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Race Talks
I attended Race Talks today, a monthly event with presentations and dialogue run by Uniting to Understand Racism. The topic was Occupy Portland, and two African-American men presented about their involvement with it and their prior histories of activism. They gave some reality checks about why few people of color are involved in the Occupy movement. Hint: police brutality is not new to them!
To my surprise, I saw a woman I know there, so I sat with her. Turned out the woman on my other side had come to dance at my house with a friend of hers once. What are the odds?!? My dance group is tiny, and we've had maybe 30 visitors over time, most from out of town. Well, Portland is like that.
The small-group discussion at my table felt friendly and warm, although I was uneasy that the white people dominated the conversation, even with (because of?) our African-American moderator. I kept my mouth shut and took notes for the group.
When the other two people of color at the table spoke up at the end, it was powerful. One woman, recently arrived from Melbourne, Australia, said she's used to a much more multicultural environment, and she's uncomfortable and disappointed at what she's experiencing here. The other woman said racism is much more overt and sharp in the US than in other countries, and even more so in Portland. Two years ago she wouldn't even get served at restaurants. Now they'll serve her because they want dollars from anyone.
I feel outraged, and sad. Part of me wants to run away from Portland, but if I'm going to be here, I'm going to be part of the solution, not the problem. Not sure yet what that's going to look like, but at least I can listen, and learn, and connect.
I didn't know what to expect, but I figured the odds were I'd feel awkward and out of place like I do most places I go here. Instead, I feel nourished by hearing people's truths, and by being around others to whom multiculturalism is important, others who feel displaced and want to connect.
Although one young man wanted to connect a little too much - he swooped over from another table, and his pickup line was, "Are you Native American?" Uh, no, even though I have a long dark braid... When he asked if I was married, I told him I'm a lesbian and we had a polite little chat. Skeevy.
To my surprise, I saw a woman I know there, so I sat with her. Turned out the woman on my other side had come to dance at my house with a friend of hers once. What are the odds?!? My dance group is tiny, and we've had maybe 30 visitors over time, most from out of town. Well, Portland is like that.
The small-group discussion at my table felt friendly and warm, although I was uneasy that the white people dominated the conversation, even with (because of?) our African-American moderator. I kept my mouth shut and took notes for the group.
When the other two people of color at the table spoke up at the end, it was powerful. One woman, recently arrived from Melbourne, Australia, said she's used to a much more multicultural environment, and she's uncomfortable and disappointed at what she's experiencing here. The other woman said racism is much more overt and sharp in the US than in other countries, and even more so in Portland. Two years ago she wouldn't even get served at restaurants. Now they'll serve her because they want dollars from anyone.
I feel outraged, and sad. Part of me wants to run away from Portland, but if I'm going to be here, I'm going to be part of the solution, not the problem. Not sure yet what that's going to look like, but at least I can listen, and learn, and connect.
I didn't know what to expect, but I figured the odds were I'd feel awkward and out of place like I do most places I go here. Instead, I feel nourished by hearing people's truths, and by being around others to whom multiculturalism is important, others who feel displaced and want to connect.
Although one young man wanted to connect a little too much - he swooped over from another table, and his pickup line was, "Are you Native American?" Uh, no, even though I have a long dark braid... When he asked if I was married, I told him I'm a lesbian and we had a polite little chat. Skeevy.
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Oregon's population is 1.8% black, and Portland's is 5.6% black according to the 2010 US Census. There's white privilege everywhere, but it's extra-thick when white people don't even see black people, or when they (think they) can afford to ignore them. (Oops, 5.6% is all of Multnomah County. Portland itself has a whopping 6.3% black people.)
I'm still thinking about the woman who wasn't served at a restaurant. She told other stories about all the times she's spoken to management about unacceptable treatment. She also said she lived in Seattle for five years and had opportunities there she's never had in Portland, because Seattle is more of a melting pot. Just recently I noticed the wider racial mix while waiting at the Seattle train station, with a sense of relief.
Before I moved here, one person tried to warn me about how white Portland is, but I took big-city diversity for granted and didn't understand the ramifications.
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It's really, really white here. it bothers me because I'm used to vancouver, where there aren't a lot of black folks but there are a lot of people of colour.
Toronto was amazing to me. I thought my head was going to fall off with all the eye contact and nod I was doing - and then my day was made pretty unpleasant when my (white) companion asked me what I was doing.
"It's something I learned from islanders," I explain. "you see a man coming or a woman coming, you look at them, they look at you, and you nod."
"But you're only doing it with black people," he complained. "you're not doing that with the white people you meet."
"that's because either the white people refuse to look at me, or if I nod at them they might take it to mean I want them to come over and bother me. I'm doing it with black people because it is something we do."
"That's racist."
Day. Ruined. My impression of the person I was walking with, tarnished (and then FURTHER tarnished when he started talking about a black woman in his social circles, and imposing all these opinions on her while saying "i'm glad *you're* not like that" and not thinking for a second to maybe check his ass. And it got worse as days went by.)
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Have you found strategies that work well for handling Calgary's whiteness? Are there things you wish white people there would do?