Every Sunday during the pandemic, Andrea Rodriguez laced up her sneakers and tucked a scarf into her back pocket to wipe away sweat. Joining a tight-knit group of friends, she danced Salsa in front of the mural, La Rumba No Para. Painted by her cousin Carlos “Kookie” Gonzalez on the corner of 24th and South Van Ness, the mural honors Micaela “Chata” Gutierrez, who brought salsa to the Mission District for over 40 years. For Rodriguez, who was born and raised in the historically Latinx neighborhood, seeing the beloved mural has always meant she was home.
Rodriguez’s roots run deep through the heart of the Mission. Her parents grew up across the street from one another at 24th Street and Folsom, where their homes were each sanctuaries of gathering. They were a “place of salvation,” Rodriguez said, “where everyone met up, we got fed and could take a break from life.” Surrounded by dancers from a young age, Rodriguez’s earliest memories are of dancing in the kitchen as her grandma made dozens of tamales. Watching San Francisco’s massive Carnaval parade as a little girl, she knew dance would always be part of her life.
Before long, her older cousin and professional dancer, Vanessa Mosqueda, took Rodriguez under her wing, introducing her to a youth ensemble named Loco Bloco. As a founding member, Rodriguez took on an administrative role with the group, learning valuable skill sets within the arts world while collaboratively writing shows, producing and performing across the Bay Area.
These experiences fueled her to pursue higher education, becoming the first in her family to attend college. At UCLA, she studied in the World Arts and Cultures Dance department, choreographing and creating dance films. At USC, she earned an MFA in Cinematic Arts, designing an interactive dance installation and creating a short film. After producing Zumba Dance videos with Disney Interactive Studios, Rodriguez felt a pull to pursue independent work, becoming a co-director and choreographer of the first Los Angeles Cumbia Festival.
When the pandemic hit in 2020, Rodriguez left Southern California to move back in with her parents in San Francisco. In addition to her weekly Salsa ritual, she began asking new questions about her family history, and bravely delving deeper into stories of loss and hardship: a sister struggling with addiction and living on the streets; a cousin lost in a car accident; and the sale of her grandparent’s home — a cornerstone of their lives.
“We are not alone, but yet often collectively suffer in silence,” Rodriguez said. Unearthing these stories, she realized how her family’s experiences mirrored those of the Mission’s Latinx communities. “It doesn’t matter your race, class, or where you grew up … it hurts to see someone we love suffer,” she said, speaking of addiction. She adds, “Society and family values silence us, leaving no space to discuss and heal.”
From this exploration came La Rumba No Para, a work seven years in the making that debuted at ODC Theater in November. Rodriguez describes it as a “labor of love” that blends live dance, narration, and video imagery to tell her family’s story of love, loss and healing. “As a director, dance artist, and Pilates instructor, my mission is to get you off your seat emotionally, physically, and spiritually,” she says.
Performed just after Día de Los Muertos, the show feels like a living altar pulsing with dance, with a soul. Donning her salsa dress, she brings her family’s story to life, bridging the past and present.
“I heal best when I am in community,” Rodriquez said. Through the show, she offers this sense of community as an antidote to the isolation that often accompanies addiction and loss. Her work invites the audience to reflect upon the questions: What does it mean to heal? What does it require and how can we help one another through it?
There is surely no formula. But on opening night, the theater was filled with her own community, buzzing with excitement and support as they gathered around tables filled with coffee, pastries, flan and Rodriguez’s family photographs. In that moment, the healing that Rodriguez seeks — and that we all seek in different ways — felt just one step closer.
