If you got off BART at Mission and 24th streets and followed the colorful papel picado hanging above the Latino Cultural District corridor, you may have met the man responsible for putting it up. And if you didn’t meet him, chances are Ricardo “El Tigre” Peña saw you pass by.
Ricardo was regularly outside his store, Mixcoatl, on the corner of 24th and South Van Ness Avenue, selling Mexican gifts, jewelry, sage, native-design jackets, serapes and the famous luchador masks. He kept his eyes on 24th Street and greeted everyone who passed with respect and love. Ricardo was both guardian and greeter of the corridor, consistently present and always available to those who needed assistance. And he will be sorely missed.
Ricardo Peña passed away suddenly early on Dec. 8. He was 54 years old.
He leaves behind a loving family of danzantes, including his wife and co-owner of Mixcoatl, Connie Rivera, and their two children, Xochil and Cuahtémoc. Together, they led Grupo Mixcoatl Anáhuac, performing Aztec dance and ceremonies throughout the Mission District and beyond. Originally from Toluca, Mexico, Ricardo came to San Francisco with Connie more than 30 years ago.
Although we crossed paths at many community events over the years, I really got to know Ricardo five years ago at the Mission Food Hub. During the pandemic, Ricardo helped distribute 50-pound boxes of food to thousands of community members in need. Connie was one of the managers of the Mission Food Hub, and together, they were often the last two people you saw after receiving your box of beans, rice, tortillas, celery, tomatoes, cheese, chicken, carrots, apples, yogurt and milk.
Ricardo radiated a calm kindness and warmth that complemented Connie’s bubbly chatter, jokes and smile.
Since then, Ricardo has been a close collaborator. He joined our community research group, Somos Esenciales, at the Mission Food Hub in 2021 to investigate the toll that COVID had taken on Latino mental health. He spoke honestly about the stigma Latino men often place on mental health — that seeking help means “you’re crazy,” and therefore something to avoid.
Ricardo also believed deeply that danza and music could heal mental and emotional wounds. He saw dance and drumming as a way of communicating with the universe, projecting prayers through movement and sound to bring peace, collective empowerment and spiritual connection. Aztec dance, he believed, could cleanse your troubles.
At the same time, Ricardo wanted to help others overcome depression and anxiety by applying what he was learning about cognitive behavioral therapy. He became a mental health promotor, a role he took seriously and with great care.
Ricardo had never gone to college, but he was a natural psychologist. In many ways, this work reflected what he had always done: listening deeply, steadying others, and helping people find their footing.
Ricardo was also my friend, somebody I talked with often about the challenges of being a father. We talked often about raising our teenagers. His 15-year-old son, Cuahtémoc, is close with my 16-year-old daughter, Luna. They go to the same school. Luna is a dancer, and Cuahtémoc is a drummer with Grupo Mixcoatl.
Recently, Luna travelled with the entire family to Los Angeles, including Cuahtémoc older sister, Xochil, to perform at a ceremony there. Afterward, Ricardo and Connie brought Luna back to my house in a Suburban packed with new Mexican products from Olvera Street. They were all exhausted, but Ricardo still smiled and hugged me.
Ricardo and I were both Latino artists who understood how important it is to balance family responsibilities while remaining committed to our crafts. He was a drummer and an Aztec dance jefe, a leader in that tradition. I am a well-known poet, theater maker and educator from the Mission District.
We both loved the 24th Street community and had lived and worked there for more than 30 years, alongside many of the same friends. Over the years, we collaborated on performances, classes and workshops at Acción Latina, KQED, Calle 24 and CANA.
You can see the depth of Ricardo’s impact in the hundreds of people who gathered for nine consecutive nights, through Dec. 16, at the corner of 24th Street and South Van Ness Avenue to remember him — singing, praying and accompanying him on his journey to the ancestors.
He was always available for the community. I never heard him say no to a request for help. He showed love to everyone. I watched him show love to his wife Connie.
