Sweet mornings and bitter truths: The whitest big city in America

I grew up just outside Portland, Oregon, in a neighborhood thick with Cedar trees and tall Douglas firs. The far end of my backyard opened into a breathtaking expanse of marionberry fields. Every summer, migrant workers would arrive from Mexico and bring the fields to life. Buckets and buckets of warm, sweet berries were passed down the lane, weighed, dumped into berry boxes, and loaded on the back of a truck. Cash was paid on the spot.

I was 12 when I started waking up at 5am to join them. It was an easy way to buy a little autonomy and independence. I tied a big white bucket around my waste and swept gloveless hands across the huge berries which fell obediently, like they were already tired of holding on. I moved like the workers, quickly and focused. I attempted Spanish phrases and they grinned at my effort. By 9am, my hands were stained and I was ready to go home to stash my cash. My memories of these mornings are sweet.

Looking back now, I wonder about a little white girl out in the fields with men and women who the current US President has openly referred to as animals. Were they dangerous? Was I unwise? Maybe, but not because of their legal status in this country and not because of where they were from. If they were dangerous, it may have been because decades of poverty and oppression will do that to a person. If the people who should fight for you choose instead to stack the system against you, you will do what it takes to survive. Survival looks different for everyone, and for some, it looks like violence.

I’m not condoning violence and I’m certainly not telling you to send your 12-year-old daughters out to the berry fields, but I am saying migrant workers are human. And while we’re on the topic, let me also say that transgender people are human. Black people are human. People with disabilities are human. Should it need to be said? Of course not, but it needs to be said. If we are not actively struggling against propaganda, we will become infected by it. Inoculate yourself. Speak up. Fight.

This month is Black History Month. When I was picking berries in the fields behind my house, the Oregon constitution still included racist language from when the state had barred Black people from residing there. That language wasn’t removed until 2002 when 70% of people voted to remove it – which means 30% of people voted to keep racist language in the state’s constitution. I grew up thinking Portland was populated by people who love tall trees and moss and the ocean. I grew up thinking Portland was a hippie haven for people who love people. Turns out, it’s for people who love white people. It is, to this day, known as the whitest big city in America.

When I lived in Portland, I didn’t notice the disproportionate whiteness around me (a consequence of white privilege). Now, organizations like the 1803 Fund are teaching me what I need to know - starting with Albina, Oregon. (www.1803fund.com) Albina is an area in Portland where a small population of Black residents built a thriving community that became home to four out of five of Portland’s Black families. In the 1950s, the state began to partition the community, and in 1959 it was bulldozed for the construction of Portland’s Memorial Coliseum. The community and its wealth were decimated and the 1803 Fund is committed to helping them recover.?

The sweetness of those marionberry mornings stays with me, but it's tinged now with the understanding that I was witnessing – and participating in – just one thread in a complex tapestry of systemic inequity. From the migrant workers who harvested alongside me to the displaced Black families of Albina, Portland's history reveals how privilege operates in plain sight, often invisible to those who benefit from it most. This Black History Month, I'm not just learning about the past – I'm learning how that past shapes our present, and how we can reshape our future. Supporting organizations like the 1803 Fund isn't just about righting historical wrongs – it's about recognizing that true progress requires more than removing racist language from constitutions.

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