Alysha January and Jessi Rutherford thought their friends were perhaps a tad too old to “back that thang up” well into the evening for a dance party. But the current political tenor made a night of female fellowship a no-brainer.

January is bringing back a Galentine’s Day event after a three-year-hiatus to give women a reprieve from the tense times. Aside from an evening of sweating to old-school ’90s and aughts hits, the night event is a rarity among women — especially in racially siloed Baltimore.

Organizers expect women from many backgrounds to gather for intentional fellowship at the sold-out soiree Friday night at Old Line Spirits in Highlandtown. More than 155 have RSVP’d to attend.

“I wanted to create a space for women who were open-minded, curious and interested in real connection with women who were not afraid to talk about race and what it plays in our friendships and social circles,” said January, a 39-year-old Black resident of Mount Vernon. She launched her first Galentine’s Day event in 2017. She teamed with Rutherford, a 36-year-old white event planner, in 2019.

Galentine’s Day is the celebration of female friendships observed the day before Valentine’s Day. It was popularized on the sitcom “Parks and Recreation.” Women typically plan an array of activities, from dinners to parties, to recognize the occasion.

The political divide between white and Black women was never more apparent than it was during the last election.

Ninety-two percent of Black women voted for Kamala Harris.

Exit polls showed 53% of white women, the nation’s largest voting bloc, voted for Donald Trump. Many Black women expressed disappointment and shared that they were tired of doing the heavy lifting for feminism.

This year, January’s event felt especially important, given the political climate.

“We are living in a time where leadership and rhetoric are trying to divide us, isolate us and make people stay quiet. I want to do the opposite,” she said. “I want to remind gal pals that we are strong, that community is powerful and that coming together is an act of resistance and care.”

Rutherford owns Thrill Joy PR and its private events division, Sentimental Fools Events, and she has seen just how segregated Baltimore-area gatherings can get. January curates her guest list intentionally to put attendees at ease and encourage organic and civic dialogue.

“When you let people know they can be their whole self somewhere, it encourages the best of humanity to show up, and that tends to be diverse,” she said.

“I think a lot of us need a minute where the pressure is off [and] we can come together and literally dance it out,” she added. “It’s a cathartic event every year, and it just feels like that tenfold with us bringing it back.”

Margaret Evans, 40, a white Riverside resident who works in commercial real estate, said she is inspired by the event.

“I have cultivated a number of friendships through these events,” she said. “Some have even opened my eyes to different cultures. It’s all about understanding and connection. With everything happening in this country, it makes me think what life would be like if more women had the opportunity to have these experiences.”

Evans said her mother is a Republican who voted for Trump in the last election.

“I actually feel like, if my mother would have had this experience 35 years ago, she would have very different politics today,” she said.

Sue Rode, 44, thinks the event is a chance for healing to begin — especially in a time that is the most divided she has seen.

“Assembly on commonality is more important than ever, specifically in these times of them versus us, right versus left, moral versus immoral,” said Rode, who is white.

Karsonya “Kaye” Wise Whitehead, a professor of communication and African and African American studies at Loyola University Maryland, said she is impressed with intentionally multiracial efforts like January’s party. The event is a way to cut into “an ongoing frustration that has been brewing” between Black and white women dating to the suffragette movement.

“It’s one thing to talk about sisterhood, if you use the very broad term sisterhood,” she said. “It’s another thing to actually and consciously both either vote against the best interest and to be complicit through your silence with the oppression that is happening against Black women.”

Whitehead added Black women have seen many white women’s increasing support for Trump as a betrayal.

“We do feel that we are the heart and soul of this country, and we show that in our vote of trying to push for the best candidate that would answer and meet the most problems that we’re having,” she said.

Ashley Chapman, 36, thinks bridging the gap is important after the last presidential election because there is a lot of “mistrust” among people — especially women.

“A lot of people in different racial, gender groups voted against their better interests to not even uphold but to elevate an extremely oppressive system, including a large amount of white women voting to elevate a white supremacist,” said Chapman, who is Black. “I’ve been more skeptical when meeting new people because there really is no way to know who is safe and who isn’t without getting to know them.”

January’s party takes care of the “getting to know them” part for Chapman, she said.

Chapman, who lives in Parkville, wasn’t sure what to expect when she attended her first party three years ago. By the end of the night, she was “swag surfing” with new “gal pals.”

There was no “mean girl energy. Just having fun.”

January does a good job to “bridge that social gap between the two Baltimores. You really get to meet people you might not have thought to talk to in another setting,” Chapman said.

January attributes this to her upbringing in Mississippi and Virginia.

“I grew up surrounded by diversity and understand how important it is to have relationships that cross race, culture and lived experience,” she said.

Amber Strickland, 42, a biracial speech pathologist who lives in the Baltimore Peninsula, hopes this year’s party will spark momentum and that conversations continue after the night is over.

For Strickland, as she quickly assesses her diverse friend group that stretches beyond Black and white and is peppered with Middle Eastern and Latina women, she can trace many of these connections to January’s events.

“That’s really where I met all of my friends,” she said. “I went to a book drive. That was the first time I went to anything. That’s where I met Alysha. [She] talks to everybody. Thankfully, we clicked and we became friends, and then I met pretty much all of my friends through her or through her events.”