If you’re registered to vote in Seattle, you’ve probably had a chance to see the Democracy Voucher Program (DVP) in action: a blue and white envelope arrives in your mailbox with a small stack of $25 coupons; you, the voter, are invited to spend them on any candidate you like. It’s Seattle’s own, first-in-the-nation public campaign financing program. And Proposition 1 asks if we want to renew the levy that funds it for another decade. 

The new levy would be funded through a property tax, and it’s expected to raise $45 million over 10 years, costing the average homeowner $12.20 a year.

By most metrics, the DVP has been a roaring success. It makes primaries more competitive and campaigning accessible to more diverse candidates, and the vast majority of people running for office in Seattle participate in the program. More than 106,000 Seattleites have slipped their vouchers to candidates, and according to the City, through 2024, we’ve distributed more than $10 million to local campaigns.

Fueled by a love of marine life, endless cups of matcha, and memories of old Seattle, local trio Coral Grief hiked up to Anacortes for a week to record their debut album, Air Between Us. Like the parasailer on the cover, the songs evoke an aimless momentum that is loosely tethered to time and place. Vocalist and bassist Lena Farr-Morrissey sings in a breathy, weightless tone, while guitarist Sam Fason and drummer Cam Hancock craft lush, dreamy soundscapes that illuminate the reflective lyrics. While the album will draw many comparisons to British bands like Broadcast, Stereolab, and Lush, Coral Grief add a distinctly Washington State haze to their songs, with lyrics that encompass both the urban and the pastoral landscapes. I sat down with the trio to talk about the making of the album, Seattle’s dearly departed local businesses, and the magic of PNW beaches. 

I’m a 44-year-old woman with a history of childhood sexual trauma. I enjoy sex if I’m with a partner I feel very connected to emotionally, but I’ve never had an orgasm. Because of this I tend to rely on pleasing my partner during sex rather than my own arousal. It works OK for me at this point while I try to heal, which is taking forever. (I am in therapy.) I’ve been married for about 12 years. My husband has a high sex drive and has had a hard time with the ways trauma can lower my interest in sex. He has worked hard to try and find ways we can be intimate that don’t involve penetrative sex (including his wearing a cage as a turn-on for him, sharing fantasies, etc.) but his needs have not been met recently as the trauma symptoms have been on top of me.

Recently, we had a major misunderstanding. I thought I was giving him the green light to go to strip clubs/burlesque shows to get his sexual needs met. He thought I was giving him the green light to have an open relationship. We had a huge struggle about this. For now, he has decided to accept my decision that I cannot remain in the marriage if he wants to sleep with other people. It does not feel emotionally safe to me to open the marriage to others. However, I can see that he was much happier when he thought he had the option to pursue others.

What does any of this mean? Is monogamy ethically wrong if one partner would prefer a different arrangement? He is right that I am setting the terms of the relationship, and he has to comply to stay with me, which feels unilateral to him. How do we navigate this in a way that is fair to both partners?

Very Confused Recluse

Seattle. I'm sorry. Your heat is nowhere near all that. You spoiled me. Yes, I much prefer your cold days, I love your long winter nights, and live for your clouds, which never fail to carry the sun away. But when I recently visited Atlanta, I learned my lesson. That city's summer is nothing like ours. Indeed, when my craft (operated by Delta) landed on ATL, I immediately felt another world when its doors opened: the heat, the humidity, the larger-than-life star. I was an alien whose lungs were simply stunned by the atmosphere. I could barely breathe the air, which had the consistency of melted butter. I spent a whole week on planet Atlanta, moving from one air-conditioned station to the next, always wishing I had a spacesuit during a transition. Even the mornings were brutal, and the nights offered no relief and lots of insect sounds. I changed my mind, Seattle, which will reach a high of 80 today, the same high it reached yesterday. Yes, I will always want you to be around 60 degrees or less, but now I know that even on your hottest days, you're nowhere near the Venus that Atlanta is. 

Photos by Christian Parroco

Some people write love letters. Some just hold hands and let the silence do the talking. But for Seattle fashion designer Dan McLean, her connection with hairstylist Robert “Robere” Shaw is the kind that hoists a boom box over its head and hits play.

This bond between them will echo loud and clear on the runway with McLean’s next annual birthday fashion show. On July 20, 7:20:Hair by Robere will showcase years of friendship, memory, and hair on the catwalk.

Like with many modern love stories, their stars crossed through Instagram DMs.

