April 6, 2021
Na’Keia Warren: What inspired your arrival to Richmond, California?
Robin Reed-Poindexter: My daughter was my inspiration. We lived in Southern California at the time, and I was concerned about relocating to Northern California and not knowing anyone. I was expressing my thoughts while walking from church, and she said, We don’t know anyone here. I knew that it was God speaking through her because she was four or five-years-old, and had an answer for all of my concerns. When I asked her about it later, she couldn’t recall any of it. We moved to Pleasanton, California where my husband’s family was located. One day my uncle Culley and I were driving through Richmond and I thought, This is where I want to be.
I worked for the telephone company and knew that I wanted more for myself than just directory assistance. A Fire Inspector from Santa Clara County came to our church to recruit minorities, specifically women. I wasn’t present that day, but another church member told me about it. The job paid very well and you only worked 10 days per month. I couldn’t imagine a job that paid you more to work less. The Santa Clara Black Firefighters Association had a workshop that conflicted with my work schedule. I worked full-time and didn’t have reliable transportation because my husband would sell our cars. During those times, I rode the bus. I tested for at least five or six places and didn’t pass, including one occasion on my daughter’s birthday. That affected me because I had never failed at anything. My mother sent us to summer school every year, and I graduated early from high school at age sixteen. I didn’t like telling people my age because their demeanor would change. You just learned to blend in. My father always taught me, You listen and you learn. You learn to blend in.
When I received an acceptance letter to proceed with the testing process at Richmond Fire Department, I was really excited. I went full throttle with Richmond! I received a study guide, which I studied backwards and forwards. I used to run the bleachers and do curls with canned yams. I did a lot of things to prepare myself. There was an agility test that would eliminate short people without saying it. I had some platform tennis shoes designed – the best $30 investment I ever made! The agility test included a six-foot wall that you had to jump over. One lady just threw her leg up there, but the desire and determination wasn’t in her because she couldn’t make it over that wall. The first time, I ran into the wall. The second time, I made it over so fast that I almost hit the ground. I made it into the ‘A’ group, which was the top-tier group.
NW: When did you join Richmond’s Fire Academy, and what is most memorable about the early stages of your career?
RP: August 3, 1987. 31.6 years! I was hired to be fired. A list of candidates, which included my name, was meant to be discarded, and my friend Zonnie filed for discrimination. God always provides an angel and a ram in the bush; she was my ram in the bush. I was bounced around a few fire stations during my onboarding. It appeared that no one wanted to work with me, so I went to Milpitas, California where I received more support. During my rotation, one of the training Captains drew a barrel on the chalkboard, wrote my name at the bottom and said, Only the cream rises to the top. He also drew a pair of eyes with the phrase, I got my eyes on you, Reed-Smith! That was my name at the time. Some of the drills were challenging due to my height. During training drills, I’d keep the same running pace as the men and he’d make them run faster. If I couldn’t keep up the pace, he’d have them run circles around me and say, How do you like that, Reed-Smith? You got guys running circles around you! A training Battalion Chief once told me, I had to look and see what year you were born. You were born in the Year of the Dog. You remind me of a junkyard dog. They didn’t hold any punches at all.
At one station, my peers refused to watch basketball or Black Entertainment Television (BET). I worked with a bigot who referred to African Americans as ‘pickaninnies’. It was a good ole boys club. Our complaints fell on deaf ears. I also worked at a station where I was considered an extra, which is a person who answers every call. One day the crew was taking pictures and I tried to join them but was rejected. Their justification for excluding me was that I wasn’t on the shift. How could I work at the station, run on every apparatus that goes out, and not be on the shift? Two of my colleagues could tell that my feelings were hurt and they let me take a picture with them.
One of my colleagues tried to seduce me. We wore shorts and T-shirts under our clothes. When we got an alarm, we’d remove our second layer of clothing and slide right into the turn out box. When I came up behind the door, he put his hand down my pants. I stopped changing clothes around everyone after that. One late night, I was completing an assignment and he fondled and exposed himself! After that, I started going to bed early. I reported that incident. Before he was brought in for further investigation, I was asked if he was limp or erect! How would I know? I didn’t stare! I got injured during the investigation. When I returned, I was told that he wouldn’t be terminated and was advised not to talk to him. Wives of firemen also weren’t fond of me even though I told them that I was married. I kept a mental rolodex of what I should say to each wife. During a conversation, one woman said, Did I ever tell you that I didn’t like you? I told her she hadn’t and proceeded with the conversation. I tried to be accommodating so I wouldn’t put myself in those positions. Then, there was the abuse I went through with my husband. What man meant for evil, God meant for good. He turned it around and made it better for me.
NW: Did you ever feel supported as a crew member?
