 So, one of these questions is talk about how your work relates influences new art activism like the Degenderettes, and I will jump in and just share that a lot of the works that I do, there's documentation work I did a short on Teresita La Campesina called Wanted Alive in 96. I also did a movie called Viva, Viva 16th in 1994 with Augie Robles, and gender and sexuality are at the forefront for me as a genderqueer person before the concept of genderqueer was out there. My friend Osa was working on a movie, that's how we actually met, Lenore and I have known each other for 30 years, something like that, a long time, and Osa recently shared a photo of me that's on the flyer that Mason used, where I was using lipstick, I just always thought I used lipstick a lot, and sometimes people would ask what is, what's up, or maybe they wouldn't ask, they didn't really say, but how I connect today's gender activism and the Degenderettes in particular to that work, or to that time is that we were really creating our own spaces, we were creating our own identities, and in some cases people like Teresita, Chili D, Virginia, Benavides, we kind of challenged gender in our own ways on a daily basis, and we resisted labels, so I'm going through digitized video of Teresita right now, and I asked her when did she first start doing drag, and she didn't correct me, but her response said I first started dressing up when I was 16, and what she goes on to share is that she is not trans, that she is a man and a woman, and it's really something that I relate to, and I think the Degenderettes, I think what's Mason and the Hormel Center are putting out there in terms of questioning gender, it really relates to me because I think sometimes people really are into the labels and categories and forcing our stories in ways that don't allow us to tell our own stories. Well, those were just some from the audience if you wanted to answer any of those, and then there's some other ones that I have too, either way. Okay, this actually could relate to the Valentines as well. My question here is, how did you, they experience slash overcome or reconcile challenges in the development of subject slash work? In terms of my own work, my body of work that I've developed over the years, one of the strategies that I used when I realized that it was pretty difficult as a woman and as a person of color later as a queer person to get work that I might be interested in doing into quote unquote mainstream galleries, I learned very quickly that for all the talk that I used to hear all the buzzwords about how avant-garde they were, the reality is that there were certain barriers in terms of content that you couldn't get your way into these spaces with a shoehorn. That's just the reality. You could submit as many slides, back in the day there were slides, but it would just be completely ignored. I did manage to get some of my work into juried competitions locally, regionally and around the country. Sometimes I would get some into places that would have a call for artists work that had to do with families, and sometimes I would get into them. But the challenges that I would sometimes be faced or would hear about later is somebody would write in the comments of the books that were laid out particularly in places like in Concord or across the bay somewhere, why did you include this piece? For instance, the piece I showed of John Arbuckle and his then partner who died with her cat, that had to be moved from a place where it was installed. That particular show had to do with Anne Frank. The curator, his intent was to broaden the topic of tolerance. This particular spot, it was like a pop-up gallery kind of place in a shopping center in Corda Madeira. The location of the painting then could be seen through the windows, and there were some objections to its inclusion. So as not to have a lot of pushback, they just moved it to be less visible. I only found out about it when I went to pick up my painting after the show was over and some of the artists saw me coming through with my painting in the parking lot and they said, oh, how did you handle that one? And I had no idea what had happened. Another case was over at, in Concord, there's a, I can't remember the name of the gallery, but it's over in Walnut Creek, that area. And I had a painting, it was a domestic scene of two women in a kitchen. They were partners at the time and they were just, you know, over a kitchen stove. And that was, again, was part of family theme and somebody objected to that as well. So I've had those kinds of things in quote-unquote mainstream venues, but on top of that, I was also getting my work out there through, you know, nonprofit community organizations. I've shown in a number of places all over the Bay Area, South Market Cultural Center, Mission Cultural Center. You know, just about every cultural center in the city. So I've got my work out there that way and the other thing that I began to learn through my politics and grassroots work is to create your own community. You know, so I was part of a number of organizations like the Asian American Woman Artists Association and I was a board member and founding board member of QCC and its president for some 13 years. And so we started reaching out to the cultural centers in the Bay Area, in the city, pulling our resources. Sometimes some of us would have grant expertise