets and bold pride attire drift past the Grand Tier steps. Outside the building, a rainbow-colored Altar of Remembrance invites people to honor loved ones by writing their names on a flag, while members of the San Francisco Opera Chorus perform a short set of opera classics and musical theater staples for those on their way to the main event.

San Francisco Opera’s first-ever Pride Concert brings together multiple generations of the LGBTQ+ community for a night that begins with operatic heritage and escalates into a modern celebration.

“Tonight we gotta kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight!” shouts SF Opera’s general director, Matthew Shilvock, in his opening remarks. With gentle nudging from drag star and emcee Sapphira Cristál, that’s exactly what the audience does, pushing from classical to contemporary tunes out of sheer excitement.

Soloists Jamie Barton, Nikola Printz, and Brian Mulligan, along with the full orchestra conducted by Robert Mollicone, transition seamlessly from bel canto to karaoke classics, with playful lighting accompanying each performance. The crowd roars at Judy Garland’s “The Man That Got Away” and the Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Fine,” while Melissa Etheridge’s “Uprising of Love” — set against historical photos from early Pride marches — underscores the deep roots of the gay movement in San Francisco.

The most emotional moment of the night is followed by the most communal. Prompted by Cristál, the entire crowd joins in what she called “the gay Macarena”: a self-hug while chanting “I truly love and accept myself!”

Applause erupts. The concert closes with “I Was Born This Way” — the disco anthem from the ’70s, not Gaga’s — and patrons soon filter into the lobby, where DJ Juanita More has already started her set. Beats of house and disco fill the carpeted corridors. The evening is just getting started.

— Liliana Michelena

In a video posted on X this evening, participants in the Trans March seem to ask Mayor Daniel Lurie to leave Dolores Park and the events before the march this afternoon, chanting “How dare you come here?”

“These are not your people,” one person appears to shout at Lurie. “Do something for trans people.”

Lurie crosses the street to exit the park, surrounded by bodyguards, and walks up Dolores Street. He embraces Supervisor Rafael Mandelman, as another passer by flips him off, before the video ends.

— Jessica Blough

Outside the Chase Center before today’s Golden State Valkyries game, the energy is electric as hoards of purple-clad fans pour into Thrive City. The team is celebrating pride inside the stadium tonight, but the festivities are already in progress outside, with remixed pop hits booming out over the crowd as fans pose in front of rainbow-colored backdrops.

Two dancers on stilts don rainbow sequins and jumpsuits, the second most popular color scheme of the night, after purple and black. Black Benatar, a drag queen, poses with fans and drops to her knees to greet children. She’s attending the game as a fan, sitting up in the 200 section.

“The camaraderie, the amount of queerness that is present, it truly feels incredible,” she says. “My wish for all of us is to find ways to experience radical joy.”

Though their fan base — and tonight’s attendees — include quite a few straight people, queer fans attending this game say that the atmosphere in the stadium is more inclusive and welcoming to all people and generations than other sports games they’ve attended.

“It’s somewhere to put our energy,” Sinead Kennedy says. She’s at the game with her wife, Kate, and their 3 year old daughter. Kate made the three of them matching jean jackets adorned with rainbow tinsel. Seeing everyone out cheering for the Valkyries is “a little win,” she says.

She’s hoping for a big win tonight, too. The Valkyries play the Chicago Sky at 7 p.m.

— Jessica Blough

As the day continues, the sound of main stage performers and speakers booms over the crowd. A performer sings about men being upset when they find out their partner is a trans woman. She’s a bit “angry,” she reveals to the audience between songs.

Groups of people sit on the grass, many in angel wings with the pink, blue and white hues of the trans flag. One woman, her back full of tattoos, sways topless in the park. Others weave their way through the groups seated on the grass. Two women show up with simply nipple coverings on top, walking through the crowd. Marjuana lingers in the air. 

Dancers make their way to the front of the lawn, near the stage, shaking their butts. Someone else wraps themselves in a trans flag, holding a selfie stick and taking a 360 video. 

Rainbow wigs, long, red hair wigs and all types of hats — from sombreros to cowboy hats — pervade the space, just like nakedness. 

A participant is on the phone, walking across the lawn, arm extended straight up with a rainbow flag in hand. A small yellow dog with a rainbow bandana jumps on participants as its owner makes its way through the groups on the lawn. A t-shirt, white with red lettering: “Queer as in Free Palestine,” it reads.

Janetta Johnson, CEO of TGIJP, cultural center for black trans community members, is the last speaker. In their speech, they support trans people coming out of prison, leader development and training. 

Listening eagerly, a young girl sits atop a participant’s shoulders, getting a better view of the stage. Another participant ties a trans flag into their ponytail. 

“Queer as in end capitalism,” a sign is held, bouncing up and down above the heads of onlookers.

Marchers begin to line up on Dolores St, the beat of a drum setting the tone. A series of flags, mostly trans flags, migrate down the park towards the march, though many groups remain seated. 

“Fuck la migra!” a drag queen announces before the DJ starts mixing a set. 

Participants wearing the angel wings take to the front of the march, leading the troops.

– Madera Longstreet-Lipson

The crowds trickling into white tents at Dolores Park have turned into a full-blown multicolor swarm. And it’s only getting bigger.

