Marin County May Be the Fakest ‘Woke’ Place in America
By: Alex Madison
Tags: Bay Area, Racism, Race, Social Justice, Equality

Marin County May Be the Fakest ‘Woke’ Place in America

Photo: Diane Bentley Raymond/E+/Getty Images

It was a proud moment for Little Fawn Boland, an attorney who identifies as Native American, when she bought a home in Mill Valley — a ritzy city in the heart of Marin County to the north of San Francisco — with then-partner Keith Anderson. Both had come from poor backgrounds, and securing this home and piece of land in one of the Bay Area’s richest towns signified a major reward for years of hard work. Sadly, though, the joy of moving day was diminished by racist comments from their new neighbor.

“He saw us moving in and asked if we were renters,” Boland said. “When I said we bought the house, he pretty much asked: ‘How could you afford it?’ He was so in shock. He was basically saying ‘You don’t belong here.’”

Marin County is a place of contradiction. Here, Biden and Black Lives Matter signs dot perfectly manicured lawns, but racial microaggressions permeate the community. Brown women are assumed to be nannies for their own children. White residents tote their liberalness — their wokeness — only to look at people of color in their space with suspicion. All of this is paired with decades-old, systemic racist structure in place to keep them out.

A recent study from the University of California, Berkeley showed that six out of the 10 whitest municipalities in the Bay Area, those that have 90% or more white people, are in Marin. Marin County’s overall population is only 1.68% African American. Mill Valley is .78% African American.

The reasons are multifaceted but largely due to the alarming lack of public transportation and multiunit housing — not to mention the continued efforts to keep it that way.

For Anderson, a part of what shapes his everyday experience in Marin is the time he spends planning his response to a racist attack. “When I visit a store, I think about how I will deal with someone making a crazy, racist remark,” Anderson, who is also an attorney, said. “If I see a police officer, I start running through scenarios of what I’ll do if I get pulled over.”

On multiple occasions, white people have stopped him while shopping at a grocery store and asked, “Where are the apples?” assuming he works there. Then when he says he doesn’t know, they call over a manager to complain about a bad employee.

“It’s only Brown-skinned people who have these experiences,” he said.

Although Anderson and Boland said they feel accepted and welcomed in their community overall, these moments have an impact on them and their daughter, who is the only nonwhite student in her class and often asks “Why am I Brown?”

“At first you want to lash out,” Anderson said. “But you’re always worried about being seen as the angry minority with a chip on their shoulder. All of this takes a toll.”

This feeling is shared by another Mill Valley resident, Ravi Lescher, who on different occasions has been mistaken for the nanny of her blonde-haired, blue-eyed son. She’s biracial, half-East Indian and half-white.

This same experience was echoed by a Latinx mother whose husband posted on Nextdoor explaining the times she’s been asked what her rates are for nanning as she walks with her white-presenting children. The post received over 300 comments, many from people of color who shared their racist experiences.

Lescher, a physical therapist, said it comes down to white people in Marin not knowing any other world.

“They make assumptions based on their limited life experience and the bubble they live in. Like if you’re Brown you must be hired help,” she said. “We all make assumptions based on our life experiences, but there is a conflict with people in Marin between seeing themselves as liberal and progressive and the assumptions they make about people of color. White people should learn to face these assumptions and question them.”

Lescher recognizes that her experiences are “micro” and that if she were poor, the attacks and outcome would be worse. But her experiences are not without effect.

“It makes you feel less than, like you have to explain yourself and no one should have to do that.”

San Rafael, where people of color make up 30% of the population, is one of the most diverse cities in Marin County, but its neighborhoods are highly racially segregated. Debra Taube, a white Jewish resident of San Rafael, said Marin County leadership has the same conversation around increasing diversity in education, housing, and policy every year without ever substantially changing anything.

Taube is a leader for the Marin chapter of Showing Up for Racial Justice (SURJ), a national network that organizes white people for racial justice, though all ethnicities participate in the group. She said it’s not the burden of people of color to educate white privileged people about racism — it’s white people’s.

And Marin has a lot of work to do. Local SURJ leaders work with the Marin County Board of Supervisors and city counselors to educate and advocate for local legislative action aimed at increasing diversity within the school system and propelling multilevel-income housing initiatives in the county. SURJ also holds workshops for its members to educate about race and how to be a white ally.

“White liberals are some of the hardest people to work with because they are very attached to being good white people and don’t believe they are racist or prejudiced,” says Taube. “But if you look at the data, policies, lack of affordable housing, and the shameful disparities in education, it’s undeniable.”

Marin County is filled with liberals and county leaders who talk a big talk about progressive policy, but when it comes to increasing diversity in their community, they fail.

Last month, members of the Marin County Board of Supervisors voiced opposition against adhering to a state mandate that aims to create housing for people of all income levels, citing density and fire evacuation concerns. Developers’ projects for unhoused and low-income people have again and again been voted down by city counselors and well-funded neighborhood associations.

People of Marin have reelected County Sheriff Robert Doyle for years, she mentioned, despite his cooperation with Immigration Customs Enforcement in 2019 to deport immigrants.

After the Black Lives Matter movement soared in 2020, attendance to SURJ meetings have nearly tripled, Taube said, adding that she believes white people in Marin are slightly “waking up.”

Zphyna Caldwell, a Black woman and Marin City resident who owns her own youth theater company called Interactive Enrichment, said growing up in Marin, she always felt “different being poor and Black.”

She recalls having to stand in a separate line to get lunch at her Mill Valley school because she was on a reduced lunch program. “The line was always filled with Black kids,” she said. “As a young person, having to show everyone else you were poor was so embarrassing. I would usually steal my lunch.”

As an adult Caldwell says she hasn’t experienced overt racism, but her brother has a different experience living here. He’s been pulled over countless times by Marin cops. She said this is simply a city of white, rich people who hire nannies and house cleaners and “that’s the world they live in.”

Although everyone interviewed for this article expressed that they believe Marin, is filled with good people, they also know firsthand that racism is alive and well, regardless of how progressive the county advertises itself to be. They agree that for too long the community has thrived in its enclosed environment of white privilege. Huge shifts in leadership and policy are needed — but to bring about real change, white residents of Marin County need to personally speak up, unlearn their biases, and show up for their Black and Brown neighbors.

White people of Marin need to put in the work to understand how their privilege affects others, why their words and assumptions are offensive and harmful, and how to listen and learn from those who experience racism. If we can do that, we can make Marin County a better place for everyone to live.