Painted Into a Rainbow Corner

So many San Francisco cliches have always given us pride, and so very quickly, everything we once took for granted about our Babylon by the Bay has become so diminished. Our city has officially fallen victim to its own success.

The irony? The gayest city in the world has become homogenized, often described as "a playground for the rich." The Summer of Love has been overshadowed by a Season of Greed.

First they came for the gays, and I spoke out because the gays were dying in droves from a merciless plague.

Then they came for marriage equality, and I spoke out—even though I take issue with marriage because it misses the point, favoring legality over egality.

Then they came for the naked guys, and I did not speak out—because naked guys had picked the wrong battle when it comes to freedom of expression.

Then they came for Dolores Park, and I tried to speak out, but instead accepted practical new rules for a place that has always been gloriously unruled.

Then they came for my rent-control, and I did not speak out, because no matter how I tried, I couldn't buy in and I no longer wanted to fight.

Now a tidal wave of technology businesses have come for the spirit of San Francisco, and there's a very weary few who can still keep up or speak up, as boomtown lowers the boom on our beloved bubble.

We never thought it would happen - San Franhattan. San Frangeles. We never thought our core values of tolerance, freedom and the right to freakdom could evaporate so quickly, and yet...

San Francisco made me this freak, and convinced me it was my right. 20 years into my conversion from an East Coast control freak, I have finally let loose and learned to fly. I've overcome the cost of living by living the dream, finding a perfectly sweet spot between corporate servitude and nonprofit passion. By day I sold my soul to the highest bidder, and by night I donated and volunteered it to my favorite nonprofits.

Compliant by day, creative by night, I was surviving hand-to-mouth and willing to pay the price indefinitely. But now, the stakes are higher, and the rewards seem lower. We won the battle and lost the war, and now our city is both evolving and evaporating at a pace that surely must be unsustainable.

What will give in the face of so much take? Who will remain to remember that Harvey Milk said "You gotta give 'em hope?" or that John Steinbeck called our city "a golden handcuff with the key thrown away"?

Can balance be struck when trade-offs abound? Can integrity prevail when institutional insults assault our once solid San Francisco sensibilities and sensitivities?

The seismic social sea change matches the bibilical climate change, and we who still remember do our best to dig deep.

I am no different.

But how does one decide when the jig is up and it's necessariliy time to give up? At what point does "typical" SF insanity give way to unbearable rationality? 

San Francisco 2015 seems irreversibly changing, but the changes already made in our bleeding hearts persist. Plan B seems unthinkable, so we press on with our illusions and delusions, in hopes that balance will be struck and sanity will prevail. But the struggle is real.

I don't want to leave my heart in San Francisco, although each day the changing landscape and the insufferable vibe break my heart a little more. I'm trying to believe that great transformation and growth will result, that the growing pains will heal.

Here's hoping, San Francisco, because you have been my sacred soulmate. May my personal Tales of the City surprise me and restore my once-blind faith. Come through, San Francisco, I love you!