"My first 48 Hills gala was a bit surreal, and not in a typical SF way. There was a "calm-before-the-storm" feeling that lurked in the background of all the revelry. That was the same day we'd heard that the feds were on their way to Alameda. After 10 months of puffed-chest threats, the fight we'd been dreading was about to come to our door."
"Until it didn't. The next day, as brave protestors were being callously run over and a third of the White House was being bulldozed, our very own Mayor Danny Denim broke months of deafening silence to boot-lick our despot-in-chief. Of course, it was the further boot-licking by dildo-shaped-building guy that actually made a difference. A few rich white men had to sweet-talk another rich white man in order to stop the latter from his latest totalitarian act (for now, anyway)."
"In-between that was the gala. The vibe at El Rio was congratulatory for having survived another year mixed with a determination to win the upcoming fight. Cat Brooks' speech was full of sobering notes about the pain that could be caused, while highlighting something that's been proven true through Compton's to the Black Panthers to countless protests before and after: "The Bay don't play.""
Bay Area performing-arts life combines concerns about venue safety with questions of dramatic substance amid growing political turmoil. A gala at El Rio carried a calm-before-the-storm atmosphere tied to reports that federal agents were moving on Alameda. Violent confrontations and symbolic demolitions coincided with local officials publicly praising the president, undercutting grassroots outrage. Organizers and attendees expressed determination to resist further erosions of rights. A temporary delay in benefit actions foreshadows increased demand at food banks and continued hardship for those who relied on SNAP. Community networks, protest experience, and local resilience provide preparation for sustained struggle.
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