San Diego, CA
On its 50th anniversary, San Diego Pride is looking back and ahead
Nobody knows for sure what day it happened, how long it lasted and how many people took part. But sometime in 1974 — most likely around the fifth anniversary of the Stonewall riots in New York City in late June — a group of gay men and lesbians marched down the sidewalks of downtown San Diego to call for gay rights.
Fifty years later, San Diego Pride has grown into one of the largest LGBTQ celebrations in America. Over the years, the annual protest marches and political rallies of the 1970s and ’80s transitioned into celebratory Pride parades and jubilant and inclusive outdoor festivals.
Today, more than 250,000 people, including thousands who travel here from all over the United States, attend San Diego’s Pride festivities, which this year culminate next weekend with the San Diego Pride Parade in Hillcrest and the San Diego Pride Festival in Balboa Park.
For those who haven’t studied the history of the Pride movement in America, San Diego Pride events today seem like merely a festive celebration of self-identity. But for those who have lived the experience, Pride is also about freedom, equality and the ongoing fight to experience life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness without government and religious intervention.
For this article we spoke to the leader and archivist for Lambda Archives of San Diego, which since 1987 has collected, preserved and shared the history of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer people in San Diego and Imperial counties and Northern Baja California. We also heard from two longtime San Diegans who shared their Pride memories with us for this story.
First we hear from Lambda Archives Managing Director Nicole Verdes and Archivist Dana Wiegand, who talked about the 50-year history of Pride in San Diego. Their comments have been slightly edited for clarity.
Q: Fifty years ago, San Diego was now as a small Navy town. How did it compare to other U.S. cities in its treatment of LGBTQ people in the 1970s?
Dana Wiegand: San Diego was equally as conservative, especially as a Navy town. The (people) faced the same struggles as in any other city in America. We do see that a lot of these communities formed in cities that served as ports for the military. Also, a lot of the change-making activists who were in the military would travel to other community hotspots and speak to the activists there for inspiration on how to build that community in San Diego.
Q: Before Stonewall and the first Pride marches, what was public life line for members of the LGBTQ community in San Diego?
Nicole Verdes: Prior to the first Pride marches, lives were lived in fear and secrecy. Bars and clubs were among the safe spaces to celebrate and be with lovers, but those safe spaces were often subjected to frequent police raids. If they were dancing or sitting too close together, they were targeted. Raids resulted in arrests and public exposure. There were significant consequences for their jobs and families.
Also there have been strict cross-dressing ordinances prohibiting dressing against gender norms, like butch lesbians who dressed more masculine. In San Diego, that ordinance was municipal code 56.19. It became law in 1966. You couldn’t appear in a public place in apparel customarily worn by the opposite sex. It wasn’t repealed until 1997. The cross-dressing ban in National City didn’t get repealed until 2020. A local activist and member of the LGBT community, Coyote Moon, found out by accident the law was still on the books and she stepped up to work with elected officials.
Q: The first city-approved and widely-covered San Diego Pride march took place in 1975. But the first, informal march happened in 1974. What can you tell me about it?
Wiegand: The actual participants in the first march in 1974 is hard to pin down. There were only a few periodicals at the time and they were organized by ad hoc committees. But we know that the first permitted march in 1975 had 400 people.
Even before San Diego had their permitted Pride marches, we had Gay-Ins. Nobody could get a permit. There were too many barriers and the people in charge weren’t allowed to let gay people march in the streets. In 1971, ’72 and ’73, they’d gather for community picnics. Before 1975, when the police chief wrote a permit, the community couldn’t march in the streets so they had to march on the sidewalks. Getting a permit to get a Pride march was a complicated process into the 1980s.
Q: What kind of public response did early Pride marchers encounter in San Diego and how has it changed over the years?
Verdes: In the earlier marches, some people wore paper bags over their heads to protect their identity.
They’d have opposition people showing up to antagonize them verbally. In 1994, a previous mayor of San Diego organized a group of protestors called The Normal People. They wanted to march (in the Pride parade) in political opposition to the homosexual agenda. Former Mayor Hedgecock said their exclusion (from the parade) violated the city’s Human Dignity Ordinance.
