On June 3, the San Jose City Council passed the controversial promoter ordinance that will regulate downtown nightlife by imposing fees and mandatory permits on event promoters and organizers. I don’t want to put too much on it, but the day after the ordinance passed, it was like someone had shot live entertainment in the head.

For the council, who voted unanimously for it, the issue was seen as a necessity of scale. As Councilman Liccardo said, “This city is growing very quickly. We want to make sure people who are out there hosting events which draw hundreds or thousands of patrons are doing so responsibly.” But for many San Jose residents, particularly the younger generations, this whole thing was a bit like a San Jose 2008 version of that 1980’s movie “Footloose,” where Kevin Bacon’s character and other youths rebel against the city establishment in their righteous quest for personal freedoms. They just wanted to dance, man. The other option was to “tear up this town.” I don’t really remember how the movie ended, but what I do remember is that they all came together to make their stand—the clumsy jocks, the pretty girls, even the mysterious 30-year-old looking high school kid from out of town.

This is how it went down in San Jose too. Cultural enthusiasts from all walks of artistry—rockers, hip hop MCs, visual artists and poets of all the many ethnicities of San Jose—came together in an unprecedented coalition called the San Jose Nightlife and Entertainment Committee to assert their concern with the promoters ordinance and the direction of downtown. And while the ordinance still passed, their unity created an oppositional force that can hang its hat on several measurable victories, and, more importantly, injected the political conversation around the future of downtown with voices that rarely are part of the discourse.

At the council meeting, dozens of San Jose musicians and promoters, many entering City Hall for the first time, spoke against the ordinance. Their attendance was a culmination of months of work the group had done. They held regular meetings, researched the ordinance and related laws, debated strategy, and forced stakeholder meetings with Liccardo and Mayor Reed’s office. They were responsible for the council putting the brakes on passing the ordinance in April, clarifying the once ambiguous term “promoter,” and the evolution of the ordinance which now emphasizes contracts between promoter and club owner, thus exempting permit requirements when protected by contracts.

June 3 may have seen a low voter turnout in the election, but that evening, participatory democracy was active, inclusive, and potentially transformative. While voting for candidates is important, it is these moments, where stakeholders are fully entering the decision-making process rather than just checking a box, that can change local politics.  But even if people feel the issue is so important they can take the time to have a civic life, it can still be a daunting process.

The truth is, speaking at the public comment section at a City Council meeting can be an intimidating experience. You are speaking in front of people you usually have only seen in the newspaper or on a brochure and who are sitting in elevated seating, like a judge. You have two minutes, sometimes one, to get out everything you’ve been wanting to say for months, running through as much as possible before Mayor Reed says the most cutting four-letter word you’ve heard on your life: “Time.” The worst is when you look up, see the council people staring blankly at their computer screens, and you’re not sure if they were listening to you or checking their MySpace.

That is why, win or lose, groups coming together and actively challenging policies that effect their lives are due respect. Opposing the status quo requires courage, and creates a dynamic political scene in the process. The challenge, of course, is the group persisting beyond the moment of crisis.

One of the most powerful groups I’ve seen address the council was the flea market vendors, who came together and created a business association when they got news of the shutdown. They had so many people addressing the council at meetings that Mayor Reed cut the public comments down to one minute. Like the San Jose Nightlife and Entertainment Committee, they changed the landscape of the conversation, even though they didn’t get the final result they wanted. And, like the Nightlife and Entertainment group, who knows what could have happened if they were allowed into the process earlier. But now, although the shutting down of the current location is a done deal, the possibility of the flea market being moved to another San Jose location rather than being destroyed is still there because of the existence of this group.

The same opening—being relevant and present for the future direction of the city—may be available to this whole new group of downtowners now that they have a battle at City Hall under their belts.  They may not have won this ordinance issue, but their new participation may change a vision of downtown that has to deal with them from here on out. In the long run, this may be a game changing moment and the birth of new players: downtown culture creators. Again, I’m not trying to put too much on it, but it’s like what Desmond Tutu once said: “It is not just about having a seat at the table; it’s about helping to set the menu.”