MONDAY 7/7  

Heroines of Resistance: Women as Anti-Fascist Militants

(DISCUSSION) This free feminist discussion group will explore women in history who have played vital roles in fighting fascism. Organized by the long-running socialist feminist activist organization Radical Women, this is not only a powerful way to harness hope and gain inspiration to resist under the current administration, but also an opportunity to meet like-minded people in the community. Reading packets will be available to purchase for $10 at each session. (New Freeway Hall, 6:30 pm) AUDREY VANN

Until this week, I’d never been to a K-pop concert. That being said, I do play a lot of video games that partner with K-pop groups for promo and overpriced in-game cosmetics (that I inevitably buy), so I thought it’d be cool to take a peek into a scene I’ve only dabbled in on a very surface level. While that disqualifies me from saying anything definitive about the genre, it also made Baekhyun’s Reverie tour stop at WaMu Theater on Tuesday night hit that much harder. Walking into the venue didn’t feel like showing up to a concert. It felt like being dropped into a world that had been going strong without me for a long time. The lights were intense, the crowd was already moving to the music playing over the house speakers, and, even though I didn’t know the lyrics to a single Baekhyum song, it was obvious that wasn’t going to be a problem.

Let’s start with the crowd. Imagine a Discord server come to life. Friends who’d never met in person were hugging for the first time. There were conversations about favorite League of Legends champions and whether or not Solo Leveling robbed Frieren of Crunchyroll Anime of the Year (which it did). This wasn’t just a show, it was an occasion. The outfits spanned Harajuku-core, streetwear, ethereal fae, and a heavy dose of glitter. No single theme, just a shared understanding: You show up looking good.

And there were a lot of moms. Like, a lot. Some of them were probably just escorting their kids to the show, but most looked like they were there for themselves, seemingly more excited than their much younger neighbors in the crowd. The crowd was overwhelmingly femme and shockingly diverse. People of all ethnicities, all body types, all ages, and they were all screaming when, in the second act, Baekhyun pulled out the fedora.

Good morning! Did you manage to get through the 4th of July without blowing anything (or anyone) up? Good for you. (The 47 people that were treated at Harborview for fireworks-related injuries weren’t so lucky.) Now that we’re officially in Seattle Summer, we’ve got two balmy, 80 degree days ahead of us before a little rain comes back on Wednesday. Enjoy ‘em while you got ‘em.

Until then, let’s do the news.

Flooding in Texas: At least 81 people died in central Texas when flash floods hit on the Fourth of July, and because the flooded area was full of summer camps, at least 28 of them children. At the current toll, it’s already one of the deadliest floods in the United States in the last century, and dozens of people (including 10 campers) are still missing three days later.

Placing Blame: The (understaffed) Weather Service says that it gave towns in the area enough time to warn residents, but flash flood warnings blasted from locals’ phones at 1:14 a.m.—so a lot of people never heard or saw them. Former Weather Service officials told the New York Times that the loss of experienced people who would typically have helped communicate with local authorities in the hours after flash flood warnings were issued overnight. But there’s enough blame to go around. Kerr County, one of the worst hit areas in the state, didn’t have a flood warning system set up, because apparently, according to the county’s most senior elected official (a judge), “Taxpayers won’t pay for it.” NYT asked if people might reconsider in light of the catastrophe, and he said, “I don’t know.”

For more than a decade and a half, if you asked people in King County what a “County Executive” was, they might’ve said “uh, some guy named Dow Constantine?” Dow’s dynasty (Dow-nasty?) is through and it’s time for Girmay Zahilay to take charge.

Zahilay, a charismatic County Council Member first elected in 2019, is already a political staple repping University District, Laurelhurst, Ravenna, Eastlake, Capitol Hill, the Central District, South Seattle, Allentown, and Skyway, but he’s never held such a powerful executive position. He can do it. And, damn it, we want him to. So do the “just fine” establishment dems like Governor Bob Ferguson, cool establishment dems like Congresswoman Pramila Jayapal, and moronic warhawks like Congressman Adam Smith. Big tent!

Photography by West Smith

When I first saw the poster for Meet Us In The Parking Lot: Drag Wrestling at Massive, my brain couldn’t quite piece together what it was going to be.  After working in the independent pro wrestling industry for ten years now, I know how much hard work and training it takes before a wrestler is allowed to even have a match in the ring. “There is no way they are actually going to wrestle,” I thought.

I reached out to drag queen Mimi Gina, one of the wrestlers on the poster. They replied with a voice memo assuring me that they were going to, “get in the ring and, like, actually fight.”

