Queeriosities

Can clothing and accessories truly define you or your community standing? Absolute Empress XVIII Connie of the Imperial Court of San Francisco (reigned January 9, 1983–January 7, 1984) thought so. Known as “the Siren,” “Temptress” and “Seductive Empress,” Connie wore imperial regalia as well as leather adorned with metal studs and pins to bridge the contrasting worlds of the Imperial Court and the leather community. 

The International Imperial Court System is a network of charitable societies that use drag entertainment to build community and raise funds. Each court annually selects an Empress and Emperor. The first imperial court was founded in San Francisco in 1965 by José Sarria (1922–2013), who took on the name “José I de San Francisco, the Widow Norton,” a reference to the city’s beloved 19th-century eccentric Joshua Norton, who proclaimed himself Emperor of the United States in 1859. Like Connie, Sarria traversed multiple social spheres, performing in drag at the Black Cat in North Beach and in 1961 becoming the first openly gay candidate to run for public office in the United States.

Standing in contrast to the glitz and glamor of the Imperial Council, San Francisco’s leather and kink community emerged in the early 1960s. The South of Market (SoMa) district became home to this community, operating many bars catering to the motorcycle and leather communities and a famous leather and kink emporium, Mr. S. Leather, founded by Alan Selby in 1979.

Like José Sarria and Empress Connie, LGBTQ people navigate a world of distinct expressions, presentations and subcommunities that are interwoven in complex and personal ways. Clothing is a powerful means for self-expression and a way to signal community affiliation; our styles and garments evolve over time, like our identities.

This ceramic mug is plain, almost homely, with its muted brown badge; yet its mere existence is a testament to the power of historical research to uncover hidden and unknown events and people at the margins whose stories must be told.

The badge on the front of the mug features a hand-drawn recreation of the wordmark of Compton’s Cafeteria. Compton’s was a chain of cafeterias owned by Gene Compton in San Francisco from the 1940s to the 1970s. The Tenderloin district’s Compton’s was located at 101 Taylor Street, at the corner with Turk Street, and was open from 1954 to 1972. Its patrons included numerous queer and transgender people, many of whom lived in the local single-room-occupancy hotels and made a living through sex work. The cafeteria, which was open 24 hours a day, provided a relatively safe space for transgender women, young male hustlers and others into the late hours of the night.

One evening in August 1966—historians still have not determined the exact date—patrons of the cafeteria reacted violently to police harassment. Transgender women and drag queens threw crockery and overturned tables as they fought with police who were trying to evict them from the restaurant, shattering its windows in the process. The incident, which took place three years before the well-known Stonewall Riots in New York, was one of the first LGBTQ uprisings in U.S. history. Despite its significance, unlike Stonewall the Compton’s Cafeteria Riot was nearly lost to history, as there was virtually no reporting about the incident at the time and little documentary evidence survives. Even mere photographs of the exterior or interior of the cafeteria are extremely rare.

Our archives contain much of the documentation of Compton’s that does survive, which enabled transgender historian and former GLBT Historical Society Executive Director Susan Stryker to piece together its history in the early 2000s. Stryker describes the Compton’s Cafeteria Riot as “the transgender community’s first act on the stage of American political history.” By the 50th anniversary of the riot in 2016, Compton’s had become sufficiently well known to inspire the creation of this commemorative mug—a testament to the growing awareness of transgender  history and acknowledgment of its significance.

These rare leather, satin and silk gloves were worn by the revolutionary artist Sylvester (1947–1988), a famed Black disco performer and soulful singer-songwriter who gained mainstream fame during the disco era of the 1970s. Sylvester grew up in the Watts neighborhood of Los Angeles singing in church choir.

As a young adult, he moved to San Francisco in 1972, where he joined the celebrated genderfuck performance troupe The Cockettes and began his recording career the following year. After a string of successful albums in the late 1970’s, which included the internationally successful albums in the late 1970’s, which included the internationally successful singles “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” and “Dance (Disco Heat),” he achieved global stardom and ultimately became known as the “Queen of Disco.” He died in 1988 of complications from AIDS, his legacy as San Francisco’s greatest disco diva assured.

From the earliest days of his singing career, Sylvester pioneered a high-profile, flamboyant fashion style and self-presentation that might now be described as genderqueer or genderfluid. His stylish costumes—made with luxurious fabrics and adorned with sequins—dispensed with heterosexual norms and defied the gender binary. He displayed this striking collection of elegant, vintage women’s gloves, complete with wooden frame, in his own home. 

According to his sister Bernadette Baldwin, who donated the collection, Sylvester had a particular fascination for antique gloves and enjoyed incorporating them into his costumes. They were not mere accessories; these gloves reflect Sylvester’s own collecting hobbies, personal taste and commitment to his identity. They are also a reminder of a man who, by fearlessly transgressing racial, sexual and gender boundaries, inspires us to shatter cultural ceilings and dares us to feel boldly confident in our own skin—to unleash our own superstardom!

This is a man’s conservative black-leather loafer with decorative fringe and tassels. Our archivists have irreverently referred to this particular object as “Cinderella’s lost slipper,” but unlike Cinderella, its owner, former San Francisco Police Department Chief and former San Francisco Mayor Francis (Frank) Jordan, was never reunited with his shoe.

The story begins with Assembly Bill 101, a piece of legislation that would have guaranteed statewide protection from discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. During his successful 1990 gubernatorial campaign, California governor Pete Wilson had indicated his willingness to sign the draft legislation. Governor Wilson’s veto of the bill on September 30, 1991 shocked and angered California’s LGBTQIA+ population. While waiting for the news of the governor’s decision, Gerard Koskovich and Bob Smith had organized a gathering in the Castro district to either celebrate the bill’s signature or protest the veto peacefully. Approximately 8,000 to 10,000 people gathered on the block of Castro Street between 17th and 18th Streets.

Former San Francisco Police Chief Frank Jordan’s ill-considered decision to go to the Castro rally that evening—supposedly to express solidarity with the community—was an enormous blunder on the would-be politician’s part. Jordan had served as Chief of Police from 1986 to 1990 before resigning to run as the city’s mayor. In spite of his public support for AB 101, which he had urged Governor Wilson to sign, Jordan was largely viewed by LGBTQ people as a resolutely conservative, antigay cop. Police harassment had continued during his tenure, culminating in the Castro Sweep Riot of 1989—the single most massive police attack on LGBTQ people and people with AIDS in the city's history. 

This riot had taken place on October 6, 1989, when San Francisco police responded violently to a peaceful ACT UP march protesting government neglect of people with AIDS. Over 200 officers had invaded the Castro for more than three hours, beating activists and passersby, systematically sweeping all pedestrians from seven city blocks and placing thousands in businesses and homes under virtual house arrest.

With the memory of the Castro Sweep still fresh, the crowd was enraged by Jordan’s cynical and transparent attempt to win LGBTQ support for his mayoral campaign in the face of a devastating legislative loss. Militant protestors began heckling Jordan, pinned him against a plate-glass window and ultimately caused him to flee the neighborhood, injured and missing his right loafer. “I was pummeled and pushed and kicked and almost thrown through a window,” Jordan told the San Francisco Chronicle on October 2, which reported that Jordan had feared for his life.