The grand entry began a little after noon. Drummers gave a pulse to the proceedings. Dancers, all dressed in the traditional clothing of their respective tribes, began to step in place. Those who watched all stood in respect.

First was the color guard — flags for Canada, the United States and Mexico; flags for veterans and prisoners of war; and, finally, flags for gay and transgender pride. Some of the marchers spun as they walked, others moved forward resolutely, young children danced self-consciously. The procession was so long that it coiled in on itself.

Prayers followed, including a blessing by two singers from the Costanoan Rumsen Ohlone tribe — and an acknowledgement that everybody collected there was gathered on Ohlone land.

The annual Two-Spirit Powwow, held for the eighth time on Saturday, Feb. 2, is organized by Bay Area American Indian Two-Spirits. Two-spirit is a pan-tribal term for a wide variety of variance in sexual orientation and gender identity. Many tribes have their own words for very specific identities or social and ceremonial roles. This year, the powwow brought more than 4,000 people to the Fort Mason Center for Arts and Culture, a great hall on the northernmost edge of San Francisco.

Roger Kuhn, a member of the Poarch Creek tribe and one of the organizers and the former chair of the group, described the powwow as an immense celebration of — and act of resistance by — two-spirit people. “I don’t live on my reservation. I live very far away from my tribal community, so I always try to find ways to be in relations with other native people,” he said. “BAAITS and this powwow have really created that community that I’ve been looking for.”

The space was loud and warm, even as it rained outside. Vendors sold hand drums and woven bags and feather earrings and heavy blankets. Visitors ate buffalo burgers and Indian tacos (fry bread loaded up with beef, beans, shredded lettuce and cheese).

A poster up front read “Decolonize sexuality,” and rapid HIV testing was available on-site.

The dancing, held in the back arena, was the biggest draw. Performers competed in different categories, and the audience watched from rows of folding chairs and metal bleachers.

Celeste McGurk (Navajo) was there with her son. She was dressed to compete in a category called jingle dance. It had been months since she’d last danced. A new job was keeping her busy. But for this powwow, she took the day off. She was there as an ally, she said. But also because this powwow had a special feel to it. “Here people are able to be themselves, as opposed to the usual gender roles.”

Travis Goldtooth (Navajo) felt that too. “It’s amazing. It’s such a breath of fresh air.” Goldtooth had come from Denver and was selling jewelry, much of it silver and turquoise, all of it handmade — some by her, some by artists living on the Navajo reservation. She also had T-shirts that read “Make America Native Again.”

“The booth is a gimmick,” Goldtooth said. She wanted to pull people in and get their ears so she could “talk about the two-spirit culture and Native American culture.” Two-spirit traditions, she said, have been suppressed by colonization and Christianity. People need to learn. “It was hidden for so long.”

Goldtooth doesn’t claim a specific pronoun; she’ll let you use whatever you’d like. On Saturday, she was dressed in full powwow regalia, her dress covered in sequins and beads and tiny metal cones that sang when she moved. (She, too, would be competing in the jingle dance.) But on a weekday, out working construction, she’d look very different — and very likely people would use “he.”

Performing at the Two-Spirit Powwow is easy, she said. But at many others the jingle dance category is strictly for women. “At first it was really hard, but I kind of made a name for myself,” she said. “We and many others set the groundwork. … It’s becoming more embraced.”

That this event is the largest and oldest of its kind makes some sense. San Francisco has, for decades, been a home for both Native American and queer resistance and activism.

But eight years ago, as Ruth Villasenor (Chiricahua Apache), Derek Smith (Sault St. Marie Chippewa) and Miko Thomas (Chicksawa), all members of the Bay Area American Indian Two-Spirits board, began to plan for the first powwow, there was some uncertainty because something like this hadn’t been done before. “I thought nobody was going to show up,” Villasenor said.

But she and the others felt the space was deeply needed.

More than 500 people came that first year. “It was so packed. I still can’t believe that,” Villasenor says. “I know that at the end, I just cried. I just had so many emotions around it because I thought my own community was not going to support me.”

Now the two-spirit powwow is spreading. One for Phoenix was announced over the speaker Saturday; several others are planned for places in the U.S. and Canada. And this year, the Bay Area American Indian Two-Spirits group is celebrating 20 years. Their legacy is the focus of a new exhibit up at the GLBT History Museum.

On Saturday, Amelia Vigil (Chicanx, Picuris, Purapechan) was walking alongside the boardwalk, just outside the main hall. The rain had let up, and the fresh air was nice, she said. The energy inside felt good — but she’s also an introvert. Vigil’s the new chair of the organization’s board, a position she took knowing the importance of its work. The community that has formed around the group and around this powwow, she said, “honestly and earnestly … saved my life.”

She remembers her first powwow. But putting words to it isn’t so easy. “It was really emotional,” Vigil said. “I often think or sense that words, especially the English language, don’t do emotions justice, don’t do ancestral memory justice.

“I’m at a loss for words frequently in the BAAITS community.”

And just then her sister came running down the boardwalk. “Potato dance!” she yelled. Vigil turned and apologized. It was her favorite, she explained. She smiled and took off running.