In 1999, the theme for Pride was “celebrate the past and create the future.” A tear gas bomb was thrown into the crowd at 10th and University aimed at the Family Matters contingent. It was chaos.
You have people who show up on the sidelines who are Fundamentalists carrying signs like “Fags burn in hell.” That still happens today. You have more organized targeted incidents. San Diego Pride takes very seriously the safety of the people marching in the parade. The antagonistic aspects of it never goes away.
Q: Can you tell me about Lambda Archives and its work?
Verdes: Initially Lambda was started by Jess Jessop, who was a nurse medic in the Vietnam War. He organized the Gay Liberation Front at SDSU and was very active in the 1980s when he pivoted toward AIDS and the lack of government response.
He took the initiative to collect materials to preserve our history. A lot of people who had AIDS, their families would clean out their houses and throw away all of their personal effects. So he jumped into circumvent that and he collected photos, protest signs and other items.
We were entirely volunteer-led until we got our nonprofit status in 1987. We’ve grown to three full-time employees and two part-time employees.
Dana is digitizing the collection. We have year-round youth programs and oral history and scholarship programs that donate funding to queer students at community colleges and trade schools. We have also grown with an intentional focus on our collection of information on queer and trans communities of color.
Weigand: We have collections made up of thousands and thousands of documents, photos, textiles, books, memorabilia and ephemera, which are items not meant to be saved like buttons, pins and flyers. They’re objects our community views as part of our collective history. I want to develop more widely accessible digital archives.
Verdes: Our mission is to collect and preserve and share the LGBTQ heritage for San Diego and Imperial Valley. But the work we do here extends beyond that.
A couple of years ago, we were contacted by a playwright in Britain who learned about the Blood Sisters (a group of women from San Diego’s Democratic Party caucus who organized blood drives for AIDS patients, since gay men were banned from giving blood). We connected her with the original force behind the Blood Sisters.
Our collecting scope is local, but the work we do here can expand to places you wouldn’t think of.
Pride memories from two San Diegans
We asked U-T readers to share their memories of what Pride means to them. Here are two of the mini-essays that were submitted.
Dana Harwood, Mission Hills
When I reflect on “What Pride Means to Me” I always think about my mom’s incredible love and support.
I came out to my mom, Bobbi Harwood, over 30 years ago and although at first she was shocked, confused and worried, she soon found PFLAG (support group for friends and family of the LGBTQ community). She began attending meetings and talking to people who helped her learn about the diverse and incredible LGBTQ community in San Diego.
The following year, my mom marched in her first San Diego Pride parade with PFLAG, carrying a colorful sign she made that proudly stated “I LOVE MY LESBIAN DAUGHTER”. She later served as the president of the San Diego chapter of PFLAG and in 2006 she was named Pride Friend of the Year and was honored during the parade and festival.
My mom and I marched in the San Diego Pride Parade for over 25 years. The day of the Pride parade became her favorite day of the year. Although my mom hasn’t marched in the parade for a few years now, her love for me and her support of the LGBTQ community is as strong as ever.
Patric Stillman, Hillcrest
Pride, for me, is a profound celebration of identity, resilience and community.
Coming out is a deeply personal journey, marked by moments of self-discovery and courage. It’s a process that, while intensely individual, is also immensely communal. This duality highlights the core of Pride: the embrace of one’s true self and the collective strength found in a supportive community.
Over time, my understanding of Pride has evolved. Initially, it was about asserting my identity in the face of societal expectations. Today, it has grown into a broader vision of acceptance and equality. The positive impact of love has been transformative, fostering greater empathy and understanding. In the face of hate, bigotry and ignorance, our community stands as a beacon of hope and solidarity. It is within this community that we find the strength to persist and the love to thrive.
As Americans, we are endowed with the right to pursue happiness — a right that is fundamental and should be universally respected. Pride embodies this pursuit, advocating for the recognition and respect of our happiness, our love and our identities. It is a reminder that our quest for happiness is valid and that it deserves to be valued by everyone.
