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You wouldn’t know it from looking at local headlines, but San Francisco’s beloved Hunky Jesus Contest gets some people's non-bedazzled panties in a twist.
“San Francisco drag queens unleash Christian fury for woke Easter show,” whined the Daily Mail in the U.K., one of two incredibly similar stories the tabloid published online with separate headlines.
“Drag queen group mocks Jesus, Christianity in Easter show marketed to kids,” Fox News complained of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence’s annual Easter event that celebrated its 46th anniversary this year.
Granted, out-of-town commentary about The City tends to miss the mark with shocking regularity, but such takes particularly transcend the tedious pearl-clutching about San Francisco culture by missing the point entirely.
Now, I’m no theologist — I’m not even Christian — but as I lounged on the grassy hillside alongside the packed crowd at Dolores Park on Easter, reveling as dressed-up and decked-out Foxy Marys and Hunky Jesuses took the stage, it occurred to me that what I was experiencing is exactly what Jesus preached. Hear me out!
Joy. Inclusivity. Celebration. Loving your neighbor no matter who they are or how they express themselves. Bringing people together to create the kind of community that can change the world — and has before.
That’s not only my understanding of what Jesus was all about; it’s what I see as the core of San Francisco’s culture, with the Hunky Jesus competition harmonizing that worldview in one glorious jubilee.
I arrived in the midst of the Foxy Mary competition to an absolutely packed Dolores Park. Barely a blade of grass could be seen between the blankets, backpacks, dogs, tarot card layouts, and glittering bodies filling every inch of what was — perhaps ironically — historically San Francisco’s Jewish cemetery.
Boisterous music and soap bubbles filled the air, while the stage’s speakers — aimed away from me — garbled out information about the competitors on stage to wild applause. To find my friends, I had to make my way from one cement path to another through the grass, and every single group I passed went out of their way to ensure I could safely navigate past them.
When my friend’s dog needed water, a stranger emerged from the crowd with a silicone bowl so the dachshund could drink. Camaraderie and community, even on a small scale, were ubiquitous.
“This is my favorite day to be a San Franciscan,” Hunky Jesus contest winner Wild West told me after earning his crown of thorns by yeehawing atop a dazzling disco bison in an homage to Beyoncé’s “Cowboy Carter.”
It was easy to see why. The event is political and cultural defiance packaged in celebration and cheeky satire that creates community, and a moment where San Francisco reminds the world that we will continue to be ourselves and lead the way despite external pressure to fall in line to a perspective that criminalizes individuality.
After all, that’s what the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence are all about. The order of queer and trans nuns were founded in 1979, “to promulgate universal joy, expiate stigmatic guilt and serve the community — spread far and wide,” per their website. They have been a driving force in shaping San Francisco’s culture ever since the first three original Sisters journeyed to the nude beach while wearing full traditional nun’s habits, machine gun in one’s hand (for protection — the 1970s were much different).
People come to San Francisco from all over the world to experience what we rolled up to on Easter Sunday. The event is a microcosm of a grander cultural truth about this city. Someone recently told me how lucky I am to be born and raised here, when this is a place so many people have sought over the decades — not just for work or for fun, but for safety from oppression and the opportunity to express themselves authentically.
Many folks inspire themselves to be better by asking, “What Would Jesus Do?” If Jesus attended the competition, I would like to think He wouldn’t join impersonators “Wicked Jesus,” “F--k Trump Jesus” and “Jesus Crust” on stage in whimsical competition. Rather, He would sit among the crowd, look around at all the strangers gathered together in unified celebration, and be proud to see so many people being generous, forgiving, and casting out judgment in favor of inclusiveness.
SF critics should ask themselves, 'What Would Hunky Jesus Do?'
You wouldn’t know it from looking at local headlines, but San Francisco’s beloved Hunky Jesus Contest gets some people's non-bedazzled panties in a twist.
“San Francisco drag queens unleash Christian fury for woke Easter show,” whined the Daily Mail in the U.K., one of two incredibly similar stories the tabloid published online with separate headlines.
“Drag queen group mocks Jesus, Christianity in Easter show marketed to kids,” Fox News complained of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence’s annual Easter event that celebrated its 46th anniversary this year.
Granted, out-of-town commentary about The City tends to miss the mark with shocking regularity, but such takes particularly transcend the tedious pearl-clutching about San Francisco culture by missing the point entirely.
Now, I’m no theologist — I’m not even Christian — but as I lounged on the grassy hillside alongside the packed crowd at Dolores Park on Easter, reveling as dressed-up and decked-out Foxy Marys and Hunky Jesuses took the stage, it occurred to me that what I was experiencing is exactly what Jesus preached. Hear me out!
Joy. Inclusivity. Celebration. Loving your neighbor no matter who they are or how they express themselves. Bringing people together to create the kind of community that can change the world — and has before.
That’s not only my understanding of what Jesus was all about; it’s what I see as the core of San Francisco’s culture, with the Hunky Jesus competition harmonizing that worldview in one glorious jubilee.
I arrived in the midst of the Foxy Mary competition to an absolutely packed Dolores Park. Barely a blade of grass could be seen between the blankets, backpacks, dogs, tarot card layouts, and glittering bodies filling every inch of what was — perhaps ironically — historically San Francisco’s Jewish cemetery.
Boisterous music and soap bubbles filled the air, while the stage’s speakers — aimed away from me — garbled out information about the competitors on stage to wild applause. To find my friends, I had to make my way from one cement path to another through the grass, and every single group I passed went out of their way to ensure I could safely navigate past them.
When my friend’s dog needed water, a stranger emerged from the crowd with a silicone bowl so the dachshund could drink. Camaraderie and community, even on a small scale, were ubiquitous.
“This is my favorite day to be a San Franciscan,” Hunky Jesus contest winner Wild West told me after earning his crown of thorns by yeehawing atop a dazzling disco bison in an homage to Beyoncé’s “Cowboy Carter.”
It was easy to see why. The event is political and cultural defiance packaged in celebration and cheeky satire that creates community, and a moment where San Francisco reminds the world that we will continue to be ourselves and lead the way despite external pressure to fall in line to a perspective that criminalizes individuality.
After all, that’s what the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence are all about. The order of queer and trans nuns were founded in 1979, “to promulgate universal joy, expiate stigmatic guilt and serve the community — spread far and wide,” per their website. They have been a driving force in shaping San Francisco’s culture ever since the first three original Sisters journeyed to the nude beach while wearing full traditional nun’s habits, machine gun in one’s hand (for protection — the 1970s were much different).
People come to San Francisco from all over the world to experience what we rolled up to on Easter Sunday. The event is a microcosm of a grander cultural truth about this city. Someone recently told me how lucky I am to be born and raised here, when this is a place so many people have sought over the decades — not just for work or for fun, but for safety from oppression and the opportunity to express themselves authentically.
Many folks inspire themselves to be better by asking, “What Would Jesus Do?” If Jesus attended the competition, I would like to think He wouldn’t join impersonators “Wicked Jesus,” “F--k Trump Jesus” and “Jesus Crust” on stage in whimsical competition. Rather, He would sit among the crowd, look around at all the strangers gathered together in unified celebration, and be proud to see so many people being generous, forgiving, and casting out judgment in favor of inclusiveness.
