San Francisco, CA
In San Francisco, a Gallerist Followed Her Heart to a New Apartment for Around $1 Million
If her parents had had their way, Sierra Nguyen might still be training to become an anesthesiologist.
The child of Vietnamese refugees who escaped after the fall of Saigon, Ms. Nguyen grew up in Martinez, a small city in Northern California. She excelled in the sciences and got a scholarship to Saint Mary’s College of California, where an act of filial disobedience set her on an unexpected course.
After years of grueling labs, she began studying for medical school exams. But one day she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror holding one of the thick textbooks.
The first thought she had: “I don’t want to do this.”
The second came in the form of a poem by the Sufi mystic Rumi, which she had studied in high school: “Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.”
[Did you recently buy a home? We want to hear from you. Email: thehunt@nytimes.com]
“And so I did a complete 180, broke my parents’ hearts and, as clichéd as it sounds, I followed my own,” she said. “And I found myself at an art gallery.”
So Ms. Nguyen, now 28, became an assistant at a gallery in San Francisco, a job that involved vacuuming, changing printer cartridges and getting salads for her boss, for $15 an hour in the beginning. She struggled to pay her rent, much less save enough for a down payment on a home in a city where the typical two-bedroom condominium goes for $1.2 million, according to Zillow.
But her gamble paid off: She landed a job at Dolby Chadwick Gallery. She had been there mere months when the pandemic shut down the city, and the world. Into that void, the gallery owner and her new hire began a collaboration — a daily email to the gallery’s listserv that paired a poem and an artwork from the gallery’s inventory. Sales went through the roof.
Ms. Nguyen was promoted to gallery manager, and then associate director and, finally, director, a position that came with a percentage of the art she sold. As the years passed, she managed to set aside about $230,000 for a home purchase. Even then, it was unclear what, if anything, she could afford to buy.
Last fall, she called Pattie Lawton, an agent with Sotheby’s International Realty, and sheepishly asked if she might be able to find a two-bedroom in San Francisco with an $850,000 budget — about $350,000 less than the median price of a two-bedroom.
Ms. Lawton showed up with pink streaks in her hair and a can-do attitude. The properties she suggested included condominiums as well as tenancy-in-common listings, or T.I.C., a kind of group homeownership that is common in San Francisco and more affordable, but comes with added risk.
With a T.I.C., a group of people — either friends or strangers — enter into an agreement to buy a property. They share the legal title, and the agreement spells out the percentage of the building that each has the exclusive right to use. (This arrangement differs from that of a cooperative, where residents own shares in a private corporation that, in turns, owns and manages the building.)
Andy Sirkin, a lawyer whose firm, SirkinLaw APC, focuses on real estate co-ownership, said that a T.I.C. is “like a marriage,” whereby multiple owners share a single parcel of undivided property. The city sends a single property tax bill to the building, and it’s up to the owners to divvy it up.
“There are more shared obligations in a T.I.C. than in a condo,” Mr. Sirkin said. “That raises the level of risk.”
When this form of ownership was created, the owners also shared a group mortgage, so if one party stopped paying, the others were on the hook for those payments. But beginning in the 2000s, a form of financing known as a fractional mortgage allowed buyers to obtain separate mortgages on a fraction of a T.I.C. building, making it possible for someone like Ms. Nguyen to get an individual mortgage, which mitigates the risk somewhat.
As Ms. Nguyen began her search, her parents took the $200,000 they had saved for her college education — money she didn’t need, thanks to the scholarships she had earned — and put it toward her down payment, increasing it to $430,000.
Among her options:
Find out what happened next by answering these two questions:
San Francisco, CA
First of its kind queer museum in San Francisco Chinatown amplifies Chinese LGBTQ artists
On one side of the world, Xiangqi Chen can be punished for her LGBTQ+ activism. But on the other, the activist and artist is lauded as a trailblazer — the architect behind the first of its kind Chinese queer art museum.
The irony that she left her home in China and found a public platform for her LGBTQ+ artistic expression in San Francisco’s Chinatown — the country’s oldest — is not lost on her.
“Here in San Francisco Chinatown, I still continued my journey and met so many like-minded community members and friends,” Chen told The Associated Press through an interpreter. “It kind of actually encouraged me and gave me lots of strength to do what I know is my mission, my calling.”
The OUT Museum opened with a rainbow-ribbon cutting at the end of May — between Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month and Pride Month. Situated across from the Chinese Historical Society of America Museum, the bilingual museum is giving recognition to a demographic that has long felt invisible. It seems like an ideal fit in the progressive city at a time when some cities, states and the federal government are restricting or banning certain LGBTQ+ rights.
To start, the museum is only open on Saturdays and is one room with fewer than a dozen artworks by artists from China and the Chinese diaspora. But there is hope to expand the museum’s exhibits and days of operation.
Museum allows Chinese artists to fully tell their stories
While still living in China, Chen launched a Kickstarter for a proposed museum six years ago — more than 2,000 donated on the platform. But she knew it likely wouldn’t be built there. In 2022, she came to the U.S. on a J-1 visa as a visiting scholar at Georgetown University. By 2024, Chen gained attention in San Francisco for her role in an exhibition at the Asian Art Museum. That led to a residency with the Chinese Culture Center of San Francisco.
The organization was “proud to be the incubating space for the OUT Museum prototype,” executive director Jenny Leung said in an email.
The level of support that followed amazed Chen.
“I got so many chances to connect with the local Asian American queer community and even the Chinatown community in general,” she said.