or we knew how to put a show together or something like that. Other people had a venue. We were always a virtual cultural center. So those were the kinds of things that we developed to create a network and an infrastructure in a day when you couldn't necessarily get your work out there easily. I think with the question, okay, I like the work and being influenced with the new art and activism. I want to give credit to Natalia Vigil, who's been doing still here. I like thank you to her and Christina Mitra, who started that with her. They both, they started it and I think for five years they did it together and then Christina stepped down. So I was able to participate and still here twice with them and I actually wrote to them, I submitted my work when I was still living in New Mexico, because somebody said you should apply to this. I was like, sounds great. So I applied from New Mexico. They're like, sorry, but we want people who are living here. And I was like, all right, okay. And then when I came back, they again accepted me two times. And thankfully through them, I've been able to connect with them and some younger artists, including Mason and a couple other folks. But it is harder at this time, I'm older, I'm a full-time teacher up in Sacramento. I have a five-year-old son and those two, the son comes first and last and then the job and then have a partner. It's hard to, you know, it's hard to find time to write my own stuff, let alone connect with other people. So I try to run down to the bay when I can, again donate some money. So again, so I wish I could say I had a lot more to list, but thank you to still here. And yeah. Thank you. So I had a number of questions that I had already prepared, but it seems like you kind of answered the first one about activism and your work and how they, are they mutually enriching or how do they inform each other? And so I was going to just skip to the next one and then, okay. So the next question was, often as artists and activists with many identities, we navigate many worlds. This requires a journey through insider and outsider perspectives. Can you say something about this navigation or does this not resonate with you? Yeah. I think, I think as you saw in my slides, I started off with my family's place on 18th Street. And I feel like insider, outsider is, it's like I was born in, I was born in Kaiser, not in the mission, but born in San Francisco. That's true. So I grew up in the mission, but it was a kind of like parallel universes. There's like my family and then there's this whole of the world and it's the whole of the world. We're very insular, very insular. We have so many cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents all in the same house every night for dinner that we didn't, and they kept, and a lot of us were girls. So I think they kept a close eye on us in a way, and we grew up here, and the adults who took care of us, they didn't walk around the world like, yeah, this is my world. That's why I didn't, I didn't really feel that. They were like, be careful. So I feel like that's my first insider, outsider was a family and everybody else. And then there's, again, being queer, it's like, well, I've seen all these, I've seen the neighborhood changing where my uncle Joe used to live on Castle Street and it was just Castle Street, and now it's the Castro. So there is that thing, and then there's class, and then there's academia. And one thing about academia is that as I started going up in the levels, I didn't want to lose my family, and that has to do with probably, you know, my mother dying in my second semester of my first year of college, and I was very close to her family, and I wanted to maintain that closeness, and I wanted to stay in school, but I didn't, I could, I heard, I didn't just, it wasn't just my imagination, but you know, with Richard Rodriguez is one of the Chicanos out there, Mexican Americans who's saying, education and me separate myself. And I knew I didn't want that separation. So I would share what I was learning with my family, and also academia was a weird thing to me. I'm like, wow, I mean, because I went there as a high school student at these summer trips, summer, summer programs, and I remember discovering this thing called the bagels, like, whoa, what's that, you know, and I was like, cream cheese, and I'm like, I don't like cream cheese, I like bagels, but it was the whole of the world, but I knew I didn't want it cut off, and it has taken work. Any other thoughts? I think Vero, Vero Mahano and I had a conversation about a couple of months ago that I think is connected to this in that, like 24th Street, there's the Mission Latino Cultural District that's out now, and, but Vero and I, Vero works at Cap, Mission Neighborhood Center on Cap, and a lot of my work revolves around 16th Street, and like, love, life, death, crime, everything on 16th Street, and we were talking about how they're so different, how 24th Street and 16th Street are so different. And ultimately what she said was, oh, 16th Street is shady. And I was like, what? And she is like, 16th Street is very shady, whereas 24th Street is kind of like more respectable now. And I was like, oh, okay. Yes, 16th Street is shady and it's still shady. And how I relate it to this is that we are outsiders, that I, I can walk on 24th Street, I work Shanti and has an office on 23rd between