Officials Clash Over Beach Contamination Warnings

Dear Community,

To be honest, it was never a goal of mine to become an executive director. 

It was never a goal of mine to be anything specific in this world, really, other than a force for good.

Looking back, I'd say my first act of activism was when I was 12 years old. On Earth Day, a childhood friend of mine and I ran around our local park hugging trees until people asked us what in the world we were doing – opening up an opportunity to start a conversation about land stewardship and environmental justice. Even as a child, with just a tiny window into the universe’s great complexities, I knew my actions could make a difference – and that possibility, that passion, sparked a fire inside my chest. 

Thirty-four years later, that fire is still burning bright.

While pursuing an education in social service work, I carried those learnings out of the classroom into the community with years of anti-oppression work addressing gender-based violence, environmental justice, and LGBTQ+ liberation. My contributions evolved and transcended any one role: I was a community organizer, a radical cheerleader, a crisis worker, a peer counselor, a community mediator, an anarcha-feminist, and essentially every level of nonprofit worker. I won’t try to sugar-coat it: I was ANGRY. Both terrified and somehow still fearless, I spent my time trying to dismantle oppressive systems – smashing, breaking, screaming, and crying.  

(I send all of my gratitude and fortitude to those still screaming and smashing – don’t be surprised if you find me in the streets marching next to you one of these days.)

And yet, a while ago, I began to wonder what we were building. Yes, it’s true that so much of how this world works is not for us, and there is so much to change, to demand, to dismantle. Is there a better way? And how do we build it? 

After all these years of organizing and deep engagement in movement work at all levels – all these years of fighting – this is what I’ve learned:

The most radical thing we can do is find each other. 

Systems of oppression strengthen their power by isolating and dividing us; building and creating community rooted in radical welcome is an act of resistance.

Sometimes it seems this simple truth got lost somewhere along the way, but we can still return home to it. At the core, that’s what community is – a home, for all of us. 

When I think about home, I remember that as a child, I felt the weight of my parents’ financial struggles, yet also the quiet everyday miracles they created for my brother and me. Born from the projects of Chicago, their love and tenacity, interlaced with the compassionate hands of community, held us. Despite all the hardships, whatever we had, we shared; whatever we needed, we received.

There were times we should have been evicted from our apartment, but community kept us sheltered. And had we lost our home, I didn’t fear the fall – because I knew we would land in the warmth of an aunt’s, an uncle’s, a family friend’s small apartment, crowded, sure, but still together, still safe. Even then, I knew what remains true now: our community would always hold me, feed me, love me, and lift me back into the light. With the support of my community – the steady heartbeat of hidden embers – that fire in my chest will never go out. 

And that is the power of us. I believe with every fiber of my being that we can build a community that, with all its messiness and differences, is whole, is connected, and lifts each other up – not in spite of our nuances, but because of them. A community that works every day at practicing kindness, empathy, and connection with each other. Radical welcome in these times is an act of resistance, and it is the only thing that will lead us to collective liberation.

This is what we do best at the San Francisco LGBT Community Center. From the moment you walk through our doors, you will be greeted with warmth and empathy, love and curiosity, support and gratitude. We can only do this together, and all it takes is for each of us to show up with open hearts and open minds.

If there is one thing I want you to take away from this, it’s to show up – this year and every year. Give your community the gift of your presence and give yourself the gift of becoming a part of something bigger. The gift of someone who will always have your back, who will meet you where you’re at, however you show up, who sees you and cares about you just because you’re you. We’ll be here, ready to share this moment with you. 

Jennifer Valles, a queer femme, officially started as the executive director of the San Francisco LGBT Community Center January 1. She will see her first day on the job Monday, January 5. For more information, visit sfcenter.org.