LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Out: Fay's Rehoboth Journal - I (Almost) Cannot Tell a Lie |
by Fay Jacobs |
Bonnie made a liar out of me. To the police, no less. The saga began two weeks ago when our intrepid editor Steve Elkins invited me to join him for the Rehoboth Beach police sensitivity training session on hate crimes. I knew Steve participated in the session every year and I was honored to be asked to join him. Realizing Id have to prepare some comments in addition to being available for questions, I thought back to the hurtful occasion where Bonnie and I were threatened with a hate crime. It happened in Key West of all places. It was a beautiful evening, as Bonnie and I and two friends, dressed for a lovely dinner, walked towards the inviting lights of Duvall Street. As we dodged a huge puddle in the road (fearful of getting our prissy sandals wet), our quartet fanned out in opposite directions. Suddenly, from nowhere, a low-rider Chevy with dark tinted windows careened around the corner, almost mowing us down. "Whoa" I said, motioning to the driver, mostly as a reflex, as he came within inches of my shoes. "Hey!" hollered Bonnie, in much the same manner. The car screeched to a halt, a young man got out, screaming "Dykes! Dykes! You f-ing Dykes were in my way, Godammit. F-ing dykes," And then he let fly with a string of obscenities that, if the four of us hadnt been pale from fear, would have made us blush bright red. Not only were we horrified for us, but a mother and her pre-teen daughter standing close by were appalled as the jerk continued to scream threats at us. I was scared for me, embarrassed for the scene, and sick to my stomach. "Dykes! Dykes! Ill kill you, goddam dykes!" Bonnie ran to the back of the car to get the tag number. I ran toward the nearest restaurant to call the police and our brave friends turned on the creep, shrieked at him with a dose of his own medicine and watched his girlfriend grab him back into the car. When the vehicle finally squealed away, we were left standing, stunned, in the street. "Are the police coming? Bonnie asked me. "No, they said if nobody got hurt they dont bother." But we were hurt, badly. And it took a lot of tears, discussion, and venting our anger to calm us down. And none of us would ever think of Key West quite the same way again. It was a lesson I wanted to pass along to our local police force. On the night of the sensitivity training, Steve and I joined Chief Doyle and the summer police recruits to watch an excellent film about hate crimes. With its emphasis on racially motivated hate crimes, as well as synagogue defacing and gay bashing, I realized, eerily, I could speak to two thirds of the problem. Following an introduction by Chief Doyle, Steve got up to speak. He introduced himself as a gay man, eloquently described the mission of CAMP Rehoboth, then introduced me by name, adding that I was a lesbian. Oohph. That was the first time Id been introduced to a room full of people by my sexual orientation. And there was even a reporter from The Washington Post sitting in the back of the room covering the meeting. Well, one of the things we try to explain about our lives is that the process of "coming out" is evolutionary. Its not just once; its a thousand little "coming outs" over a lifetime. For me, as open as I am about my life, this coming out was a milestone. I smiled at the fresh-faced young recruits to acknowledge the introduction and turned my attention back to Steve. His short presentation touched on the diversity of the gay community itself here in town and the expectations we have for professional conduct by the police, whether it be enforcing the laws or investigating criminal incidents. Steve made a special point of breaking down stereotypes, noting that not all gay men are effeminate and not all lesbians drive pick-up trucks. It was a light and humanizing presentation. When it was my turn, I introduced myself as a non-pick-up truck-driving lesbianevoking smiles from the normally reserved crowd. I went on to tell the Key West gay bashing story. "It ruined my entire vacation there," I said. "And it was the total indifference by the police which made it doubly hurtful. Here in Rehoboth, you have the opportunity to do better. " If racial, religious or anti-gay hate crimes, harassment or name calling occur here (and, lets face it, ignorant jerks happen) our police force has the chance to treat the incidents with the kind of sensitivity which could salvage peoples feelings about their experience and our town. I told the crowd that they could really make a difference. And the eye contact and feedback I got from the presentation told me that we have a group of young men and women on the Rehoboth police force who understand the value of diversity in this community and who will do their best to behave both professionally and sensitively. For me, it was a wonderful evening, because I was doing just the kind of volunteer service I was never able to do in my hectic, suburban, commute-filled life back in Maryland. Oh yeah, the liar part. Within days of identifying myself as a non-pick-up truck lesbian, Bonnie went out and bought a bright red Chevy S10. You should see this baby! Holy Sussex County! Why, we can plug in our radar detector and cigarette lighter at the same time! And heres good newsthe doors stay open without the dome light shiningto keep from scaring off the deer. I know Ill be using that feature all the time But if you see those police recruits, please tell them that its Bonnie hauling concrete patio blocks and 2x4s from Lowes. The only time I intend to get behind the wheel is for an annual power shop back at Nordstroms. Yeee-Haw! Authors note: While I swore never to mention new home-buying again, this note is for folks like Todd from Insight who made me promise to let him know if things turned out okaywell, Todd, we finally settled on the house, were moved in and loving it. And to Patty and Eda, thanks for the cool Rehoboth Hobo hats and T-shirts! They helped us survive the transition. Fay Jacobs, a regular contributor to LETTERS, is Executive Director of Rehoboth Beach Main Street. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 9, No. 7, June 18, 1999 |