05/24/2026
Last Saturday was one of those moments that reminds you how fragile and at the same time, how powerful our community can be.
When Roberto and I opened Chartreuse by Roje, we didn’t just open a flower shop. We built a space rooted in beauty, creativity, inclusivity, and human connection. In many ways, this little shop became an extension of who we are. Every flower arrangement, every event, every artist collaboration, every conversation shared inside these walls has always been about creating a place where people feel safe, inspired, celebrated, and seen.
That’s why seeing hateful anti-gay graffiti spray-painted across our storefront last weekend felt so deeply violating. It wasn’t just vandalism to us. It felt personal. It felt targeted. It felt like someone trying to send a message that q***r people, q***r businesses, and spaces built with love and visibility somehow don't belong.
As a business owner, you immediately go into survival mode. You clean, assess damage, answer calls and messages. You figure out how to move forward. But underneath all of that, there’s another layer people don’t always see, the emotional toll.
Small businesses are already carrying so much right now. Many of us are fighting every day to survive rising costs, slow foot traffic, economic uncertainty, and the overall challenges facing San Francisco neighborhoods. And for q***r-owned businesses, there’s an additional emotional weight when acts of hate happen so publicly. It forces you to think not only about your livelihood, but your safety, your customers, and whether the community you love will continue to protect spaces like yours.
What made this even more heartbreaking was learning that our friend and upstairs neighbor was physically assaulted after confronting the individual responsible. What started as hateful vandalism escalated into violence against someone who simply stood up and said this behavior was not acceptable in our neighborhood.
But in the middle of all of this, something else happened too.
People showed up.
Neighbors showed up. Friends showed up. Fellow merchants showed up. Customers showed up. Community leaders showed up.
I want to sincerely thank Nate Bourg, Castro Merchant Association President, and the CMA for immediately stepping in and supporting us. Thank you to David Burke, Public Safety Liaison of District 8, for your kindness, outreach, and advocacy. Thank you to everyone who checked in, sent messages, reposted our story, stopped by the shop, offered help, or simply reminded us that we are not alone. Those gestures mattered more than people probably realize.
Because the truth is: community is not defined by what happens on our worst days. It’s defined by who stands beside us afterward.
And right now, I think we all need that reminder.
We need to look out for one another more intentionally. We need to support our neighbors, support local businesses, support q***r spaces, support artists, support immigrants, support anyone being targeted, marginalized, threatened, or harmed. Hate does not just affect one person or one storefront. It impacts the emotional fabric of an entire neighborhood.
Whether it’s homophobia, racism, antisemitism, transphobia, xenophobia, misogyny, or violence toward any vulnerable group, we cannot normalize it, excuse it, or become numb to it. Silence and indifference only create more space for harm to grow.
We all have a responsibility to care for each other better.
The Castro and San Francisco as a whole have always been strongest when people choose compassion over division and community over fear. And especially now, with the Duboce Triangle officially becoming part of the Castro LGBTQ Cultural District, it feels even more important that we protect the sense of inclusivity, safety, and belonging that so many people before us fought hard to create here. That’s the version of this neighborhood I still believe in. Not because hate doesn’t exist, but because I’ve seen firsthand how many people are willing to stand together against it.
And as for the wall where those hateful words were sprayed, we do not plan to let hate have the final image.
We plan to paint over it with a large floral bouquet mural as a reminder to ourselves and to everyone walking by that love will always be stronger than hate. That beauty can exist where harm once tried to live. That even after ugly moments, we can still choose compassion, creativity, and community.
Flowers have always been our way of speaking without words.
And this time, they’ll say exactly what needs to be said.
Your friends and neighbors,
Jeff & Roberto Dumlao
