“What kinds of symbols represent SoMa to you now in 2026?” read the prompt. “What kinds of symbols might represent SoMa in 10, 20, 50 years?”
Nisha, who looked to be about 15 years old, drew a parol — a star-shaped lantern displayed during Christmas — and a Bahay kubo — a traditional Filipino-style house — with a small pencil as she sat at a table of the Bayanihan Community Center in SoMa.
“I love Christmas, and we use parols in the Philippines,” she said as she put the finishing touches on her art.
O.J. Monegas, an architect, was also putting pen to paper, combining both Filipino and leather culture. He drew pagmamano, a gesture where a person bows down their head and touches their forehead with the hand of an elder, the traditional way to greet Filipino elders, but with a leather wristband.
The prompts came from Jenifer K. Wofford, a local artist who is designing a steel-cut fence that will surround the forthcoming Rachele Sullivan Park, named for a prominent member of the local leather community who advocated for green space in SoMa before her death in 2022.
The park is a San Francisco Recreation and Parks project, while the fence design is managed by the Arts Commission. As part of the planning for the project, Wofford presented her design to the crowd of around 20 people, so they could weigh in.
When she finished, Megan Badilla, a fellow artist who works closely with Wofford, passed out worksheets with several prompts and space to draw. Nearby, lumpia and pancit from local Filipino favorite, Irma’s, were on offer.
The long awaited park has been in development since 2012. But, last September, construction was put on hold. At the time, San Francisco Recreation and Parks Department spokesperson Tamara Barak Aparton, attributed the pause to lack of funds.
“That doesn’t mean that we can’t continue to move forward,” said Zachary Frial, Environmental Justice Organizer for SOMCAN, a community-based organization in SoMa.
Wofford agreed; “It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but ‘when?’”
Wofford’s design for the fence, which she named “Natomarana,” is inspired by myrioramas, a set of illustrated cards that can be arranged and re-arranged to create different pictures.
Wofford created the design, she said, so that elements could be rearranged and switched out, so that it wouldn’t “feel completely monotonous.”
In her preliminary design, Wofford considered cultural relevancy and history.
Among the elements she chose: A Baguio pony (a Filipino horse breed), a Gingko tree and a mango tree (connected to queer and Asian communities), Bahay kubo (a traditional Filipino-style house), boot prints (to represent the leather community), a parol, a motorcycle, a seagull (because they’re everywhere in San Francisco!).
She was at the community center to crowdsource more ideas from the audience.
“What comments do you have about our art fence? What would you add to this landscape?” her worksheet read.
Christian Gainsley and Elisabeth Kohnkew, owners of soon-to-be-open bar and arcade Indie Darling, were at the event. Elisabeth suggested including a unicorn pool floatie, a duck and a pelican.
A person sitting with the pair drew a sinking galleon. The galleon represents San Francisco’s colonial past, they said. The sinking part was a commentary on rising sea levels.
Jericho, a regular at the Bayanihan Community Center, who moved to the U.S. from Manila drew a Jeepney, a common form of public transport in the Philippines.
Christine Abiba, Arts Administrator for SOMA Pilipinas, also drew a Jeepney, but with a twist.
“In twenty years, the Jeepney will be underwater,” she said. “It’ll be free public transit, so our people can still get around for free.”
This post has been updated to include the San Francisco Recreation and Parks and the Arts Commission involvement in the park and fence design.
No more rusting steel, please! It is incredibly hideous!
What is wrong with an ordinary wire-mesh fence, which would save tax dollars? (Assuming this is not grant money).
The only park put on hold and we continue to go without…
We must actively step away from the symbols of “Americanization” that continue to dim our own light. What we are witnessing is a daily erasure—a form of cultural genocide that we unknowingly propagate in the Philippines and extend here into the diaspora. For too long, we have accepted the Bahay Kubo as the pinnacle of our identity, but in reality, it was meant to minimize us.
Even the song we all know is an embodiment of colonial mentality. Think about the lyrics: the only line actually describing the hut is “even if it is small” (kahit munti). The song suggests the home is only worthwhile because of the vegetables around it; it relies on a “borrowed glow” rather than emitting its own sovereign, luminous light. Structurally, it is a temporary shelter—a basket shaped like a cube (kubo) with a Nipa lid for stability. It does not represent the height of our ancestral capability.
In contrast, the pre-Islamic Tausug Astana and the Maranao Torogan are the true vessels of our architectural sovereignty. These are pre-colonial edifices built like our majestic ships—the Balangay and the Karakoa. They are masterworks of wood joined without nails, featuring soaring roofs and multi-level rooms adorned with Naga and Sarimanok carvings. These structures are direct extensions of a 4,000-year-old Austronesian seafaring tradition.
This was precisely my model for the Filipinotown Gateway in Los Angeles. I believe this should be the definitive, uniquely Filipino architecture for our enclaves. If we continue to use the Americanized emblem of the Bahay Kubo—which is ubiquitous across Southeast Asia—we allow the unyielding light of our maritime ancestors to be dimmed. We must reclaim the substantial, enduring edifices that have been erased from our collective memory. This restoration even extends to our national symbols like the Sampaguita, a flower that is nowhere to be found in our pre-colonial art or our ancient tattoo traditions. It is time we stop settling for the “small” and start reflecting the true scale of our light.