Halloween Doesn’t Scare Me But The Loss of Home & Community Does
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A Beautiful City That Seems To Be Losing Its Way
As an artist with not one but two alter egos, I’m often credited with having an over-active imagination. I won’t say that I don’t possess such a thing but still I wonder why it is that every year whenever Halloween approaches, I experience zero desire to dress up in a fabulous costume.
Perhaps it’s because I didn’t grow up in the U.S., and therefore have no warm and fuzzy memories of myself as a kid donning cute outfits to go trick-or-treating. (Another reason might possibly be that I’m mostly an introvert who tends to feel overwhelmed by large crowds of people and noisy places). Anyway during my 14 years living in San Francisco, the two or three times I consented to dressing up on All Hallows’ Eve, it was either by my assembling a hodgepodge of random garments from my closet (result: I resembled no discernible character at all), or I placed some small item(s) on my person — something that allowed me to declare, if pressed, that I too was in disguise. For example last year, with my favorite earrings on, I stated that I was The Answer to the Universe.
And so it was that this year, on the morning of October 31st, once again I had things other than a costume on my mind. To be fair, I’ve been seriously cogitating on those other things and almost nothing else for coming up on three years now. It’s been that long since the six-unit building I reside in, which just happens to be a prime Mission location (“minutes from Valencia Street restaurants, bars and cafes!”, “two blocks from Dolores Park!”) got sold for a song to a self-proclaimed “property investor.”
(Let’s just say the new landlord would really, really, appreciate it if MPX aka SBF might leave the building, and he never fails to remind me).
Some context for those that are not living inside the current San Francisco bubble: in the last few years, the city has been experiencing a severe housing crisis and it is steadily getting worse. A massive surge in high-paid tech workers moving to the city has caused rents to increase by absurd amounts. Coupled with property investors and real estate developers desiring to profit from the inflated demand, it has led to the buying-up of almost all existing housing stock and/or any new development lots. Many tenants of long-time, rent-controlled units have been evicted from their homes as a result. They might be elderly, disabled or multi-generational families, but Gawd Bless Capitalism, which is always indifferent to the plight of the disadvantaged, the under-resourced, the less-than-thriving.
Me personally, I’ve managed to stave off eviction thus far by learning my rights and staying on my toes, but sadly most of my closest friends have left the city. And no matter what other desires or opportunities might present themselves, I know that I could probably never afford to move from here. (Rent Control, please know that I will be forever grateful for allowing yours truly, a full-time artist with a part-time salary, to have a home in this silly, hilly city)
So, as is often the case these days, all the above was on my mind Saturday morning, as myself and a friend — a neighbor who had also been in his rent-controlled apartment for more than 11 years — arrived at the Prop I headquarters in order to Get Out The Vote.
About 40 or so other concerned neighbors and activists — all ages and all ethnicities— were there before us. They were already stickering polling station address labels onto Prop I door-hangers. My friend and I went upstairs to join a group of other volunteers in a conference room where Gabriel Medina, Prop I campaign manager, explained what we should say to anyone we encountered:
“Tell them your personal story, that you live in this neighborhood, that it’s really urgent they vote. Tell them you believe in affordable housing. Tell them they can vote between 7 a.m. and 8 p.m. Ask them to come and help. Let them know that you’re real people, not paid actors”.
“Tell them: if there’s one time to turn out,” he continued, “this is it.”
One of the volunteers at the back of the room shouted forth his own suggestion of what we might say:
“Vote as if this is your last chance, because it very well might be.”
That comment rang scarily true. For myself and all the people who had been working on the Prop I campaign: we had no option but to fight to stay here.
We went downstairs and joined what was now a much larger group of volunteers. Together we finished the stickering of thousands of door hangers and small teams were dispatched in all directions. Myself and a fellow San Francisco Tenants Union volunteer went off to do “visibility”: We stood for a couple of hours on Mission Street handing out Prop I postcards to passers-by and reminding people to vote “YES on I” on Nov. 3.
Later as I walked home, handing out postcards to anyone who glanced my way, I approached a man; he appeared to be in his late 50s.
“Hello! Are you a registered voter? Do you know about Prop I?,” I said, pointing to the graphic on my T-shirt.
“Yes I do. I’ve already voted against it,” he said.
I felt my face change its expression.
“Um, fair enough… and would you mind telling me your reasons for that?”
“Well, obviously, the solution in a housing crisis is not to stop the building of new homes,” he replied.
“Ah, I see, but that’s not what Prop I actually wants to do,” I countered. “It’s seeking a temporary pause in the building of luxury-type condos, the ones which currently have market rents of between $5–6K and rising! The point being that during the pause, the city and our neighborhood will have time to come up with an affordable housing plan.
“The goal is that it will help ordinary people like you and me, and all our neighbors, all the people that built the Mission, the Latino communities, the working-class families of color, the long-time residents, the artists, the so-called weirdos and misfits, the ones who gave our city all the character and history, the ones that don’t have ridiculous sums of money to spend on rents… it will give them the opportunity to stay here. Many of those people are losing their homes. Other San Francisco neighborhoods are looking to us to set an example.”
“Oh,” he said, as I watched his face changed expression.
I asked him to take a postcard or two so that he could explain what Prop I was to any friends that had not yet voted. He took one and said he would consider it. As he walked away, I called after him and asked if he would please try to convince at least two people to vote “Yes on I.”
* * * * *
That night I decided to head out in costume after all. I attached a Prop I pin to my top, at the spot where my actual heart was and took the large red, heart-shaped, cookie cutter that is normally on my fridge and placed it over the pin. I would talk to as many people as possible about the importance of voting yes.
Within two blocks of my home, I bumped into long-time Mission resident and friend Leila Mansur from Radio Habana Social Club. She had had the same idea as me, but was not in any way subtle about it. (Ha, go Leila!)
Suddenly a guy called Mike Santos, another Prop I proponent— wearing the pin on his lapel — shouted out “Leila!,” and joined us to make a Prop I trio. Then a fourth, Daniel — a tenants rights attorney and fellow SFTU volunteer — also wearing the pin, seeing Leila’s costume, greeted the three of us. The four of us had an animated conversation about our decision to wear Prop I that night.
A young man in his 30s approached us. He asked why Prop I was so important. I launched into my spiel, the one I knew off by heart (pardon the pun).
“OK,” he began, “I’ll vote Yes on that. But what about F? Is that really one I should vote for too?”
I gave him two for the price of one. (Ugh, AirBnB with your $8million budget to spin this city!)
“Sold!,” he said.
“Hey… tell everybody, OK?” I shouted after him as he walked away.
Incredulous after having watched an episode of Bad Cop/Incompetent Cop followed by Burner-Style Raving at Mission Playground, Mike, Leila and I walked away from all the madness to stroll three blocks south to her charming establishment. There we drank shots of wine, and perused a special book that Mike had been carrying around all evening in a ziplock bag. They were black and white photos of San Franciscan Halloween revellers; I imagine he had probably been waiting for just the right moment and just the right audience to whip it out. Eventually Leila danced to Fela Kuti whilst Mike and I discussed the merits of a particular camera. It was a memorable and mellow end to another San Francisco Halloween. We all hope to have many more, whether we choose to use Props as props or not.
The End
PS The moral of this story is VOTE YES ON I and VOTE YES ON F.
[Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared on ripple.news]
