When I moved to this area of San Francisco two years ago, people in the neighborhood were bitching about hipsters. They weren’t even really that ridiculous of hipsters, just artsy folk who’d been priced (or annoyed) out of the Mission and came over to the Western Addition to do their own thing. They seemed to live in harmony with the area’s original residents, creating dialog and learning about the rich jazzy past of the neighborhood. Art walks and neighborhood gatherings reflected this funky, eclectic, non-douchey vibe.
I don’t know what’s happened in the last few months, but either the hipsters shaved, or they really have fled, along with the original residents, OR all have been body-snatched by popped-collared, fake-tanned (and sometimes fake-titted), vacuous assholes.
Yes, I know it’s not very “tolerant” of me to use such intolerant descriptors, but you’ve done nothing to build the community or engage with its history or even just be NICE to the people who live here.
You ruined my favorite bar, The Page. What used to be a place where I could just go grab a quick drink on the way home, where I could sit unbothered, or talk to the random neighbor next to me, has become infested with plastic people on parade. The last time I went in for a cocktail, a group of grown-up Regina Georges literally pushed themselves into my personal space, actually rolling their eyes that I had the audacity to be sitting on a barstool apparently near their bar territory.
You ruined my favorite burrito place, Little Chihuahua. The community tables (where a gal could previously enjoy a quick dinner alone or with a friend) have been taken over by your huge groups talking loudly on topics ranging from men talking about how awesome they are to a quiet date or “girls night” groups discussing how best to land a husband. Seriously. I’ve heard these conversations. What the FUCK people? Do you listen to yourselves?
And as of this morning, you’re trying to ruin my favorite yoga studion, Yoga Garden.
While waiting for our instructor to arrive this morning for the 7 AM class, the students were all waiting in the lobby. There was a new group of there, doing a “yoga challenge” (or as a friend later coined “broga”). Two of the guys said a cheery good morning to each other and what happened next floored me.
A third male friend said, “Bros! That was the GAYEST good morning I’ve ever heard.” Then proceeded to do a limp wrist/lisp “gay” impression, that I haven’t seen since middle school in the 90s, nevermind NEVER in a tolerant city like San Francisco, and nevermind IN A YOGA STUDIO.
Needless to say, I was SHOCKED, disgusted and sick to my stomach.
And to top it all off, after class, one of them walked up to our instructor and gave her a high five.
(Which made him easily identifiable when I filed my complaint).
Look, I know we live in the second most densely populated city in the U.S. I know our city is in a huge economic boom right now and attracting residents of all types. But I also know, I (and loads of others) were drawn here because this city has a reputation for welcoming the marginalized, celebrating diversity, being KIND and COMMUNAL. I’m happy to welcome your bro-ness, if you’re happy to welcome all the rainbows, unicorns, working class, musicians, artists, hobos, characters, etc. that make this city unique. Even though I’m mad as Hell after this morning, I know people aren’t naturally inclined to your kind of behavior. At the end of the day, I encourage you, Divisaderbro, to non-conform and let your freak flags fly.
If that doesn’t work, I hear there are places where the weather is MUCH better that may work out for you.