Blog Post

The Question We Keep Getting

“Why don’t you just use Eventeny?” or “What about EventHub?” or “There’s gotta be a platform for this, right?”

We hear it every registration cycle. And honestly? Fair question. There are a dozen tech platforms out there promising to “streamline” parade and festival registration. Slick dashboards, automated everything, one-click this, drag-and-drop that.

So why are we still using Google Forms and manually generating Stripe invoices like it’s 2015?

Because we’re not interested in efficiency for efficiency’s sake. We’re interested in relationships.

Let’s Talk About What These Platforms Actually Do

These registration platforms—Eventeny, EventHub, and the rest—they’re not neutral tools. They’re built on a specific worldview about what events are and who they’re for.

Their model:

• Force everyone to create an account
• Lock data behind proprietary systems
• Extract fees from every transaction (usually 3-7% on top of payment processing)
• Treat participants as “users” to be managed, not community members to be served
• Prioritize scalability over human connection

And look, we get it. For some events, that works. But Pride isn’t a conference. It’s not a music festival. It’s not a trade show.

The Login Problem (Or: Why We Don’t Make You Jump Through Digital Hoops)

Here’s what requiring account creation actually does:

It creates barriers. Not everyone has regular email access. Not everyone wants another password to remember. Not everyone wants their participation tracked across years and platforms. Not everyone speaks English as a first language and can navigate tech interfaces designed in Silicon Valley.

It excludes people. Small grassroots organizations. First-time participants. Elders who aren’t digital natives. People with cognitive disabilities. Folks experiencing housing insecurity who don’t have consistent internet access.

It extracts data. These platforms don’t just facilitate registration—they harvest participant data, build profiles, analyze behavior, and monetize insights. Your community becomes their product.

We’re not here for that.

Our Approach: Radically Simple, Intentionally Human

Here’s what we do instead:

1. Google Form – Free, accessible, works on any device, available in 100+ languages
2. You fill it out – Tell us what you need, ask questions in open text fields, communicate like a human
3. We read every single submission – Actual humans, with context and care
4. We respond personally – Questions? Concerns? Special circumstances? You talk to a person, not a chatbot
5. We generate a Stripe invoice – Send it directly to you, clear breakdown of what you’re paying for
6. Money goes to Pride, not platforms – 100% of fees support the event and our community grants program

Why This Matters: Follow the Money

Let’s do the math. Say we have 300 parade contingents and 200 festival vendors/exhibitors. Average registration fee is $400.

With a platform:

• Total collected: $200,000
• Platform fees at 5%: $10,000
• What goes to Pride: $190,000
• $10,000 extracted from our community to a tech company

Our way:

• Total collected: $200,000
• Stripe processing at 2.9% + $0.30: ~$6,000
• What goes to Pride: $194,000
• Extra $4,000 stays in our community

That extra $4,000? That’s grant funding for small LGBTQ+ nonprofits. That’s accessibility services. That’s supporting queer artists.

Every dollar matters when you’re a nonprofit.

The White Glove Experience (Because You Deserve It)

“White glove” usually means luxury. We’re reclaiming it to mean care.

When you register with us:

• You’re not user #47829. You’re a community member with a name and a story.
• Your questions get answered by someone who understands Pride’s 55-year history.
• Special circumstances? We talk it through. Payment plans? We’ll work with you.
• Accessibility needs? Tell us what you need, and we’ll make it happen.
• First time marching? We’ll guide you through every step.

This isn’t scalable. It’s not efficient. It’s not automated.

It’s care work. And care work is queer labor.

On Choosing People Over Platforms

The tech industry wants us to believe that human interaction is a bug to be eliminated, that scale requires automation, that personal service is unsustainable.

We reject that worldview entirely.

Pride was built by people who showed up for each other. Who made phone calls. Who held hands. Who created systems of mutual aid when institutions failed us. Who valued relationship over transaction.

When we hire staff instead of paying platforms, we’re investing in our people. We’re creating jobs that pay living wages. We’re building institutional knowledge within the queer community.

When we respond to emails personally, we’re saying: your participation matters, your questions are valid, you belong here.

When we handle registration manually, we catch things automated systems miss. The person registering a harm reduction booth who needs extra time to fundraise. The small trans-led org applying for the first time. The contingent that needs help navigating city permits.

The Pedagogy Part (Why This Is About Learning, Not Just Logistics)

Every interaction with Pride is a teaching moment. Not in a condescending way—in a mutual way.

When you fill out our form, you’re learning about what goes into Pride. What information we actually need. What matters to us (pronouns, accessibility needs, community connections).

When we respond to you, we’re learning about our community. What barriers exist. What support is needed. What’s changing in the landscape.

When we do this together, year after year, we build collective knowledge. We’re not customers and service providers. We’re community members co-creating an event.

Platforms flatten that relationship. They turn mutual learning into one-way data extraction.

We’re choosing the messier, slower, more human way. Because that’s how movements are built.

What We’re Not Saying

We’re not saying technology is bad. (We use Google Forms, Stripe, a website—we’re not Luddites.)

We’re not saying other events are wrong for using platforms. (Different contexts, different needs.)

We’re not saying our system is perfect. (It’s not. We’re working on it.)

What We Are Saying

We’re saying that how we do things reflects what we value.

We value relationships over efficiency.
We value accessibility over convenience.
We value community wealth over corporate extraction.
We value human dignity over user metrics.

We’re saying that Pride isn’t a product to be streamlined—it’s a movement to be nurtured.

And nurturing takes time. Takes attention. Takes actual humans showing up for each other, registration cycle after registration cycle, email after email, conversation after conversation.

The Invitation

So when you register for Pride 2026, know that you’re not just filling out a form. You’re participating in a practice of mutual care. You’re supporting a model that centers people over profit.

And when we email you back with your invoice and a personal note, that’s not inefficiency—that’s intention.

That’s us saying: we see you. We’re glad you’re here. Let’s make Pride together.

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Questions? Thoughts? Want to argue about this? Email us at registration@sfpride.org. An actual human will respond. We promise.

Want to support this model? Make a donation. Every dollar you give is a dollar that doesn’t get extracted by a corporate platform.

Registration for Pride 2026 opens February 1. We can’t wait to read your applications.