Produced by Massive's Ethan Cory, the show was, in fact, local drag queens wrestling in a real wrestling ring for the first time. After all, pro wrestling has often been compared to drag, sometimes even being called “drag for herteros.” Why not combine them? Each match was set to music and it really did feel like equal parts wrestling match and drag show. I popped (the pro wrestling term for the reaction of the crowd, often integrated into the show) when Papusa hit a lariat on This Girl and I popped again when the opening piano notes of Abba’s 1980 hit “The Winner Takes All” started.

The matches were fantastic: they featured great in-ring psychology, storytelling, and showed physical prowess across the entire card. I truly believe that if any of these queens decided to hang up the heels and go on a run of the independent wrestling circuit, it would only be a matter of time until someone put the belt on them.

When we endorsed Alexis Mercedes Rinck in 2024, we had a lot to say about what she wouldn’t do: She wouldn’t stoop to a lower minimum wage, she wouldn’t make it easier for landlords to evict you, she wouldn’t reduce oversight on cops, she wouldn’t help corporations hoard more wealth.

That was because we knew that if she was elected, she (and at the time, Tammy Morales before she was bullied out of City Hall) would be a progressive in a sea of conservatism. As we hoped, she pushed back: She voted against giving SPD more access to “less lethal” weapons, and when her colleagues approved additional surveillance from law enforcement, she opposed it.

But more important than what she didn’t do is what she did. Despite being on council with people allergic to helping the city, Rinck found other ways to show up. She supported counterprotesters at a Christian Supremacist group in Cal Anderson, and was instrumental in convincing the city to deescalate the situation. She spoke out at the committee hearing when Council Member Cathy Moore tried to defang our city’s ethics code, even though she wasn’t on that committee (and even though Council President Sara Nelson tried desperately to shut her up). Rinck knows that being on city council gives her a voice, and she’s shown us over and over again that she’s willing to use it for ordinary people.

Thursday, June 19, was the last night of service for the foreseeable future at Capitol Hill steakhouse Bateau and its twin cocktail lounge Boat Bar. After a shift spent alternately serving customers and throwing away food and projects in process, the crew shut the restaurant down early, then sat down to eat together. For their swan-song meal, they arranged the flowers, cooked up some leftover steaks, and made good use of the open wine bottles. The group was joined by former crew members, regulars, and other friends who stopped in to pay their respects, and the tears flowed alongside the wine. 

According to staff members at the party, they were joined by two corporate employees from Sea Creatures, the ocean-themed restaurant group founded by celebrated Seattle chef Renee Erickson that owns Bateau and Boat Bar, dining with the people they’d just laid off. They didn’t help cook or clean, the staff said—just ate the food, but not before telling workers to make sure they clocked out before dinner started. There was no word from or sign of Erickson.

What’s more personal than how you like your pizza? In a city like Seattle, where opinions can end friendships, what you think about pizza could matter nearly as much as whom you voted for.

Which makes it all the more interesting that one of Seattle’s best pizza spots is named after the world’s most divisive pizza topping: Ananas, or “pineapple” in Italian (and over 40 other languages). At the helm is Khampaeng Panyathong, the Laotian chef whose claim to fame isn’t a viral noodle pull or reimagined laap, but instead, a cheeseburger—one so good it landed him on the cover of the New York Times food section. It’s the kind of culinary punchline you’d expect from a city that loves categories but rarely knows what to do with someone who sidesteps them.

Justin stepped into the blue corner, Sarah R stepped into the red. The reedy cry of the pai chawa, a traditional Thai instrument, croaked from the speakers. 

Then, with the high metallic clang of a bell, they pounced. And jabbed and swung their legs into high kicks. The audience cheered with each hit. It gasped at the near misses. 

Part of the drama—and the excitement—of the fight was that in any other space aside from this ring at Ballard Jiu Jitsu, these fighters aren’t even allowed to compete. The thrill of the fight was twofold: The exhilaration of hitting and being hit and the ability to actually, finally fight. 

Queer Fight Night runs one of the few martial arts tournaments in the US where trans people can easily compete. (Outside of these occasional tournaments, Queer Fight Night teaches monthly self-defense classes for queer and trans people, where I was punched in the head about one hundred times—I’d recommend it). The March tournament was the third and the biggest, and the next one, over Labor Day weekend, is just two months away. If someone is willing to compete against anyone of any gender, they’re welcome.