Thought the years, Pride has always been about joy and celebration. There is something profoundly political in our ability to dance with those awe love, to celebrate our lives openly and without fear. Dancing together, we embody the spirit of what we call LGBTQ+ Pride — defiant, joyous and unapologetically ourselves.
Stillman’s The Studio Door art gallery is presenting its 7th “PROUD+” exhibition through Aug. 3 at 3865 Fourth Ave., San Diego. thestudiodoor.com
San Diego Pride Parade & Festival
Parade: 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday. Begins at the Hillcrest Pride Flag at 1500 University Ave. and travels west on University, south on Sixth Avenue, left on Balboa Drive and ends at Laurel Street.
Festival: 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Saturday and July 21 in Balboa Park at Sixth Avenue and Laurel Street. Tickets are $38 for a two-day pass. Order online at sdpride.org/event/san-diego-pride-festival
For a full schedule of Pride events, visit https://sdpride.org/events/
Originally Published:
San Diego — Before we see elephants at Elephant Valley in the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, we come face to face with destruction, only the wreckage is beautiful. A long, winding path takes guests around and under felled trees. Aged gray tree hunks form arches, for instance, over bridges that tower over clay-colored paths with hoof prints.
The design is meant to reorient us, to take us on a trail walked not by humans but traversed and carved by elephants, a creature still misunderstood, vilified and hunted for its cataclysmic-like ability to reshape land, and sometimes communities.
“It starts,” says Kristi Burtis, vice president of wildlife care for the Safari Park, “by telling the story that elephants are ecosystem engineers.”
Elephant Valley will open March 5 as the newest experience at the Escondido park, its aim to bring guests closer than ever to the zoo’s eight elephants, which range in age from 7 to 36, while more heavily focusing on conservation. The centerpiece of the 13-acre-plus parkland is a curved bridge overlooking a savanna, allowing elephants to walk under guests. But there are also nooks such as a cave that, while not previewed at a recent media event, will allow visitors to view elephants on their level.
In a shift from, say, the Safari Park’s popular tram tour, there are no fences and visible enclosures. Captive elephants remain a sometimes controversial topic, and the zoo’s herd is a mix of rescues and births, but the goal was to create a space where humans are at once removed and don’t impede on the relative free-roaming ability of the animals by keeping guests largely elevated. As an example of just how close people can get to the herd, there was a moment of levity at the event when one of the elephants began flinging what was believed to be a mixture of dirt and feces up onto the bridge.
“Our guests are going to be able to see the hairs on an elephant,” Burtis says. “They can see their eyes. They can see the eyelashes. They can see how muscular their trunks are. It’s really going to be a different experience.”
Elephant Valley, complete with a multistory lodge with open-air restaurants and bars, boasts a natural design that isn’t influenced by the elephant’s African home so much as it is in conversation with it. The goal isn’t to displace us, but to import communal artistry — Kenyan wood and beadwork can be found in the pathways, resting spaces and more — as a show of admiration rather than imitation.
“We’re not going to pretend that we’re taking people to Africa,” says Fri Forjindam, now a creative executive with Universal’s theme parks but previously a lead designer on Elephant Valley via her role as a chief development officer at Mycotoo, a Pasadena-based experiential design firm.
“That is a slippery slope of theming that can go wrong really fast,” she adds. “How do we recognize where we are right now, which is near San Diego? How do we populate this plane with plants that are indigenous to the region? The story of coexistence is important. We’re not extracting from Africa, we’re learning. We’re not extracting from elephants, we’re sharing information.”
But designing a space that is elephant-first yet also built for humans presented multiple challenges, especially when the collaborating teams were aiming to construct multiple narratives around the animals. Since meetings about Elephant Valley began around 2019, the staff worked to touch on themes related to migration and conservation. And there was also a desire to personalize the elephants.
“Where can we also highlight each of the elephants by name, so they aren’t just this huge herd of random gray creatures?” Forjindam says. “You see that in the lodge.”
