Juliana Delgado Lopera

You can’t talk about Pride in San Francisco without talking about 16th Street. You have to stop on 16th and Valencia Streets to mourn the dive bars and clubs that once hosted the underground homosexual sabrosura (tastiness) of the Bay Area’s Latin American community: La India Bonita, Lime Light, Esta Noche. That’s what we do, my queer “mom” Adela Vázquez and I. She says the ghosts of all the dead locas roam these streets. At 15th and Valencia Streets, we enter Pica Pica for some arepitas. We sit by the window, reminisce about old friends, and discuss San Francisco’s changing queer scene, the evolution of Pride and the death of the queer underground. Vázquez arrived in the city in 1980 after fleeing Cuba, and I, her Colombian “daughter,” came to SF nine years ago after fleeing my homophobic family.   Juliana Delgado Lopera: What was the first Pride you attended in San Francisco? Adela Vázquez: In 1984, and I’ve been to most of them since then.   JDL: What do you remember? AV: It was amazing—lots of people. It started at Civic Center and went down to the Castro.  I remember some old queens that just stood there, gorgeous, and who later became my friend: Francis, Consuela. Most of them are dead now.   JDL: How was Pride back then? AV: Pride always started with the dyke motorcycle ride. In 1984 and 1985, it was very political. I had been to Pride in L.A., and there it was more like a party, but here in San Francisco it was very political. People with AIDS were demanding housing