Cheers Harvey 🍸

I wandered my way along Castro Street until I reached 575 Castro Street, the camera shop where Harvey Milk established his business and, ultimately, the headquarters for his political movement.

Harvey Milk was one of the first openly gay elected officials in the United States. More than that, he became a symbol of hope for a community that, at the time, faced widespread discrimination and very little political representation. From his small camera shop in the Castro, he organized campaigns, mobilized voters, and encouraged LGBTQ+ people to be visible and proud of who they were. His famous message was simple but powerful: “Come out.” He believed that when people knew someone who was gay, understanding and acceptance would follow.

Today, the Castro stands as a living testament to that legacy. Rainbow flags line the street, queer-owned businesses flourish, and people from around the world come here to honour the history that helped shape modern LGBTQ+ rights. Nearby, Harvey Milk Plaza serves as a reminder of both how far the community has come and the work that remains.

As I walked through the neighbourhood, I passed bars with music pumping onto the street and crowds of patrons laughing, drinking, and celebrating life. There was absolutely nothing wrong with any of it, but I felt no real inclination to step inside on my own. Not because I was uncomfortable or afraid—simply because it didn’t feel like what I needed at that moment.

Maybe that’s part of getting older. Maybe it’s recognising that the things that once defined a chapter of your life don’t necessarily define the next one. It’s a strange place to find yourself mentally. For much of my life, I embraced that scene wholeheartedly. Yet lately it feels as though there is a change in the air. The ability to be introspective and acknowledge that shift is probably a strength rather than something to resist. As a gay man, I think that’s something worth being proud of.

Instead, I found myself at Twin Peaks. Opened in 1935, it is often regarded as San Francisco’s first gay bar with large plate-glass windows facing the street. At a time when many gay bars concealed their patrons behind blacked-out windows, Twin Peaks became known as “the gateway to the Castro” because people inside could see out, and people outside could see in. It was a small but powerful statement of visibility and normalisation.

Sitting there with a martini, content in my own company, I reflected on the trip so far. I raised a quiet toast in Harvey Milk’s honour. Just as I took my first sip, Sylvester’s “You make me feel, Mighty Real” 🎶 blasted out into the bar! What an anthem of pride and almost like the universe ordered it for that exact moment! ✊🏻💋🏳️‍🌈

Sometimes quiet reflection and solitude are exactly what you need to truly absorb the atmosphere of a place and appreciate those who came before us. Their courage, sacrifice, and determination helped create freedoms that many people now take for granted. Standing in the Castro, I was reminded that history is not just something to be remembered—it is something to be understood, respected, and carried forward.Read more