South Vanessa and Folsom, but I feel more, I'm an outsider when I go to that part of the mission, whereas on 16th Street, they're like, hey, girl, like, where you been? I haven't seen you for a long time. And that's for real, because there's still, a lot of us still live there. Like Mahogany grew up, was raised on 16th Street, and Teresita lived the Mission Hotel at 16th and South Vanessa. And Lulu, who passed away a drag queen, lived around the corner from me. She committed suicide on Valentine's Day in like 88. And a whole bunch of us, like 16th Street is that, like we are that and like our blood is on that street, our, our lives are on that street. And we are outsiders, but we're not outside when we're on 16th Street. Is there anything? Oh, just real briefly, sort of. I was actually kind of having a little flashback because I didn't grow up in the Mission. I grew up on the other side of the city in the Richmond district. And my dad tried to buy a house down the peninsula. And he lost money in the venture because he was basically run out of town before we arrived. That was 1951. And so when, when he decided, OK, we can't, we can't get a house there. He was trying to get the family out of Chinatown. I never lived in Chinatown, but I was born at St. Francis Hospital. We lived kind of near there until I was two. So anyway, he tried in the Richmond district, which in those days was not like it is now. If you, if you know the Richmond district, it's, it's now it's like highly Asian of all sorts, you know. But it took decades to get there. And, and the newer people who moved out there since then have no idea what happened when my dad brought the family out there. I learned as an adult that there were death threats. And when my dad bought the house through a third party so that he could kind of slip in there. They, they got the threats and the real estate agent told them, you better put a two by four behind your garage door, just in case. People wouldn't think of that now. I mean, people think that San Francisco is a liberal city. Well, it's not. It never really has been. But back in that day, it was worse and it was very blatant. And unfortunately, some of this stuff is coming out again because, like, for instance, a little segue. I was in Japan town to, to go to a movie and, and I had to use a pass. You know, so I had to talk to a person. I couldn't use their kiosk. Well, I'd been standing around the doors weren't open yet. And some, some guy comes up behind me and he objected. He thought that somehow I had cut in line. There was no line when I came in as a white guy. And he said, you know, God damn Asians. You know, in San Francisco, in Japan town of all places, right, but unfortunately in today's climate, it has become prevalent. And I'm hearing things as an adult that I haven't heard since I was in elementary school. So getting back to the question about inside, outside, when I was in the Richmond district growing up, I was always an outsider. But I didn't know that at the time. I thought that was normal. That was my normal, you know. And then as I got a little older, then, then I, you know, learned a little bit more about all these different barriers. I never understood why whenever I went to the supermarket, that's when they went to take a break, right? And then I realized, oh, they just don't want to serve me. So, you know, those are the kind of flashbacks I had. But yet I would go down to the the Fillmore or whatever with my black high school friends and have no problem, none. They were all black people are always my protectors. And when I was little, my closest friends were Japanese Americans or Jewish, you know, and later I realized that because it was because we had something in common. So as I became an adult, because of my family's influence and my dad, who was very worldly, he was a mathematician and he had friends of all kinds and he worked with them. I learned to have a more open idea of the world. And so I've always felt comfortable moving in different neighborhoods and with different cultures, largely because of my friends. So, you know, that that was just sort of my experience. Thank you. Do you guys want to answer that question about hatefulness? Yeah. OK, it seems like a good segue. Yeah. It's like, how have you coped with hateful, hateful hatefulness, any encouragement for younger folks? Like, this is, yeah, the insider, outsider. And, you know, part of the thing about growing up in the mission and seeing part of it become the Castro, it's been kind of weird because the mission's home. But there are times when, as I started coming out, felt safer in the Castro. But then later it was like, oh, yeah, really, I'm like safer in a way in the Castro. But these big white guys are just bumping into me and kind of run me over here. And I say, you know, I love the mission. It's I love it. And but I have to say it's the place that it's been the hardest at times to be out. I mean, not just in Galeria de la Raza, which just feels like home, you know, but like walking the streets and just being out. And I mean, I've been harassed on the street. I've been chased on the street. And besides, you know, verbally cussed out or yelled at. And I say, and one of the people who yelled at me, I'm so it was a little old lady. And all she she was like, she saw me, she goes, lesbian. It's like she'd been nice. I would have helped her