My Two Cents is a weekly opinion column from Bethesda resident Joseph Hawkins. The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of BethesdaNow.com.
Being surrounded by white people hasn’t been as bad as I thought it might.
I just wish white people would stop thinking I work in the Whole Foods produce section. (Although, I’m friendly and will gladly assist any customer in In 1984, I moved from Washington, D.C. — my hometown — to Bethesda. In fact, my Bethesda home on Wilson Lane is a mere 10 miles from my childhood home in Petworth.
If I had to do it over I’d move to Bethesda again without missing a heartbeat. And I’d do it again knowing that Bethesda remains a predominantly white and very affluent suburb. That’s not a complaint.
Let’s face it — Bethesda is clearly “Outer Caucasia,” and probably will remain so during my lifetime. (Note to readers: Outer Caucasia is a take-off on the Washington City Paper’s use of “Upper Caucasia” to describe various predominantly white D.C. neighborhoods of upper Northwest.)
When I moved to Bethesda, I had no fears or negative expectations for how a black person in the area would be treated. I certainly wasn’t expecting my white neighbors to burn a cross on my lawn. In fact, my neighbors threw my family a welcome to the neighborhood party.
And yet, life in Bethesda — for nearly 30 years — has not been completely free of race-related encounters. A few them were kind of funny and a few others — including the time I was stopped and questioned by police while on a jog — somewhat hurtful.
My observation here, however, is by no means a blanket condemnation of life in Bethesda. For the most part, folks in Bethesda are enlightened, open-minded, and friendly.
Before jumping into sharing, it’s important for readers to know that I’m no amateur when it comes to studying race and racism. I have studied race-related issue for the Montgomery County Hate Violence Committee, and for parts of 1993 and 1994, I did a fellowship at the Southern Poverty Law Center. I also have written about race and racism in a variety of well-respected publications, including the Washington Post.
The funny, or perhaps not so funny
I never intentionally make light of racism, but I still laugh just a little when telling this story. It was the closest we ever got to have a nanny.
I’m thinking of the time when my wife went to Burning Tree Elementary School to pick up our daughter for the first time. She had been on a four-month work assignment in New York and had missed the opening of school. I told my wife that our daughter would be right out front waiting for a ride. My wife still recalls the encounter.
When my wife approached our daughter that day as she was standing with a group of her classmates, one of the classmates asked, “Is that your nanny?”
Hurtful or just downright sad
There is another Burning Tree story worth telling and it’s really just a sad one.
The Hawkins parents family always ate dinner together. No TV, just chatting and reflecting on the day’s events. And so we were sitting at dinner one night and that obvious question comes up, “Anything exciting happen at school today?”
My son — then in the second grade — answered, “Jenny [not her real name] said out loud today in class that black people are stupid. That’s what her parents told her.”
Wow! My son didn’t seem troubled by Jenny’s comment. Nonetheless, I went to Burning Tree the next day and had a talk with the teacher.
I told the teacher that since everyone in the classroom had heard Jenny’s racist remarks, I wanted her– the teacher — to address it. She did.
But here is the weird thing: After that day, whenever I saw that teacher she acted as if I was contagious, refused to make eye contact, and barely spoke to me. It was as if I had called her a racist, which I hadn’t.
I had only asked her to talk to the class about what Jenny had said and to make it clear that what Jenny had said was wrong. I even offered the teacher help if she wanted it.
The next school year both Jenny and this teacher were no longer at Burning Tree.
Even in Bethesda, the police will chase down a black man
I think I remember the year correctly, it was 1998. At that time, someone was breaking into cars in Bethesda, mostly along neighborhoods touching Wilson Lane.
The Gazette newspaper had run multiple stories describing the alleged break-in artist as a black man who was young, thin, and dark-skinned. And so one early September morning, I took off through the neighborhood on my morning jog.
On this morning, I carried only my house key and no ID (a mistake). As I’m jogging down Huntington Parkway headed toward Bradley Boulevard, I hear cars behind me. Before I can turn to even see what is up I’m cut off by a police cruiser — one is in front of me and one is behind me.
So on that September morning, I was that young, thin, dark-skinned black criminal. And for those who know me, none of those first three things describe me, even back in 1998.
It took about 30 minutes of talking to convince the officers that I was just out for a morning jog. When I showed them my house key, said they could put me in the car, drive to my house and wake up my wife to prove it, they looked at me like the Breads Unlimited clerk had eyed me years ago: Are you sure you can afford to live in Bethesda?
Before letting me go, they wanted to take my picture. I refused. The only reason it didn’t happen was because the officers were out of film (in the good old days before everything went digital). Later that week, I complained to the commander of the Bethesda Police Division, but no one ever called back to speak about the event. But I never leave home now without my ID. Lesson learned.
From time to time, I still wonder if the Bethesda Police station maintains some kind of wall filled with pictures of “suspicious” dark people. I hope not.
What is about odd store clerks?
For some strange reason, store clerks in Bethesda insist that I’m poor. Am I being stereotyped because I’m black? I can’t know for sure.
But years ago, at the Breads Unlimited bakery on Arlington Road, there was an incident that was so odd, I couldn’t help but think it.
I had been going in to Breads Unlimited for months buying oatmeal raisin cookies, which were sold by the pound. On the day I was suspected of being “poor,” a new store clerk was on duty. I went through my normal cookie routine and asked for six oatmeal raisins.
The clerk hesitated and said, “These cookies are expensive. Are you sure you want six because I don’t want to weigh them and then you tell me you don’t want them.”
In my most pleasant voice, I said, “Just weigh the cookies, please.” When I got home with my cookies, I got on the telephone and called Breads Unlimited and asked to speak with the manager. I told the manager about his rather odd new clerk and said that this person was certainly not helping boost cookie profits.
When I returned to Breads Unlimited several weeks later the odd clerk was gone. But I tell this story because this kind of encounter with Bethesda store clerks continues to happen. Within the past year, when purchasing pine nuts in Vace (my favorite Bethesda pizza joint) I was challenged and told by a new clerk, “These nuts are very expensive!” Are you sure you want them?”
Again, in a pleasant voice, I said, “Just fill that container with pine nuts. Don’t worry yourself about how I spend my money.” After all, what’s a basil pesto going to taste like without pine nuts?
Since I love Vace, I did speak with clerks several times after the above incident. They claimed that what was said to me is said to all customers. That’s fine. But no clerk there had ever spoken to me about the prices of anything before.
When debating Ferguson, I’ve heard writers and talking heads consistently say that black men are targets no matter where they live. I disagree.
Sure, I can point out negative things that have happened to me in Bethesda, but, on the whole, life for black people in Bethesda is pretty easy. Where one lives matters, and life in Bethesda is pretty wonderful for most.
Joseph Hawkins is a longtime Bethesda resident who remembers when there was no Capital Crescent Trail. He works full-time for an employee-owned social science research firm located Montgomery County. He is a D.C. native and for nearly 10 years, he wrote a regular column for the Montgomery Journal. He also has essays and editorials published in Education Week, the Washington Post, and Teaching Tolerance Magazine. He is a serious live music fan and is committed to checking out some live act at least once a month.