Dyke March: S.F. gathering celebrates gender identity.
The early morning drizzle gave way to rainbows in all forms over Dolores Park on Saturday, as revelers in multicolored tutus, capes and feather boas crowded the park for San Francisco’s annual Dyke March.
Thousands danced, lounged, waved flags and posed for pictures during the afternoon gathering, both celebrating the lesbian community and rallying against a political climate many described as a direct attack on their queerness.
Dykes on Bikes, the group of lesbian motorcycle riders that started the Dyke March, lined up on 18th Street just before 5 p.m., gunning their bikes as the crowd cheered them on. Signs along the barricades asked that dyke allies march on the side while leaving the middle portion for the dykes themselves, keeping in line with the main theme of this year’s march of “take up your space.”
The theme, organizers said, was about reclaiming identity, community and the right to a safe space to be who you are for all people across the gender and sexuality spectrum.
“We have forces in this culture that are trying to erase us, erase who we are,” said Angel Adeyoha, 44. “We are trying to take that back.”
In the middle of the park, Adeyoha and her wife, Koja, carved out a swath of land, marking it with yellow crime scene tape that read “Dykes Only.” Adeyoha explained that they had created a space for only those who identified as dykes, as a way for them to return to the roots of the Dyke March — to not just reclaim their identity as dykes but also to celebrate it.
While the term “dyke” was once used as a pejorative term to describe lesbians, it has since become a rallying cry and political call for those in the queer community.
“Dyke is a self-selected term,” said Vanessa Rochelle Lewis, who emceed the rally, “It’s not attached to anatomy. It’s not attached to who you love. No one is excluded if you identify as a dyke.”
Lewis led the crowd in chanting, “Take up our space! Take up our space!”
“We all deserve to be here,” she later told the crowd. “Why do you deserve to be here?”
“Because I have a fat, nonbinary body, and I can run around in my underwear here,” one person shouted to loud cheers and applause.
“What about you?” Lewis asked a young woman in rosepattern leggings and a flower crown.
“I’m here for all the bi dykes,” she said. “We’re here, we’re bi, and we’re still dykes.”
Rosabelle Oribello, 32, knows just how important it is to have a “specifically queer, dyke space.” She said it’s something people born straight and happy with the body they were born into have trouble understanding.
“As a queer person of color, there are spaces I’m not invited into,” she said. “I work in tech. I work with mostly white dudes. As accepting as they are, they say things and do things that I’m just not privy to.
“Having your own space, it helps foster that community spirit, that kinship,” she said. “It helps with that sense of identity. That’s important because it helps you own it.”
And “own it” they will — a Supreme Court ruling last week that deemed it unconstitutional to prohibit registration of a trademark based on “disparaging language” was central in this year’s celebration because the decision meant that Dykes on Bikes could finally trademark their name, which previously had been deemed “disparagement.”
While much of the focus Saturday was on pushing back and reclaiming identity, the usual jubilation that surrounds the city’s Pride celebrations was not be dampened. Partners of all sexual orientations and gender identities zigzagged through the crowds, hand in hand. A march volunteer proposed to her girlfriend on stage.
Just before the Dykes on Bikes took off in a flurry of rainbow flags and bubbles, Jayne DeBattista, 28, stood with her arms wrapped around her girlfriend of seven years, Jess Bier, 36.
“We’re marching because we’re getting married in two weeks,” DeBattista said, smiling widely. “We are so happy we have the right to do that.”
For younger generations, being able to witness the simple happiness of being true to one’s identity and sexual orientation was significant. Saturday’s march was the first Pride experience for one 13year-old.
The 13-year-old identifies as pansexual and nonbinary and goes by the pronouns of “them” and “they.” But Saturday, they were just a human being in a rainbow cape, dancing with friends to a performance of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
“Everybody here is just totally themselves,” they said. “It makes me happy.”