Black History

COMMENTARY: Notes and Footnotes to a Life in Georgetown

WASHINGTON INFORMER — There is a visceral disregard and aggressive muting of the African-American presence in Old Georgetown.

Published

6 years ago

February 23, 2019

Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja Special to The Informer

By Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja

In the early ’80s, my mother, younger sister and I went to live with my uncle Rev. Dr. James K. McCants where he presided in the church clergy house in Old Georgetown. What would become my address, 2902 O Street Northwest, was owned and maintained by Mt. Zion United Methodist Church, the historic African American house of worship located just around the corner at 1334 29th Street Northwest. This move, from our East of the River house in Hillcrest (Southeast) to Georgetown represented, perhaps, the biggest and most pivotal change in my life.

I didn’t know a lot about the history of Old Georgetown, I only saw the difference in appearance, which was a totally different from the neighborhood I’d left. The sidewalks were made of red bricks or cobblestone and gave the community a type of quiet village charm. The atmosphere was always very tranquil, except on the outer layers of the neighborhood which catered to college revelry, happy hours, and shoppers. In this way, even as nightfall came, the residents of Georgetown maintained a mostly reserved, lights-out curfew of 10p.m. In a town known for blaring go-go music, an exhaustive nightlife, and a growing commuter system, it felt less and less like I was even in the District.

What I remember most fondly were the beautiful tree-lined streets for blocks with colorful flowers along the brick sidewalks. The corner stores were operated by one of two persons, and the neighbors were so well known that shop owners allowed residents to purchase things on a store tab, rather than at point of sale.

Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja revisited her Old Georgetown home recently with Washington Informer staff to discuss the love she maintains for the people and its history.

But by the late 1980s, I rarely saw African Americans in the neighborhood, except on Sundays for church services or on weeknights for occasional programs.

I remember my uncle telling me Mt. Zion was one of the oldest Black congregations in Northwest Washington, and that many of the members consisted of families that once resided in Georgetown – with only a handful continuing to reside in their Georgetown homes not far from the church. Through generations many of the members still attended services and made up large populations of active church members.

Living in Old Georgetown gave me an opportunity to experience a different type of diversity. I was able to attend Woodrow Wilson Senior High which was touted as an exemplary academic space and one that welcomed the children of our nation’s various embassies. In this way, the diversity I experienced as one of only a few African Americans living in Georgetown also spanned to include friendships with families whose surnames included: Shah, Li, Aragona, Ahmadu, Blesendorff, and Iloabachie. Many of these friends discussed how Black builders had to use their fingers to mold and manipulate materials for brickmaking / bricklaying. They challenged me to walk my neighborhood and examine the many African, Negro, Black, African-American fingerprints — locked in stone and pressed into the flesh of architecture of our ancestors.

Initially my friends knew more about the rich heritage of Black Georgetown than I did – which lead me to bend the ears of those around me for constant signs of heritage and “belonging” in a place that while quiet and reserved, maintained a healthy suspicion of Black bodies.

For instance, one of the most telling misfortunes of being whitewashed from a place while you’re living in it, was the anxiety white neighbors felt at having me in what they perceived to be “their space.” I always understood the angry or confused looks, or even the slow police cruiser trailing my cousin (my uncle’s older son) and me to see where we were going, at the behest of “concerned neighbors,” as an indication of their xenophobia or emotional insecurity. We often laughed at white newcomers to Old Georgetown who didn’t understand that their homes were once occupied by and served as the birthing rooms of the very people they now feared. It didn’t matter that the families no longer dwelled in the community, the houses still held their memories.

Since I married and moved away from Old Georgetown, my desire to reaffirm the family-ties of Black Georgetowners has reached a critical level. There is a visceral disregard and aggressive muting of the African-American presence in Old Georgetown. That separation between what lies beneath the surface and what lies in front of us should be bridged by school curriculum, the city’s historical societies, archivists, and historians. Washingtonians of all ages should be taught the history of a place that was once a refuge for slaves escaping the Deep South, as a vibrant Black economic hub courting generational affluence, and as a place where those who did it, remain interred. I am ever grateful to The Washington Informer Newspaper and The Washington Informer Charities for their efforts to bring this history to life through their annual African American Heritage Tour. It will absolutely make a difference in the lives of participants.

This article originally appeared in the Washington Informer.

Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja Special to The Informer

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Activism

OPINION: Your Voice and Vote Impact the Quality of Your Health Care

One of the most dangerous developments we’re seeing now? Deep federal cuts are being proposed to Medicaid, the life-saving health insurance program that covers nearly 80 million lower-income individuals nationwide. That is approximately 15 million Californians and about 1 million of the state’s nearly 3 million Black Californians who are at risk of losing their healthcare.

Published

4 days ago

May 19, 2025

Oakland Post

Rhonda M. Smith.

By Rhonda M. Smith, Special to California Black Media Partners

Shortly after last year’s election, I hopped into a Lyft and struck up a conversation with the driver. As we talked, the topic inevitably turned to politics. He confidently told me that he didn’t vote — not because he supported Donald Trump, but because he didn’t like Kamala Harris’ résumé. When I asked what exactly he didn’t like, he couldn’t specifically articulate his dislike or point to anything specific. In his words, he “just didn’t like her résumé.”

That moment really hit hard for me. As a Black woman, I’ve lived through enough election cycles to recognize how often uncertainty, misinformation, or political apathy keep people from voting, especially Black voters whose voices are historically left out of the conversation and whose health, economic security, and opportunities are directly impacted by the individual elected to office, and the legislative branches and political parties that push forth their agenda.

That conversation with the Lyft driver reflects a troubling surge in fear-driven politics across our country. We’ve seen White House executive orders gut federal programs meant to help our most vulnerable populations and policies that systematically exclude or harm Black and underserved communities.

