Category: Seattle, Washington Local News

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

The bathrooms aren’t for you anymore. The parks aren’t for you anymore. Good luck finding a trash can at a light rail station, or getting comfortable on a bench while a metal armrest stabs into your ribs. Your other seating options require $6 for over-sour coffee or surveillance from an underpaid librarian whose unofficial second job is now social worker. The bus shelters don’t shelter, the park closes at 10, and the street is a Ring doorbell showroom. But at least we’re solving the “homeless problem.” 

A few weeks ago, we reported how the city quietly locked up Seven Hill Park over Labor Day Weekend. The little Capitol Hill greenspace, next to a church turned swanky “Sanctuary” condominium building, would be closed for 60 days, or until just before Halloween. The city did this because people were living in the park and neighbors told us the residents of that swanky condominium had complained. Sanctuary’s building association did not return a request for an interview.

Parks said it put up the fence to address “bouts of negative park activity,” and might install new “amenities” hostile to sleeping, sitting and vibing. 

Two neighbors told us the people at Seven Hills were no bother (but a gun had once gone off, an incident the Seattle Police Department was unable to confirm), and the latest group had responsibly picked up its trash. A tourist from Atlanta, Georgia told us “Atlanta, Georgia said ‘fuck that.’ Councilmember Joy Hollingsworth dodged our questions and told us to reach out to parks for answers.

For this story, she got back to us and says residents would have a better idea of whether the fence has been an effective measure than she would. When we asked what “amenities” the city should install to prevent people from camping, she dodged again, saying tents and encampments had never been an issue for her or the community, only fentanyl use, “biohazards,” and “unsafe activity.” When we asked if anti-homeless architecture impacted the overall enjoyment of a park, Hollingsworth says the question was irrelevant to the closure. When we asked what public response she’d heard, she referred us to a public statement:

“I’ve heard from many of you who deeply value these parks as vital green spaces in our neighborhoods,” she wrote. “I totally agree. Access to safe, welcoming parks is essential for our community’s health and well-being. That’s why we are doing everything we can to address these issues and reopen both parks as quickly and safely as possible for everyone to enjoy.”

There you have it: 60 days is top speed. There were rumors that the city would close additional parks in Capitol Hill. However, those closures haven’t happened and none are planned, according to the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation. 

Even though the homeowners on the council can’t comprehend it, in a neighborhood of apartment renders, two months without a neighborhood park can be suffocating. Those spaces are breathing rooms. Where else can a person take a call away from their nosy roommate? Leaning against a fence?

That’s exactly the idea. Since the city sees no problem fencing off Seven Hills Park, the public good must still be enjoyable. We attempted to find all the possible ways to enjoy a park that’s been de-parked. 

Photos by Billie Winter for The Stranger.

Masturbate behind the fence. The city has been playing hard to get with this Denny Blaine stuff, but we finally got the hint. You could have just asked. Something for you, something for us.

Play “Berlin Wall.” 

3D scan the area and create a VPE (Virtual Park Experience). With the Metaverse, we don’t need outside.

Use the fence as a bathroom. They’re hard to find in this neighborhood!

Use the fence as a backscratcher. Check for rust (and piss.)

Pretend you’re on the Love Lock Bridge in Paris. We don’t have the grit to protest like the French, but we can co-opt their whole romance thing. 

Tie a puppy player to the fence and leave him there. Ryan got away. 

Throw a bunch of baseballs in there. Have you seen Sandlot?

Find a Handhold: Those Seattle Bouldering Project gyms are too damn full and too damn expensive. The city thinks the fence is a solution. Climbers see a “problem.” (Check for rust and piss.) 

Step 1: release bunnies; Step 2: sell hunting permits.

Red Solo Cup Art. It can say whatever you want, but the holes are more rectangular than is ideal.

Lure a police officer in there and trap him like you’re a 7-year-old playing The Sims: Oh feebee lay! 

Tie balloons to the fence until it floats away. Up is based on a house in Seattle, so obviously, it works.

Tell the city the fence is an encampment. Found, fixed, reported, baby. The city will have 90 days to collect its fence.

Tunnels?

Role play! If you pretend you are conservative, an orgasmic-like pleasure will roll through your body like a freight train.

Astral project.

Stare longingly at the benches, the shady patches under the trees. If you spin it right, you can convince yourself this is like some kind of restrictive delayed gratification kink thing, which brings us back to masturbating behind the fence. 