RP: Yes, depending on the shift. Sometimes there was an all-Black shift, which was rare. They were supportive, but the bigotry was still present. I remember three Black firefighters, including myself, arrived at a lady’s house who asked us, Do you work around here? I thought to myself, No, we just stole this apparatus and wanted to come to your house. One guy actually pulled a shotgun on us! His wife was bleeding on the floor, and he refused to let us in to help her.
NW: I want to pause and acknowledge your courage for sharing your experience with domestic violence. People leave abusive relationships when they are ready – not when their family and friends are ready. Though they mean well, their love and support could be interpreted as judgment.
RP: Some people really don’t understand abuse. Abusers put the fear of God in you and you’re embarrassed at the same time. They belittle you; it’s like you’re invisible. My husband was very controlling. I was abused nine out of thirteen years during our marriage. I couldn’t wear certain clothes, or have visitors if he wasn’t home. I couldn’t wear shorts because my husband said my legs looked like baseball bats. A neighbor used to stop by occasionally to borrow baking ingredients. I’d crack the door open to see what he wanted, give it to him, and close it. I didn’t even want it to look like anyone was visiting. You know the routine – the day could be going perfect, but you don’t know when they’re going to hit you. My parents didn’t know about the fights I was having with my husband. I didn’t talk about it. I hid behind my sunglasses, and didn’t want anybody to see into my soul. When you read my book, “Now I Can See Clearly”, you’ll learn about my journey – not the firefighter journey, but the journey with my village.
NW: What sustained you despite the racism, sexism, and abuse that you encountered?
RP: My faith in God sustained me. I kept reciting, All things are possible through Christ who strengthens me. I earned respect because I’m a hard worker, and my parents raised me that way. My dad was always straightforward and told me that I’d never be one of the boys. He was a union president, and my mother was an active union member. My upbringing prepared me for the fire service and union engagement. Being raised in Omaha, Nebraska I was used to bigotry and being judged.
NW: In addition to your parents, did anyone else influence your fearless disposition?
RP: My [paternal] grandmother, Mama Sadie, lived to be 108-years-old. My firstborn and Mama Sadie share a birthday, February 1st – the first day of Black History Month. Her baby sister lived to be 106-years-old. My [maternal] great-grandmother, “Mommy”, slept with a razor strap and a switchblade to keep the razors sharp, a gun, and a hammer. She might’ve had five things under her pillow. Her husband went out to get some cigarettes and never returned. She raised three kids with no education. She was in school until the White people came and shut it down. Before she died, God rest her soul, I remember she signed her name with an ‘X’. Does it sound like ‘punk’ runs in my family?
NW: I’m looking forward to reading your book, “Now I See Clearly”. What led you to publish something so personal? Have you written anything else?
RP: My husband passed away some years ago. When people ask how he get out of my life, I tell them that God delivered him from me. God not only got him out of my life, he never returned to California. We were able to apologize for the parts that we played in our marriage. While writing Now I See Clearly, it was hard for me because I kept crying. My husband said that I cried too much. Because you’re hitting me. It’s hard for me to cry, and when I do, it’s like turning a faucet on and off. Masking my emotions was one of the mechanisms that I learned from abuse. That helped me in the fire service because I didn’t show any emotion. No one really knew what was bothering me. If something hurt or made me laugh, no one knew because I remained stoic.
Originally, I wanted to write my story to help someone else, but soon realized my own healing during that process. Even if my writing only reaches one person, it’s not in vain. One of my friends back home in Nebraska read my book, and later shared her similar experiences with abuse. I didn’t even know that and I’ve known her for years. My writing also brought my family together. My cousin Frankie designed the cover and drew the art for my poems. His father, Frank Reed, sang with Michigan Avenue and the Chi-Lites until his passing. My granddaughter is my inspiration. We created “Mackenzie Mystery Minis” and the “Middle Maddy” series. She’s my consultant, and edited some of the children’s books for me. I told her to keep the collection going and take ownership if she wants to because everyone has a story; so many stories need to be told.
NW: As first responders, firefighters, among other professions, constantly make personal sacrifices. Your story and contributions to Richmond, California are a testament of your resiliency.
RP: Thank you. I was the first Black female firefighter in Richmond, California. When I became a Fire Inspector, I was the first female Inspector because they didn’t have any women up there at all. When I was promoted to Deputy Fire Marshal, I was the only Black female Deputy Fire Marshal on the West Coast. There were two on the East Coast and one on the West Coast, which was me. The Deputy Fire Marshal position in Richmond has been in existence for 30 years. It was created when a Black man scored highest to become a Fire Marshal and they promoted a White man instead. To appease the Black man, they created the Deputy Fire Marshal position.
NW: Have hiring trends changed since your retirement in 2018? Do you think hiring and promotion practices for women have improved?
RP: Not really. I tried to recruit women for over 30 years. Sometimes when I’d approach them, the first thing they’d do is tell me about their boyfriend who might be interested. I’d asked them if they’d still have a boyfriend after he became a firefighter. Some guys I worked with didn’t stay married after becoming firefighters. I still recruit because I have a promise to keep with God. I promised Him that if he blessed me with this career opportunity, I’d never forget where I came from and would always give back to the community.