One of the most dangerous developments we’re seeing now? Deep federal cuts are being proposed to Medicaid, the life-saving health insurance program that covers nearly 80 million lower-income individuals nationwide. That is approximately 15 million Californians and about 1 million of the state’s nearly 3 million Black Californians who are at risk of losing their healthcare.

Medicaid, called Medi-Cal in California, doesn’t just cover care. It protects individuals and families from medical debt, keeps rural hospitals open, creates jobs, and helps our communities thrive. Simply put; Medicaid is a lifeline for 1 in 5 Black Americans. For many, it’s the only thing standing between them and a medical emergency they can’t afford, especially with the skyrocketing costs of health care. The proposed cuts mean up to 7.2 million Black Americans could lose their healthcare coverage, making it harder for them to receive timely, life-saving care. Cuts to Medicaid would also result in fewer prenatal visits, delayed cancer screenings, unfilled prescriptions, and closures of community clinics. When healthcare is inaccessible or unaffordable, it doesn’t just harm individuals, it weakens entire communities and widens inequities.

The reality is Black Americans already face disproportionately higher rates of poorer health outcomes. Our life expectancy is nearly five years shorter in comparison to White Americans. Black pregnant people are 3.6 times more likely to die during pregnancy or postpartum than their white counterparts.

These policies don’t happen in a vacuum. They are determined by who holds power and who shows up to vote. Showing up amplifies our voices. Taking action and exercising our right to vote is how we express our power.

I urge you to start today. Call your representatives, on both sides of the aisle, and demand they protect Medicaid (Medi-Cal), the Affordable Care Act (Covered CA), and access to food assistance programs, maternal health resources, mental health services, and protect our basic freedoms and human rights. Stay informed, talk to your neighbors and register to vote.

About the Author

Rhonda M. Smith is the Executive Director of the California Black Health Network, a statewide nonprofit dedicated to advancing health equity for all Black Californians.

Oakland Post

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Activism

IN MEMORIAM: Nate Holden, State Senator and Longtime Los Angeles Councilmember, Dies at 95

Los Angeles County Supervisor Janice Hahn described Holden as “a lion” in the State Senate and a force to be reckoned with on the Los Angeles City Council.” Hahn added that she learned a lot working with Holden when she was a new councilmember.

Published

4 days ago

May 19, 2025

Oakland Post

Former Los Angeles Councilmember and California State Sen. Nate Holden. File photo.

By Bo Tefu, California Black Media

Former Los Angeles City Councilmember Nathaniel “Nate” Holden, a prominent figure in the city’s politics, passed away at the age of 95, his family confirmed on May 7.

Holden, who represented South Los Angeles for 16 years on the City Council and served one term in the California State Senate, was widely regarded as a forceful advocate for his community.

Los Angeles County Supervisor Janice Hahn described Holden as “a lion” in the State Senate and a force to be reckoned with on the Los Angeles City Council.”

Hahn added that she learned a lot working with Holden when she was a new councilmember.

Holden’s journey to political prominence began in the segregated South, where he was born in Macon, Georgia, in 1929. He often recalled the childhood moment when he first heard the governor of Georgia vowing to continue suppressing Black people.

“Doing the best you can for the people. Law and order. Make sure that people’s communities are safe. I did it all,” said Holden, reflecting on his legacy.

Holden is survived by his sons, including former California Assemblymember Chris Holden, who represented a district in Southern California that includes Pasadena and Altadena in Los Angeles County and cities in San Bernardino County.

Oakland Post

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Black History

Henry Blair, the Second African American to Obtain a Patent

Being a successful farmer required consistent production. Blair figured out a way to increase his harvest. He did this with two inventions. His first invention was a corn planter. The planter had the same structure as a wheelbarrow, with a box to hold the seed and rakes dragging behind to cover them. This machine allowed farmers to plant their crops more economically.

Published

4 days ago

May 19, 2025

Oakland Post

A sketch of one of Henry Blair’s inventions, the seed planter. Image courtesy United States Patent and Trademark Office.

By Tamara Shiloh

The debate over whether enslaved African Americans could receive U.S. Government-issued patents was still unfolding when the second African American to hold a patent, Henry Blair, received his first patent in 1834.

The first African American to receive a patent was Thomas Jennings in 1821 for his discovery of a process called dry scouring, also known as dry cleaning.

Blair was born in Glen Ross, Maryland, in 1807. He was an African American farmer who received two patents. Each patent was designed to help increase agricultural productivity.

There is very little information about his life prior to the inventions. It is known that he was a farmer who invented machines to help with planting and harvesting crops. There is no written evidence that he was a slave.

However, it is apparent that he was a businessman.

Blair could not write. As a result of his illiteracy, he signed the patent with an “X”. He received his first patent for the corn planter on Oct. 14, 1834.

Two years later, taking advantage of the boost in the cotton industry, he received his second patent. This time for a cotton planter. This machine worked by splitting the ground with two shovel-like blades that were pulled along by a horse. A wheel-driven cylinder behind the blades placed seeds into the freshly plowed ground. Not only was this another economical and efficient machine. It also helped with controlling weeds and put the seeds in the ground quickly Henry Blair received his second patent on Aug. 31, 1836

During this time, the United States government passed a law that allowed patents to be granted to both free and enslaved men. However, in 1857, this law was contested by a slaveowner. He argued that slaveowners had a right to claim credit for a slave’s inventions. His argument was that since an owner’s slaves were his property, anything that a slave owned was the property of the owner also.

In 1858 the law changed, and patents were no longer given to slaves. However, the law changed again in 1871 after the Civil War. The patent law was revised to permit all American men, regardless of race, the right to patent their inventions.

Blair died in 1860.