Under the sun shines every color of the rainbow, dyed onto the tops of the heads, and if you were to make anybody out from the crowd they would probably have various silver studs and rings perforating their face.

Generations of dolls, boys and nonbinary folks are indistinguishable in between bikini bottoms and bubbles above floating over the crowd.

The regular Dolores park entrepreneurs have decorated their carts with rainbow flags for the occasion, and are still peddling the same old beer and flower as any other Friday afternoon.

There’s a main stage towards the bottom of the hill where Cameron Love is belting out acoustic LGBTQ+ anthems and is quickly followed by an Ariana Grande drag performance that ends with “Free Sudan. Free Congo. Free Palestine.” The crowd goes wild.

There is everything from synthetic wigs to shaved heads to mullets; every kind of outfit from glitter jumpsuits to blue and pink floor-length angel wings to birthday suits. In a sea of potent individuality, baby pink, white and blue runs throughout.

— Jordan Montero

The sun is out in full force at Dolores Park today, as are hundreds of transgender people and their supporters gathered to celebrate with each other ahead of the Trans March.

Across the expansive park, smiles are abundant. Couples traipse through holding hands. Friends hunt for patches of shade and gather around picnic blankets, games and puzzles. Bubbles floating through the air garner the delight of children and adults alike. 

A row of booths stretch across the park filled with community organizations and volunteers. One booth gives away bubbles, and another passes out sunscreen. In the Gender Health SF booth, an artist paints a child’s face with hearts in rainbow colors. 

At the booth sponsored by PRC, a workforce development agency, volunteers pass out markers and poster boards to visitors, who scrawl on signs to carry during the trans march. Lauren Vega, a trans woman who works at PRC, says the organization joins the trans march every year because many of its staff members are trans. 

“We’ve had a lot of young trans kids today,” she says. She was working late last night, taping wooden sticks to poster boards to create blank signs. “I can finally breathe now and let everybody enjoy it.”

In another corner of the park, a hair stylist snips scissors through her client’s hair, dropping four or five inches to the ground. Another buzzes off the left side of her client’s locks. The stylists were recruited by the Our Family Coalition to offer free gender affirming haircuts and already have a line of people of all ages waiting for their turns. 

Our Family Coalition, an organization that supports queer families and parents, is also offering sign making, gender-affirming voice coaching and free native plants in hand-painted pots. 

“This day is about being visible, being seen,” Mimi Demissew, executive director of Our Family Coalition, says. “It’s life-saving to be here together.”

About 15 people clothed in oversized angel wings the color of the trans flag unfurl a 100-foot long trans flag over the grass, momentarily shading spectators from the bright sunlight.

– Jessica Blough

The theme of this year’s parade is “Queer Joy Is Resistance,” which Ford says reflects two tenets of Pride this year: standing up to hate and expressing joyfulness in the face of oppression. Since last year’s Pride parade, legislatures across the country, including the White House, have proposed and passed laws that would threaten and harm queer and trans people in the U.S.

“The queer community has known how to have joy in the face of oppression forever,” Ford says. “We don’t find joy in taking other people’s rights. We find joy in being together and standing up for marginalized people.”

After the organization financially struggled this year when some corporate sponsors pulled out, Ford says she wants to see 500,000 people at the parade on Sunday, compared to last year’s 300,000-person attendance. To support SF Pride, attendees can donate day-of or buy tickets to the Pride Parade Grandstands and “lavish” City Hall after party.

Of particular focus to organizers this year: collaborating across San Francisco’s LGBTQ+ communities, from Folsom Street’s kink community to the Tenderloin’s Transgender District to special events geared toward kids and families. SF Pride hopes to bring crowds of queer young adults to performances on their mainstage, which Ford credits to mainstage director Niko Storment. 

But the moment Ford is most looking forward to this weekend? Riding to the end of the parade route and seeking out young trans people to have a brief conversation, something she does every year. “I let them know that I see them,” she said, “because I want them to know that there is a world where trans people can have full and challenging, beautiful lives.” 

– Jessica Blough

White tents are set up around the lawn, some still with empty tables and chairs, and others with groups of people, chatting, eating, and listening to music. 

Some of the set up tents include representation from Trans Health and Wellness, Trans: Thrive and San Francisco Community Health Center. 

The focal point in the park is a wooden structure titled “The Lovers.” The two lovers are a Venus-esque woman with flowing hair and a penis, and a David-esque man with a “t-dick” — a hormone therapy that turns a clitoris into a penis.

Some people are lounging on the grass, pink and blue gear on. One participant wears a black shirt with a rainbow on the front — “Read Banned Books,” it says. Porta Potties are set up on the high end of the park. 

It’s still quiet, the only sounds are wagons moving, people setting up, a few dog collars shaking as the pets wander across the park, and conversations among friends.

Bianca Stevens, who works with the Transgender Pilot Program, said she and her teammate set up around 12 p.m, although she anticipates most attendees arriving around 3 to 4 p.m.. Their tent offers resources for trans people, including giving away makeup.

She recognizes how each program represented is different, but important under the current political climate. 

“I hope they all receive their own recognition as transgender services here in San Francisco, and that they don’t fade,” she says.

– Madera Longstreet-Lipson