Will quiet bias keep LGBTQ candidates out of office, or has shifting consciousness made the South Bay a safe place to run a gay...

It's the stuff of nerdy programmers' dreams: make enough money in Silicon Valley, and the invites to secret sex parties will roll in. The soirees are the 21st-century version of dotcom-era trips to Vegas, where you might see a polyamorous venture capitalist dressed like a bunny before he splits off to have druggy sex with a few women at once. The ratio of women to men is 2-to-1, the opposite of a typical tech sausagefest, and the molly takes many forms: mixed into a coconut, pressed into a Snapchat logo-shaped tablet, passed around in big plastic bags.

In the fall of 2017, a curious library patron walked into the California Room on the fifth floor of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Library with a simple question: Did the library have any information on the history of lowrider culture in San Jose?

The valley’s tech visionaries intend to outlive most of us—but how they’ve decided to invest their time and money speaks  volumes about the future.

Benny O'hara flips through a stack of drawings on tracing paper and produces a recent piece: a protest sign on a wooden stake, surrounded by lilies. The time for peace, it seems, has come to an end.

Across the country, rumblings of a resistance movement began as the final votes were being tallied. The Women's March is considered by many to be the largest one-day nationwide demonstration in American history, with 3.7 million people rallying across the country and more than 25,000 people packing the streets of downtown San Jose. When Trump rolled out a constitutionally challenged immigration ban Jan. 27, thousands of protesters and lawyers flocked to airports across the country to block traffic for departures and arrivals.

On Jan. 21, women across the country will grab Donald Trump by the ear and have their voices heard.