That lodge, the Mkutano House — a phrase that means “gathering” in Swahili — should provide opportunities for guests to linger, although zoo representatives say reservations are recommended for those who wish to dine in the space (there will also be a walk-up, to-go window). Menus have yet to be released, but the ground floor of the structure, boasting hut-like roofing designed to blend into the environment, features close views of the elephant grazing pool as well as an indoor space with a centerpiece tree beneath constellation-like lighting to mimic sunrises and sunsets.
Throughout there are animal wood carvings and beadwork, the latter often hung from sculptures made of tree branches. The ceiling, outfitted with colorful, cloth tapestries designed to move with the wind, aims to create less friction between indoor and outdoor environments.
There are, of course, research and educational goals of the space as well. The Safari Park works, for instance, with the Northern Rangelands Trust and Loisaba Conservancy in Kenya, with an emphasis on studying human-elephant conflict and finding no-kill resolutions. Nonprofits and conservation groups estimate that there are today around 415,000 elephants in Africa, and the African savanna elephant is listed as endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature.
Studies of the zoo’s young elephants is shared with the Reteti Elephant Sanctuary in the hopes of delivering care to elephant youth to prevent orphanage. Additionally, the Safari Park has done extensive examination into the endotheliotropic herpes virus. “The data that we collect from elephants here, you can’t simply get from elephants in the wild,” Burtis says.
One of the two entrances to Elephant Valley is outfitted with bee boxes; bees are known to be a natural elephant deterrent and can help in preventing the animals from disrupting crops or communities. To encourage more natural behavior, the plane is outfitted with timed feeders in an attempt to encourage movement throughout the acreage and establish a level of real-life unpredictability in hunting for resources. Water areas have been redesigned with ramps and steps to make it easier for the elephants to navigate.
With Elephant Valley, Forjindam says the goal was to allow visitors to “observe safely in luxury — whatever that is — but not from a position of power, more as a cohabitor of the Earth, with as much natural elements as possible. It’s not to impose dominance. Ultimately, it needed to feel natural. It couldn’t feel like a man-made structure, which is an antiquated approach to any sort of safari experience where animals are the product, a prize. In this experience, this is the elephant’s home.”
And the resulting feel of Elephant Valley is that we, the paying customers, are simply their house guests.
A man in the Mission Bay Park community of San Diego was fatally struck Sunday morning by a hit-and run vehicle, authorities said.
The victim was also struck by a second vehicle and that motorist stayed at the scene to cooperate with officers, the San Diego Police Department reported.
The initial crash occurred at about 2:20 a.m. Sunday in the area of West Mission Bay and Sea World drives.
The pedestrian was in the southbound lanes of the 2000 block of West Mission Bay Drive when he was struck by a silver vehicle also in the southbound lanes. That vehicle fled the scene, continuing southbound, police said.
A 28-year-old man driving his vehicle southbound ran over the downed pedestrian.
“That driver remained at the scene and is not DUI,” according to a police statement. “The pedestrian was pronounced deceased at the scene.”
Anyone with information regarding the initial crash was urged to call Crime Stoppers at 888-580-8477.
San Diego County is known for having wet, cold weather in February. But it had numerous hot spells this year. And when the month ended on Saturday a high pressure system produced heat that broke or tied temperature records in nine communities from the desert to the sea, the National Weather Service said.
The most notable temperature occurred in Borrego Springs, which reached 99, five degrees higher than the previous record for Feb. 28, set in 1986. The 99 reading is also the highest temperature ever recorded in Borrego in February.
Escondido reached 95, tying a record set in 1901.
El Cajon reached 92, three degrees higher than the record set in 2009.
Ramona topped out at 88, five degrees higher than the record set in 2009.
Alpine hit 88, four degrees higher the record set in 1986.
Campo reached 87, four degrees higher than the record set in 1999.
Vista hit 86, four degrees higher than the record set in 2020.
Chula Vista reached 84, one degree higher than the record set in 2020.
Lake Cuyamaca rose to 76, four degrees higher than the record set in 1986.
Forecasters say the weather is not likely to broadly produce new highs on Sunday. Cooler air is moving to the coast, and on Monday, San Diego’s high will only reach 67, a degree above normal.
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