with the groceries, but, you know, I was like, it's like, you know, and so. But, you know, it's been it's been men, you know, it's I really who have been harassing and it's like, I'm with my girlfriend and you're alone. I don't know. You know, I'm just doing my thing. And it was somebody, you know, it's been so how do we do with it? Most thankfully, I don't know if it's as age or what, but it hasn't happened in a while. But because it has happened multiple times in multiple places and not just here in other places, too. Yeah, it's like we're comfortable shoes, be ready at any. I try to be ready for anything. Really, that's that's real. Try to talk. You know, again, it hasn't happened in a while. So thankfully, I'm a little rusty on it. But I don't think it's never going to happen again. I know it can happen. I know that and I don't like that. That's that's safe right now. I well, I take from like situations where there's openly there's hatefulness that comes out is. Know your worth and find people not necessarily who are like you, but who are who are your partners in crime. And because sometimes that's what it comes down to. Like, you know, you got to have this life is short and you're here for a little while. Be fabulous, be brilliant. And if your form of brilliance bothers somebody, fuck them. And this is not for them. This is not for the way I look at it is I wake up in the morning and this is for me. And this street is my street or this moment is my moment. And these sisters, these people, my brothers, they're we're here for each other and everybody else, they can do their thing. And if they're so bothered with us, fuck them. This is this is a moment in time where you should own it. And what I learned from my like drag queen friends or my druggy friends or my poet hippie friends is, you know what, live your moment because we may not be here tomorrow and but hopefully we are tomorrow. And but God damn it, be fierce, at least. And if somebody can't take that level, they should move to Concord. Out of California. This this is it. One thing I want to say is that about the hateful part is that when I moved back from Iowa and I again, I had been to my family had been evicted in 1983. So it wasn't new when I came back from Iowa in 98. But the gentrification in it was just, you know, you know, just I felt I think more empowered. So I felt angrier and and actually I was one of those hateful people on the street and I would see somebody who I thought was an outsider, who I thought was a gentrifier. And I did not physically hurt anybody, but I would purposefully scowl, you know, look upset. And and and I would spit with disgust near them, not at them. But I I I didn't know how to fight back, you know, you know, that's that's true. And I and I but I realized is that my hatred, my anger was just hurting me. They were still living their little lives, you know, and they're nobody was doing anything because of my little anger. And I was like, well, OK, let me go back to writing. Let me go back, you know, like, let me let me channel this. So. Do you have anything to add? Not really, except that I agree with Kathy, you know, because like the fellow who who had a problem with me being at the Kabuki. I just turned around and said, you have a problem with it. And I just ignored him after that. And there's nothing he could do. You know, because otherwise they're just wasting your energy. Thank you. So we have two more questions that came from the audience. And I'm just going to read them. And then if you have any thoughts on either of them. Just in the last 10 minutes or so. How do you feel you can speak or how do you feel? Or can you speak of the difficulty, if any, in sharing space with queer youth today, for example, with language? And how do you feel like white supremacy slash academia still controls or dominates social slash political agendas regarding LGBTQ communities? What can we do? It's a little easier. So if it's OK, I'll kind of jump in. I worked at Lyric, a lavender youth recreation and information center for about six years. And I guess what I learned there or what I learned in other contexts that I took there and got reinforced was that the oppression that's occurring externally that we're able to make spaces and projects and art that supersede those things. And that in the process, like sometimes people will talk about working toward a revolution and waiting for that revolution for the utopia that we want. And I don't believe in that at all. What I what I think is an act your utopia today. But and and what I learned being at Lyric was be intentional, like talk about your boundaries and talk about what works for you and what we're going to do, how we're going to do it and hold each other accountable that we're and also we deserve high quality things. We deserve high quality programs and art and fabulosity. And that really takes a little bit of extra work. And in the process, our oppressions pop up and we act out against each other. And that's not OK. It's understandable, but it's not OK that we perpetuate those things or that we mimic those systems of oppression. So what I take away is. Acknowledge where people are at what they've experienced and to not let people stay there, that at least not with you in that moment. Like if they're after they're working with you outside of that project, outside of that space, if they need to