Put a Ring camera on it. Call the cops whenever someone walks by.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Watch with

Passport is our extended library of captivating dramas, inspiring arts performances, thoughtful documentaries, trusted news and more. Donate to support public media in your local community and enjoy the member benefit of Passport.

Photos by Madison Kirkman

A fax machine almost took out Unicorn.

An electrical fire at Post Options on July 30 forced Capitol Hill’s most neon funhouse to close its doors indefinitely. That meant no carnival food, no pinball, no drag brunches and—most importantly—no steady income for the many drag artists, performers, bartenders, security, kitchen staff, and management who’ve made Unicorn the carnivalesque fixture of Seattle nightlife it is.

If you ask Fraya Love—the host and organizer of Unicorn Burn Relief Fundraiser, as well as a bartender and performer at Unicorn—who’s to blame, her answer is clear: “the IRS.” When do you need a fax machine aside from tax season?

Now, rather than dazzling on stage, the staff and performers have to “sit and wait while the insurance companies fight for who’s going to pay for every little thing,” Izzy Access, events manager and host of Mimosa’s Cabaret since 2018, said. “Insurance is a scam.”

The gloom of outdated technology and rapacious insurance companies did not find its way on Neumos’ stage at the fundraiser Sept. 25. An intimate crowd of Unicorn staff and community members welcomed in the evening, with performers and supporters mingling while flashes of gaudy fabric could be seen backstage.The opening number was vibrant shades of orchid and chartreuse set to Brittany Spears’ “Circus,” as Fraya Love steered the night to a sexy, spirited showcase of 21 drag and burlesque artists.

The patent leather boots and slinky floorwork were almost enough to forget that every performer out there was on a financial cliff, and the fundraiser was about survival. Bills are stacking up while Unicorn hopes against insurance frustrations to reopen by mid-October, “prospectively and optimistically,” as Love puts it.

“You can’t really just get another kitchen job for a month or two if you want to have a good reputation,” assistant kitchen manager Valerie Long says. “So we’ve just been sticking it out on unemployment.”

But unemployment doesn’t make ends meet like it used to.

“Unemployment is like ’90s money,” Long explains. “It’s not the ‘90s. I went to the fucking food bank today. It’s getting rough.”

Still, in between raffle pulls, lip-syncs, and tequila shots, there were vignettes of what makes Unicorn more than a bar. During one raffle drawing, bar regular Kara was the winning ticket holder. Love, without missing a beat, remembered Kara’s exact drink order and shouted it from the stage.

It was a small moment in a loud night full of extravagance, and a beautiful snapshot of how Unicorn serves as a place for community members to be known.

Kara was at the Unicorn the night of the fire. “We were playing games in the back, and I was like, ‘Does it smell like burning plastic to anyone else?’ I was trying to pay the tab while they were telling everyone to leave,” Kara says.

While a fan of their colorful interior, pinball machines and “surprisingly good” bar food, Kara mostly misses the “inclusive and accepting environment” that Unicorn created.

“We need to remember that we only have so many spaces right now that are not just queer, but open to everybody. Any bar [like that] is worth saving, especially right now,” she says.

With rising costs of living, Seattle’s queer nightlife has been whittled down by the pricing out of many queer spaces, performers and individuals. Unicorn—with its striped walls and carnival kitsch—has housed innumerable artists over the years, with all the fundraiser performers having some tie to the venue.

The night was a menagerie of endless talent, feather boas, tasseled pasties and tearaway pants, including performances from: Harper Bizarre, Amora Namor, Bruno Baewatch, Princess Pillow, Miss Texas 1988, Nico, Ladie Chablis, Ruby Mimosa, Queen Andrew Scott, Londyn Bradshaw, Glory Joel, Kimme Kash, Lüchi, Willy Nilly, Kara Sutra, Izzy Access, Tarzan, Lady Gugu, Kenzie the Kween, Porcelain, and, of course, Fraya Love.

“Never will you ever get to see these performers for $30 again—in this recession?” Love says.

Though an all-star night like this is unlikely to occur again, the lineup of talented artists looks forward to performing upon Unicorn’s reopening. Excitement grew as Izzy Access announced that the interrupted run of “The Wicked Wiz of Oz” will return.

“I’m hoping that the community is really going to come to support us when we open back up,” Long says. “I hope that going without Unicorn, people will be like ‘Oh wait, we love you!’”

Love brought the night to a close, encouraging individuals to support local drag and service workers and to contribute to a GoFundMe set up to support Unicorn staff if able.

With a final goodbye, Love instructed: “Brush your teeth, do your homework and we’ll see you next time.”