Pigeons fighting for their future, our future

I watch two pigeons eat my fallen pumpkin loaf as I sit at a table on what feels like the world's windiest street. I film them with a small laugh as they begin to scrap and goth each other for the load — I think I heard a small coo but it’s so noisy I am unsure.

My shoes have come untied for the third time in a row and I’ve quickly grown tired of having to fix it.

We’ve finished three of our five Castro location interviews — all with varying levels of knowledge about the city’s opinions on anti-trans legislation. 

The first person we find directs us to someone else in the store when they say they’re not into politics, that they don’t like to look.

It’s almost shocking when the one we do speak to says they honestly don’t know much and might not be the best person to talk to. Out of everyone we interview, he has lived here the longest. He has seen the most and lived more queer history than others we find — and he still didn’t think he knew much.

It’s a complicated series of emotions to have in a place like this. This city and state have fought so long for their rights and happiness, it’s not unfair they wouldn’t like to look. The state of politics is so terrifying for queer people I can’t say I’ve never purposefully avoided such topics. A third pigeon has joined.

It’s a strange mix of happiness, to be overjoyed at such an openly queer space existing, and anger that it does not exist in this capacity elsewhere. I am lucky to have found such a welcoming community in my college years but I know that can be a rare case — I am extremely lucky to enter San Francisco not once, but twice. Home is different, has always been different. Queer spaces in such open capacity are rare outside of June or October. We’re sectioned off into our specific clubs or organizations, with the local queer friendly trinket shop or pride pin visible in public. I am still thankful for these things, it is more than some communities ever get.

Despite its queer freedom, San Francisco is not a perfect city. It struggles with homelessness, specifically within the trans community. Police violence is still ever present. Politicians are trying to undermine protective laws put in place in a fight for our rights not so dissimilar to this one decades ago. It is not a perfect city but it is not a stagnant city — it is a city of change and community. They have rebuilt themselves from heartbreak and devastation and are preparing to do it again — preparing to fight alongside all of us for the rights of our kin. Even if it’s hard to look at.

The pigeons are in full fight mode now as one crumb remains. One of them is victorious as it finishes the final bite of my dropped pumpkin loaf. 

I leave soon after, having accidentally started a scrap between birds and with new hope in my heart.