Jim Crow is alive and well in San Rafael

by A. Faye Hicks, Po’ Poet Laureate/ POOR Magazine

The sign on the highway said “Welcome to San Rafael “
Anticipation danced through my veins, as the Golden Gate Transit Bus sped along.
The Comfortable velvet seats soothing my soul, I purr, such a class-act way to travel.
I compare this transportation to MUNI’s hard plastic seats built to cause pain.

My hot chocolate flavored skin is aglow, as I go on my mini-jaunt in Cali.
While tourists were jamming The City, The Wharf was packed, Golden Gate Park teeming, Animals overwhelmed at the zoo, People from around the world, bumping into each other to see the sights…. the money is flowing…., I needed some time out, some relief from my homeless existence in the City

By gosh, Me, the invisible homeless woman, stepped on, walked through if I don’t jump fast enough. I Decided to be a tourist for a Day, in famous Marin County! This is only my second Jaunt across the Golden Gate Bridge, although I have been residing in the Bay Area for over 40 years,…. Amazing! The opposite direction is my Normal route, To Oakland on the Bay Bridge, and of course the Bart.

My ebony eyes darken, the scenery was magnificent, quiet, peaceful, sublime.
And then I see the sign from the highway, “Welcome to San Rafael” small town U.S. A.
Mayberry R.F. D. a 3 “COP” town. No Crime or Grime in this manicured city.
I didn’t see any signs that read, ‘don’t be a litter bug’ or jay walking fined, or no open containers. No not even a gum wrapper was seen, as I covertly looked for a trashcan.
Yes, manicured streets, flowers galore, voices muted.

“Yipes” I whispered, a vehicle blasting Rap, sped across Main Street, America.
It momentarily stunned me at the noise, but peace resumed quickly.
A silent police cruiser drifted in the corner of my right eye, silently taking note that one of the Homeless has landed on their Sacred Turf. Talk about a welcoming committee!

I casually stroll down the Township streets, window shopping, probably the only person on the streets, 10 a.m. on a sultry August morning. I began to think I had entered the
Twi-Light Zone. Had I left California and entered Alabama, I need to be extra careful in this Neck of the Woods. How do the Police Cruiser move so quiet like. In the “City” all the lights be flashing, wheel squealing running into each other like “Key Stone Cops.
But in San Rafael, they are really the White Ghost, real spooky.

After looking in windows, reading menus, generally ignored, I paused for a break on a cold stone park-like bench, In the Civic Center. The heat was awesome.

The scenery was wonderful but I was bored shitless, and naturally there were no public, facilities. Removing my hot outer clothing, a city hat, I trek on back toward the bus terminal. I was on the look out for refreshments, liquid of course. I looked high and low but I couldn’t find a liquor store. And even though the sun was steaming, there were no water fountains, no little ladies room, and most importantly, no homeless people, yes, I realized, it was time to hit the road.

I lumbered back down the main street, remembering there was a store nearby. I saw numerous stores and restaurants, but with nothing to quench my thirst.
Suddenly I spot a familiar form from home, two white boys, The Haight/ Ashbury hippies, holes in jeans, scraggley hair and all. Even weed smoke drifting over their heads. I declined their offer., but asked where could I by a brew. Oh, what a relief it is Pop, pop, fizz, fizz. One block away right through the alley way, I trot on down, they drift on high.

Then I reach my destination, the “corner store” And then I see them. Guarding the “gate”, are two “peace” officers on either side of the door well. I saunter on pass.
I grab two brews, get in line with two customers. I notice as they leave that they have no problem going past the officers, but me and my brown paper bag are immediately accosted.

“Hello”, they proclaim loudly.

“Hi” I replied.

“Where you from”

“Out of town,” I replied, not naming the place.

“Well there will be no drinking on our public streets.”

I exploded! “I have no damn intentions of drinking on your streets, I am on my way out of this damn town right now,” I shocked myself shouting at this cop. Later I found he is named the gray wolf, by the homeless in San Rafael.

He screamed as I was one half a block away, “See that you are out of here…. before I…”

“What?”, I screamed back, turning the corner, but I was on my way , The Golden Gate Bus line was in my eyesight! Clutching my bag, climbing on the bus, I glanced back, I can feel the cops. Breathing down, behind my back, was a two wheel helmet gun toting police officer making sure I was on my way out of their town.

“Whoa”, I breathed easier to myself. What possessed me to holler at the cop, maybe it was the heat, or maybe I had entered the Twi-light Zone or maybe…. Jim Crow was still alive and well in San Rafael…..

For more of Ms. A. Fayes scholarship on racism click on the Po Poet Laureate button on PNN. To purchase a copy of her recent book; The POOR Nation click on the POOR Press button or call us at 415-863-6306