Interest soon followed from longtime collaborators and younger artists who reached out via Instagram. They are represented in the inaugural exhibition, which includes photography, zines and an interactive installation where visitors use thread to trace their self-discovery journey with gender and sexuality.
For Hong Kong-born artist Dixon Ngai, this museum offers an outlet to tell his story as mainstream media typically overlook the Chinese LGBTQ+ community. He contributed a hand-painted, Chinese porcelain wine pot inspired by the Cantonese opera “Di Nü Hua,” or “The Flower Princess.”
Ngai said the OUT Museum, unlike other exhibitions, is very specific to the experience of the Chinese queer community, allowing “more people to see our voice.”
Museum affirms evolving attitudes toward LGBTQ+ presence
Since the museum’s opening, Chen has been “one hundred percent moved” by unexpected feedback from one particular demographic: Chinese immigrants, both queer and straight, who have lived in California for decades.
A 60-year-old transgender man who visited shared how he immigrated to the U.S. in the 1970s for crucial gender-affirming care. There was also a mother looking to connect with her gay adult son.
“She later emailed me saying that she’s so grateful for all the events the art museum has organized,” Chen said. “Her son came out to her, and she’s very proud of her son and she wants to express gratitude.”
These reactions are proof the museum is elevating the visibility of Chinese, Chinese American and Asian American LGBTQ+ people, said author and activist Helen Zia, a museum advisory board member. It also shows how attitudes have shifted, she said, as it would have been difficult to mount even 20 years ago.
“There were Asian churches who would have demonstrations week after week with thousands of people just condemning same-sex couples,” Zia said, recalling the response from the Chinese community in 2008 when she handed out pro-gay marriage flyers in Oakland’s Chinatown. “We got people yelling at us, spitting.”
Later that year, Zia and her wife were among many couples who wed after the California Supreme Court rejected a same-sex marriage ban. Even today, she says the museum’s presence sends a needed message.
“See our humanity,” Zia said. “Here’s the beautiful art that we create and imagine and contribute to the world.”
LGBTQ+ life in mainland China
versus the US
Being homosexual in China means living under the radar and discriminatory policies. In 2001, the Chinese Psychiatric Association stopped listing homosexuality as a mental disorder. But LGBTQ+ couples still cannot marry or adopt. They are also limited in their right to publicly advocate. When Chen lived in Shanghai, she ran a grassroots center for lesbians. One of the reasons she left was because during the pandemic the government started cracking down on spaces for LGBTQ+ activism.
She likely could not even put on an art show, let alone a museum.
“From 2013 to 2015, that kind of art exhibition by queer artists (could) exist, but only if you don’t explicitly show or tell the audience that your work or yourself identify as queer or LGBTQ,” Chen said. “But not nowadays.”
That Shanghai center is how Zia met Chen a decade ago. Zia was doing research for a book and toured the center.
“She’s been just incredibly brave in China, creating a center that attracted a lot of state attention,” Zia said.
A key difference Chen has noticed among American-born Chinese LGBTQ+ people versus those in China is they are more educated about gender and sexual identity and have more access to support.
Under the second Trump administration, LGBTQ+ rights are increasingly under threat. President Donald Trump’s administration has targeted gender-affirming care and sought to ban transgender people in the military. Some anti-Pride lawmakers recently proposed “Nuclear Family Month.”
San Francisco also recently dealt with shifting LGBTQ+ attitudes after Giants baseball players wrote Bible verses on Pride Night hats.
Nevertheless, the Chinese artists say the social landscape here is a breath of fresh air.
“Here in San Francisco, in California, we enjoy the air of freedom, there is equal human rights, there is security,” Ngai said. “So, we are very proud to be ourselves.”
This Sunday, Chen will proudly walk in her first San Francisco Pride Parade. She will plug the museum while dressed fittingly as a woman warrior from a Cantonese opera.
“I think completing this opening will be a start for me. It’s not the end,” Chen said. “We still have a long way to go.”
___
Tang reported from Phoenix.
San Francisco, CA
Giants open to moving big names before Trade Deadline
San Francisco, CA
San Francisco Supervisor Jackie Fielder to return following mental health leave
San Francisco Supervisor Jackie Fielder will resume her duties next week after taking a three-month leave of absence due to mental health.
“I’m coming clear-eyed and grounded and eager to serve in this role again,” Fielder said in a video posted to social media Tuesday.
Fielder was first elected in 2024 to serve District 9, which includes the Mission District and Bernal Heights and Portola neighborhoods. In late March of this year, her staffers announced she was taking a leave of absence to address an “acute personal health crisis” after missing a few weeks of Board of Supervisors meetings.
“I left the work that I love so much, not because I wanted to, but because my mental health demanded it, and I say that with no shame,” she said.
In the video statement, Fielder mentioned that the pressure of serving as a supervisor took a toll on her mental health.
“I’ve often felt like the weight of this district and city is on my shoulders, and I, through this leave, have had the silver lining of understanding that it never has,” she said. “I was going 100 miles an hour since early 2023 when I started the campaign for supervisor, and being a grassroots candidate is a lot of elbow grease.”
Fielder’s staff continued some of the work in her district while she was gone. She thanked her colleagues and Mayor Daniel Lurie for their support and allowing her to be excused from meetings.
Fielder will return to work Monday and appear at the June 30 board meeting. She is also expected to host listening sessions in her district through July.
“I am an example that it is possible to come back and heal,” she said. “I could not be more honored to serve and more ready to serve.”
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