NW: What is one of your fondest memories of community service?
RP: I volunteered at Richmond Youth Academy, and developed an etiquette program along with other leaders. We taught culinary skills, professionalism, and etiquette in different settings. I really enjoyed working with those kids; it was really fun.
NW: Earlier you stated, ‘God always provides an angel and a ram in the bush’, which is referenced in Genesis 22:13 of the Holy Bible. How does that verse apply to your life?
RP: When I became a firefighter, I had my parents’ support, and they continued to direct and watch over me. I’m thankful that my father was able to see the fruits of his labor – all of the heart-to-heart talks and words of wisdom. When I was in an abusive relationship with my husband, God provided a way out. My friend, Zonnie was the ram in the bush when filing for discrimination against Fire Academy candidates. My family was the ram in the bush when I had guys running circles around me in the Academy. God always provided that ram, but sometimes I didn’t see it. Sometimes I didn’t feel the angels because I was hurting and trying to dissect everything. I felt like I was in the center of a bullseye. I had Whites and Blacks against me. When I fight, I do it alone because God fights my battles; I’m just a vessel. If people want to mess with the vessel and play with God, they’re on their own.
NW: Wildfires continue to ravage California every year. Can you please provide some insight and prevention tips?
RP: Sometimes people are just negligent. You’re dealing with dry brush. Fires near freeways typically occur in the morning or between 3:00 – 6:00 PM. That’s when people are getting off work and thumping their cigarettes out of the window onto dry brush. There are illegal fireworks during the summer. Unfortunately, you also have a lot of vagrant places and encampments where fires get out of hand.
We used to do firebreaks near people’s homes, so it wouldn’t reach their property and they’d complain about the air quality. While I understand the inconvenience, it is temporary and saves your property. Sometimes the community doesn’t want firefighters to do what they can environmentally.
Everyone is not familiar with fire behavior. It takes three things to have a fire: fuel, oxygen, and heat. The only reason we’re not walking fireballs is because those elements haven’t come together. That’s why you’re instructed to stop, drop and roll during a fire; you’re taking the oxygen away from the fire triangle. Anything can be considered fuel, including your clothes and hair – anything that is flammable. Oxygen is all around us, which is combined with a heating source. There are convection fires where wind and smoke travel, and conduction fires that occur upon contact, similar to your hand touching a pot.
When you’re frying meat and you hear that pop sound, it’s heat reacting to moisture in the meat. If there’s a grease fire, cover it with a lid or move it to another stove. Some people tend to throw water on a fire, but oxygen is in the water. Others want to run with the object on fire and throw it onto the grass, which causes another fire. While running, you’re feeding the fire by giving it more oxygen. Use baking soda, which robs the oxygen and has sodium bicarbonate – the same ingredient in fire extinguishers. Extinguishers have nitric gas that expels sodium bicarbonate. Regardless of the scenario, DO NOT use flour to extinguish a fire. If you ever shake a bag of flour, you’ll see little dust particles, which could be very explosive. I’ve also been asked if salt can be used as an extinguisher. You could, but you might want to add it to something that you’ll eat later.
Now I See Clearly
Wow I can’t believe I opened my eyes
No longer in bondage to Bill’s innocent lies
Now I see clearly to finally be me
My mind, soul and heart can feel the freedom breeze
The words that were said I admit they did hurt
And through my abuse I was building courage
I finally have back my name and added new friends
I’m so very thankful for the village for letting my family in
I told fear to take a seat
Because strength and faith said it was time to meet
Now is the time for us to get reacquainted
Because it’s time and we patiently waited
For you finally opened both eyes to see
That you have arrived to now see clearly
I Feel My Tears
I no longer feel the pain
The tears are flowing to erase the tear stains
My heart can feel the release
And now my soul and thoughts are at peace
When I close my eyes I embrace
The path the tear stains had to take
But now the pain has gone away
I feel my warmth and know that I no longer have to convince myself that
I’m really okay
My tears allowed my spirit to grow
I’m on solid ground but I have to take it slow
I may stumble and might sometimes fall
But whatever steps I take I’ll still stand tall
So my tears are now flowing from my joy
No constant reminder of what they were before
God has blessed me to survive
I feel my tears and they remind me that I’m still alive
I’m thankful that I feel my tears
They help me know that I’m no longer trapped or shivering in my hidden fears
Reed-Poindexter, Robin. “Now I See Clearly.” Now I See Clearly: When You Open Both Eyes You See Clearly,
Outskirts Press, 2019, p. 663.
—. “I Feel My Tears.” Now I See Clearly: When You Open Both Eyes You See Clearly,
Outskirts Press, 2019, p. 664.
Images courtesy of Robin Reed-Poindexter