It was hard to miss the relentless drumming on Tuesday evening — even when it came from the third floor of the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts (MCCLA). For many of the people walking into the building — from teenagers in sports leggings to grandmothers holding their grandkids’ hands — the rhythm seemed like a calling.
Inside the studio, dancers sashayed to the front before lining the room’s perimeter, following the steps of lead dancers wearing sarongs over their leggings. In front of them stood a group of drummers, guided by José Rivera, who moved his hands in sweeping motions to keep their tempo tight.
Young children hopped between the dancers, many wearing earplugs and headphones to protect themselves from the loudness. In the corner, as the drums grew faster and feet struck harder, musicians chanted into microphones, and the soundscape became a cacophony of sounds.
The Brazilian dance and percussion company Fogo Na Roupa had less than a week to go before its big performance on Sunday — when more than 60 contingents inspired by regional music and dance from across Latin America will take over the Mission District for Carnaval’s annual Grand Parade. But already, the energy that propels Fogo’s dancers and musicians to perform through long hours and blistered feet was coming together.
Centering the immigrant experience
Fogo Na Roupa has been part of Carnaval since 1989, when it was founded by Oakland-based dance instructor Carlos Aceituno. The passionate Guatemalan mestre quickly grew a community for a large group of Bay Area immigrants, many of them from Latin America.
“The magic that Brazilian music brings is very contagious,” said Metzi Henríquez, who joined in 1996 and now directs Fogo’s dancers. “We know we’re not authentic, but we’re inspired. We’ve studied it a lot, and we move forward with a lot of respect.”
Although rooted in Afro-Brazilian rhythms and dances, the group has blended sounds and practices from other Latin American and African diasporas in the Bay. Rivera, who is from Perú and leads the percussion section, said they’ve even brought in Cuban sonero Fito Reinoso from Florida to guide vocals.
“What we’re doing is expressing their joy and music,” said Rivera. “But it’s not 100% Brazilian, because we live in a place that has parts of all of us.”
Aceituno passed away in 2006, but his memory is carried by Rivera and Henríquez, who now lead the award-winning contingent, and have centralized it in San Francisco, welcoming new generations from all walks of life.
“One of the reasons why it feels so much like a home for me is because this is an immigrant community,” said Henríquez, who was born in El Salvador but was raised in San Francisco. “We’re in a space where everyone accepts each other and where most people are from other countries or have family from other countries.”
More than just a dance class
Rafeeah Alexander, 49, said she discovered Fogo Na Roupa while taking West African dance classes at Oakland’s Malonga Center in the late 90s. Every time she left class, she’d hear drums and laughter echoing from another room — what sounded, to her, “like a celebration.” Whenever she looked into the room, she said Aceituno would always invite her to join.
“One day I took the class and I was sold,” said Alexander, who owns a catering company in the East Bay. “It’s so much more than just a dance class. It is a community space where we are all growing together.”
Like Alexander, many of the performers in Fogo Na Roupa have stayed for decades, celebrating birthdays, weddings, babies and funerals with each other while preparing for the Mission’s biggest parade. Over time, entire families have joined: Alexander’s husband, for instance, is driving this year’s parade float while her daughter and nine-year-old grandson are participating as dancers.
Rivera and Henríquez said they met through the group. Now married, they raise three children — all of whom participate.
“The best thing about it is that we’re just one big family,” said Sebastián Ramírez, 26, who joined in 2008 after taking summer drumming lessons at MCCLA. “Growing up with them just makes them feel like my cousins, you know? We hang out outside of Fogo. We go out, have dinner, go to the movies. We’re always checking in on each other.”
Some members attend Fogo’s classes year-round. Others start showing up in early spring, just in time for Carnaval season. Even those who’ve moved away return to San Francisco in May in time for the parade. This year, about 350 people will march with Fogo in Sunday’s parade — a mix of drummers, dancers, baianas, musicians and family members walking alongside the float.
A labor of love
For Fogo Na Roupa, Carnaval is a months-long endeavor. Planning for the 2025 festival began in late October, when the group’s committee first met to choose a theme and costumes. By January, they were experimenting with choreography and rhythms.
This year’s theme is “Everybody Gone BAD!”, inspired by the music of Michael Jackson and grounded in current events. The idea, several committee members explained, is to reject systems that criminalize people of color.
“It’s acknowledging the bad and the good in all of us,” said Louise Joanes-Allen, a member since 1990. “Rather than dividing, that should unite us.”
Joanes-Allen is one of Fogo’s lead costume designers. She crafts looks for dancers, making sure their outfits reflect the year’s theme while celebrating the individual wearing it. After creating the costumes’ base, Fogo hosts workshops where members can work on smaller pieces.
Meanwhile, as the end of May approaches, rehearsals kick into high gear. Each section — drummers, dancers, baianas, singers — trains separately with instructors, then unites in larger outdoor practices in places like the Presidio.
Now, on top of rehearsals, everyone is rushing to make last-minute, finishing touches. Alexander has been staying up late, personalizing her costume during Zoom calls with other members.
“This is why I’m up till two every day. I’m not tired. I am excited,” she said. “Even though we dance together all year round this is the pinnacle. We put on our regalia, we get into character, we channel our ancestors and our heritage and tell our story to everyone that’s watching.”
Although they rarely take breaks, Rivera and Henríquez say they remind students what matters most: the joy that they bring to 24th Street on Sunday morning.
Early tomorrow morning, Rivera will be assembling drums and making sure the 63 percussionists get their sticks. There will be sound checks and float pickups underway, as dancers put on their costumes and adjust their hair. By the time they hit the street, Henríquez said, they’ll be ready to give it their all.
“I think it’s seeing everybody lose themselves in the music, you know?” Henríquez said. “You can really see when the person just lets go and is just letting their spirit dance.”