During the Acción Latina 50th anniversary gala a couple years ago, Grupo Mixcoatl performed the opening ceremony at St. Mary’s Cathedral Event Center. After their performance, Connie joined the party, while Ricardo retired to his car a little early and waited patiently in the parking lot for more than three hours until Connie finished celebrating. She was one of the last to leave. Ricardo wanted to be there to open the door for her and take her home.
I witnessed his patience and guidance with his son and daughter, Cuahtémoc and Xochil. During one ensayo, Ricardo was instructing his son on a drum rhythm when Cuahtémoc added a stylistic flourish. Ricardo stopped the rehearsal and calmly told Cuahtémoc the rhythm had to remain the same. This was not the moment to add personal flair to a traditional song.
Another time, Connie and Ricardo paid for my daughter Luna to catch an Uber from 24th Street and Mission to meet me in El Cerrito. I also watched Ricardo guide my daughter through the Xilonen rites of passage with Grupo Mixcoatl Anahuac, offering her the same love and care he gave his own children.
I was lucky to have known him. We were lucky to have walked with him. And now, we honor him by carrying forward that same love for our community.
Que viva Ricardo Peña.
Héroe de la Misión.
Tributes for “El Tigre”
El Tecolote asked the community to share their favorite memories of Ricardo Peña. The responses below have been lightly edited for clarity.
Want to submit your memory? Share it here before Jan. 5 to be considered for publication in an upcoming print edition of El Tecolote.
His eagerness to share his culture. He never treated me as an outsider. He was always open and willing to answer my questions and treated me like family. He gave hugs that made you feel welcome and at home. — Seth MacKenzie
Ricardo, thank you for guarding these streets. Thank you for offering your love and wisdom to la Misión. God gave me the gift of watching you do your rounds each night around 10 or 11 p.m., surveying the neighborhood and noticing the small but important changes others missed. I wonder now who will walk your dog, who will help us close each night in la Misión. What I know is that your energy and love are still here. Gracias por todo, Tigre. — Gloria Aguirre
Ricardo was a literal ray of sunshine. Every time I walked by Mixcoatl with guests, he welcomed us with a huge smile and said how happy he was we visited. I can still hear him telling my guests, “Please come back. We’ll give you a discount!” My heart is broken. The Mission gained an incredible ancestor. — Eric Curry
Ricardo was especially friendly, helpful and patient with my niece and me at the Aztec dance classes at the Mission Cultural Center. We were honored to have known him. — Dr. Annie Rodriguez
What I remember most about Ricardo is how he supported his wife and let her shine. He carried a calm, steady presence that felt like the foundation for her strength and fire. — Anissa Malady
Tengo muchos recuerdos muy bonitos de él y su familia. Siempre lo recordaremos por su amabilidad y su gran corazón. Enseñó a niños y jóvenes la tradición de la danza. Cuando mi hijo tenía 3 años, le gustaba tocar el tambor, y Ricardo lo dejó tocar a su lado. Definitivamente se le extrañará muchísimo. — Nancy Ortiz Franco
Para el aniversario 40 de El Tecolote, le pedí al Tigre que nos ayudara con una danza. Y se llevó a todo el grupo, tambores y todo. Generosísimo. Inmenso corazón. Mis condolencias a Connie, a sus hijos y a todo el barrio que amó tanto como a su familia. — Francisco Barradas
Ricardo played the drum for Grupo Mixcoatl at MCCLA, teaching free classes for many years. I was captivated not only by the dance but by the drumming. It carried the rhythm and allowed us to transcend through movement and ancestral memory. Ricardo was always kind, patient and smiling. — Adrian Arias
My favorite memory of Ricardo is seeing him at the huehuetl with his son beside him while his wife and daughter led dance practice. Ricardo made my first pair of ayoyotes before I moved away. I hold so much gratitude for him and his family. — Giselle Escamilla