devolve back into whatever they were right beforehand, that's OK. But when they're with you, hold your hold your sister accountable, hold yourself accountable and and and know that we're human and flawed. And that sometimes even the best of us monsters need a break, some slack need to cry. I was just thinking about Katie Gill-Martin, who runs the Queer Ancestors Project. She's based at SoMarts and and now she's one of the sisters. And I love her when she's in that sort of incarnation, but one time she invited me to come to one of her print workshops where she was, you know, sort of assisting some young people in how to create prints and when she reached out to me, you know, sometimes I forget just how old I am at this point because my mind hasn't changed, you know, I just don't rise up as fast. But but one of the things that I found interesting and I try to sort of in part when I talk to college campus classes and things like that, we don't have all the answers by any stretch. And so it's a learning curve for us as well. But I think one of the things that young people look for is encouragement. You know, they're trying to figure out their own lives and and how they're going to carve out their niche. And I think the thing that resonates the most is that they each have to find their own passion, whatever that is, there's no formula. And if they have a strong interest in something, don't let it go. Because there's a lot of people that we encounter throughout our lives. And we all have, I'm sure, where somebody says, oh, no, you can't do that. You know, that's not what's being done or that's not what's current or whatever. That's not popular or like some people used to say, well, are you doing work, you know, based on your culture or your whatever? Why don't you do this or that if you make more money? You know, why don't you do universal themes? Well, like with my work, that is my universal theme because I come from my own cultural perspective. And so that's what my my subjects are about. They're not about somebody else's lives unless unless we collaborate on a project or whatever. So for young people who are just starting out in in their art production or whatever it is that they're going to to do with their lives, I think it's you just have to encourage them to find that. And it doesn't happen overnight. But also to find people with like minds and interests, because that's where you'll be the strongest. Yeah, one of the earlier questions was, is everything going to be OK? So I kind of answer this together and it's like, well, well, yes and no. I mean, we, you know, our history, you know, I was glad how you began this by opening up and acknowledging we're on native land. You know, that's that's huge. Our the history of our country is a violent history. It's racist. It's anti women. You know, anti child. It's anti so much. So it's a hard time, definitely. Believe me, I feel bad, like, God, I thought I was going to leave something better and easier for you on younger people. I was like, sorry, but I'm really, you know, I really do feel that. Like, I thought I thought we were progressing forward, even though we're having some steps back. So OK. But the thing is not the thing is, but one thing is we we have the moment. I mean, you know what you're saying, Valentina is right. Is that all we and the North like all we have is ourselves. And and and whoever our people are. And sometimes it's the family we're born into and outsiders. Sometimes it's not our family we're born into and it's other people. But we have I don't want things I don't try to do anything alone. You know, I really try to show in this, you know, seeing different names popping up in places. It's like, go to what sustains you, supports you, encourages you. Like how I ended. And and and and find those people that you can ask those questions, whatever you need to ask and say, well, you don't know, you know. And instead of sometimes we try to act like we know everything and we don't have any questions and we have just the answers and we're going to do it. And it's great to have goals, but life is not linear, you know, and we make mistakes and we make. And not only do we make mistakes, but sometimes we mess up on purpose. We do bad things, you know, we're human and we have jealousy and anger and pain. And we act out in bad ways. And I say, try to learn from it. Try to learn from it and try to you know, apologize as we need to. You know, ask forgiveness. You know, you may not get it. You may not, you know, and we have to live with it. And I, you know, speaking from experience here and keep doing your art, whatever it is. And I know, believe me, I this book came out 20 years after it should have. And it's I love it what it is. But man, I think about if I had put out an earlier version. Oh, well, can't we can't beat ourselves up forever. So do follow your passion, whatever that is. And writing, dance, painting, walking, gardening, cooking, all of that. Building houses and teach. And you don't have to you don't have to teach in a school. I teach in a community college. I have a lot of friends who teach in a university. And I'm a professor, but I'm more of a teacher. My title is professor, but I'm a teacher. I taught high school. I taught in community arts organizations. And I'm so glad. And I feel like I'm so sorry. I'm such a better teacher now than I was. But I wish I was this good