The first time JP Breganza hit my feed, I thought I was watching a floor-shaking warehouse set on the industrial edge of the Bay. Bodies jumping, phones in the air, a bass line heavy enough to rattle a parking garage. Then the camera pulled back, and I realized the whole crowd was dancing between the fish counter and the bakery at Seafood City in Daly City. Shoppers holding bags of rice were getting swept into a scene that felt part house party, part family reunion.
Seafood City itself is a Filipino-American grocery chain found in pockets of the West Coast and beyond. It is the kind of store that doubles as a cultural hub, where you can buy fresh bangus, grab a merienda snack, stock up on childhood sauces and snacks, and run into half your extended family in the frozen aisle. For many Filipino families in the States, it anchors the neighborhood the way an H Mart or Ranch 99 does for others.
Put that together with the crowds, the conversations, and the warmth in the room, and the shape of the place becomes obvious. Rikki’s stands on its own as a home base, a spot that feels strangely familiar even on your first visit. What struck me after talking to both JP and Sara was how their measures of success were almost identical. Neither talked about numbers or lines out the door. They both circled back to smiles. Real ones. The kind you notice when a room feels safe, joyful, and fully itself. That is the heartbeat of any real scene.
You can outgrow the darker parts of nightlife and still want to go out, dance, watch a game, meet people, or just feel held by a room for a couple of hours. The Bay keeps inventing new ways to do that. One night, it is a dance floor between the fish counter and the bakery. Another night, it is a women’s sports bar that feels like a living room. Different settings, same North Star. If the room is smiling, the work is working.
JP is the spark behind the chaos. Vallejo-raised, now living in Folsom, he is a videographer, editor, DJ, and competitive Street Fighter player who built his own lane by choosing not to play the usual club circuit. The whole phenomenon started as a casual comment online. Someone joked that he should DJ at Seafood City. JP reposted it, tagged a few chains, and kept it moving. Within hours, Seafood City reached out and asked him to come in. “When I saw that reply, I knew it was real,” he tells me. “It felt like a chance to bring back everything from those old Filipino house parties. The music, the chaos, the feeling of home.”
His sets are stitched together from OPM classics, diaspora deep cuts, and the kind of edits he finds through late-night rabbit holes and old Filipino DJ Facebook groups. If it is Filipino, it goes in the crate. The mission is intergenerational joy. Aunties two-step in the aisles. Kids climb onto the check stands for a better view. Cashiers dance at their registers. Employees break into choreo the second a certain hook drops. Confusion turns into celebration. What really keeps the room moving is JP’s instinct. He reads a crowd the way he reads an opponent in Street Fighter, adjusting in real time until everything locks in.
The nights have grown so big that some now double as fundraisers for typhoon relief in the Philippines and other community needs. The mood never dips. “I have not seen the energy die down at all,” he says. “I want to convert the hype into awareness. I want people to feel proud and seen.” His metric for success is simple. “Did everyone leave with a smile?” he says. “Did people feel like they got a piece of home, whether that home is the Philippines or Daly City?”
Seafood City has started trying the concept in other stores.
Other DJs are picking up the idea. JP is already thinking beyond the Bay. He talks about bringing this energy into the Sacramento suburbs and smaller towns where Filipino families do not always have a scene of their own. Backyards included. “It might cost a little more to go out to all these random places, but it can be done. I just want to play everywhere that feels like home.” Right now, the most joyful dance floor on the West Coast might still be the one under the fluorescent lights at Seafood City.
The Castro’s Most Talked About Bar Right Now is a Women’s Sports Haven – Rikki’s Women’s Sports Bar
A few miles away in the Castro, another kind of community heat is building. On game nights at Rikki’s, the windows glow like a warm TV screen, and inside, you can hear a full room breathing in sync with whatever is unfolding on the monitors. It is the city’s first women’s sports bar, and it is already settling into the neighborhood like it has always belonged there.
Co-owner Sara Yergovich tells me the idea lived in the “wouldn’t it be cool” phase for years. She and her business partner met on a queer women’s soccer team and spent a long time crawling bars, taking mental notes on what felt right, what felt tired, and what they wanted to create if they ever built something themselves. They hosted watch parties. They talked to friends. They circled the idea until the only thing left to do was act on it.
“We ummed and aahed about it for a long time,” Sara says. “It finally felt like no one else was going to do this in San Francisco. With Bay FC coming and the Valkyries growing, it seemed like a really awesome opportunity. It was a moment of, if we are going to do this, we better do it.”
The bar’s name honors Rikki Streicher, the late owner of iconic lesbian bars like Maud’s and Amelia’s and a founding force behind the Gay Games. Streicher built sports leagues for queer women in the sixties, sponsored teams, fought for community space, and helped create a global athletic movement. Bringing her name into the Castro in 2024 felt like a quiet course correction. “Rikki loved sports. She loved community,” Sara says. “You do not hear a lot about women’s history in San Francisco. We wanted to speak to that.”
The walls reflect that intention. Gay Games posters, team photos, memorabilia, and snapshots of a queer sports lineage that rarely gets center space share the room with plates of food and pint glasses. It feels lived in, even in its first year. Rikki’s also embraces the art of joy. Their now infamous Lesbian Pie Eating Contest, created with Curve founder Franco Stevens and the Curve Foundation for Lesbian Visibility Week, brought whipped cream, laughter, and donations into one room with an ease that only queer spaces manage. The eighty-one-year-old contestant named Babs stole the show and became a small internet legend. Sara missed most of it because she was barbacking the rush.
On regular nights, the mix shifts with whatever sport is on. College athletes, community elders, queer families, new transplants, and sports fans who never had a place like this growing up all drift through. Different games bring different crowds. Stanford basketball skews local. Valkyries’ games draw a packed, buzzing chorus. Hockey nights bring more men who love the vibe.
“The thing that surprised me the most is the different types of people who come to different events,” Sara says. “It shows how many ways people can be connected to women’s sports. It is not just one bucket.” Rikki’s is part bar and part restaurant, with nonalcoholic options that actually matter and a daytime-friendly energy that stands out in the Castro. It is a space where you can scream at the TV or eat dinner quietly and still feel like you belong. It also feels genuinely comfortable, which is not a small thing.
“Our goal is coziness,” Sara says. “A place where you can hang out and be yourself in a way that is organic and not as heavily influenced by alcohol.” When she talks about success metrics, her answer lands close to JP’s. “It feels kind of silly, but smiling,” she says. “At some lesbian nightlife spaces, people are not always joyful. At Rikki’s, when it feels successful is when people are genuinely happy and having a good time, even if their team is losing or they did not win the pie-eating contest.”
The year ahead is lined with big moments. Rikki’s is partnering with a larger group for a Super Bowl watch party that highlights women who love football. The Winter Olympics are on their radar, along with Unrivaled hockey, the new pro volleyball league, March Madness, NWSL season, and the WNBA stretch.
Recognition is already finding them. At the Academy SF’s recent Legends Awards, Rikki’s received the Architect Award, a nod from another Castro-based queer space that understands the work of actually building community.