then. But, you know, learn again, learn from it. And and, you know, take time. You know, sometimes we get a work, work, work, work. It's great to work. It's important to work, of course. But and, you know, we've got to live hard, play hard, all that stuff. That's my answer. Thank you. We just have a couple more minutes before the end. But I just wanted to thank you all for coming and talking about your work and your lives. And I didn't really. Yeah. I just remembered I meant to say this at the beginning, but I do have copies of the books if anybody wants to buy it. Yeah. Cool. Any other we need a copy for the library of well, we have missions, salvation missions, but the other one, we've been trying to get it in for like three months. I don't know. We'll figure it out. But anyway, if I can add just one little thing is in terms of maybe the question like, are we going to be OK? And also youth and sort of looking at like, I don't know, a path and just one thing that I'll share is that like to be literal, we're still here. The people who are of the generations like my generation, other generations before me, like we're still here. And the idea that we're these separate islands is not real. And the idea that our projects and that our art and that our work is separate is not true. Instead, what I would say is connect with us that we're not. We're here. And so I do love that people, younger generations, are tapping into history. And then they come up with these weird versions of what happened. Really awesome. Can you give an example? Yes, I can. So I was a part of La Chica Booms walking tour in the mission, displacement tour, which is awesome. And I love La Chica Boom. And what happened was I was a follow up kind of to a walking tour that I co-led through radar productions that was organized by Juliana Lopera. And she's fabulous. And but La Chica Booms walking tour, we had we went to the mission and they were like closed bars. And so my stop was we she did a remix of a clip of Viva 16th. And and we went to like Amelia's and Lexington. And and she's a performance artist and she's fucking weird. And that's awesome. I don't say that in any bad way at all. She's completely fucking awesome. But what she did was she took the clip of Viva 16th, remixed it and put this weird, sad, spooky kumbia song over it and did this dance. And it was really nasty. And she was like humping the walls and she was like it was it was tripped out shit and and not at all history. Like it's not didactic. It's not it was not like, you know, I'm going to teach you about history. This is nor. But instead, she was like, I'm going to have sex with history right here. And it's in my vagina and it's going to get nasty and wet. And it was completely awesome. Wow, it was really, really great. And and some of us were like Augie Robles. My sister was there and and Laura's and some others. And we had a great time. It was not at all our history, though. So I mean, it was connected to the site of Esta Noche. Most of the people who were doing that art had never been in Esta Noche. They were too young. And and if they were there, they weren't there in the way that like Esther and I would hang out at La India Bonita. And like so like when we see something like what La Chica Boom did, it's kind of like, OK, so what I would say is do your thing. Do your tripped out weird ass shit. And also connect with us because we were here and it's not like people have these narratives that we're all dead or that we're like they sold our mouths shut or we can't make fabulous art anymore. Fuck that shit connect with somebody from that time and say what what happened? What was it like? The stories are not linear. They're not clean. But what in the process you will do is actually connect with history and beyond what you're imagining what it was because that's it's cool and trippy and fun, but it's not really connected to what happened at Amelia's or it's not really connected to what happened at different periods of our lives. I think and finally, I think everything is going to be OK. Yes. But I like this connection. Communications will contribute to the conversation. So sometimes it seems like you don't have to know everything. You don't have to be lack of confidence. It's like it's just sometimes our ego gets in the way. OK, and I think and I say that because sometimes people are like too big of ego and sometimes too small of an ego, but it's like just just do it. Just do it, put the ego aside, just do it. And you're going to get the connection and and be part of the conversation. And like you said, like that's that's a great creation. It's not what the original is, but that's that's what we're all doing. We're all doing our own thing. I mean, I remember as to no change, the flying beer bottles. I was there. I would say in terms of like, is it going to be OK? Is a better question is, what am I doing today to make today better? And and that's it. You know, and then do the wake up and do the same thing the next day. And everything else, if we're the world blows up, you can't help that. Or Trump does whatever you can't help that. But you can know, like 10 years down, 10 years later from today, did I did I work my ass off and did I make the world better? Did I laugh? Did I create really great art? Did I help and did I help people on a daily basis? The answer should be yes. Then you're OK. Thank you.