I am leaving Menucha Retreat in Corbett, Oregon. I've just participated in an intense discussion around racial equity work where the question "What is blackness?" had been put on the table and was being hotly debated. Mount Hood's majestically snowy facade is in my rear view mirror. The carotenoids are poppin' as the sun's light hits the autumn leaves, giving me orange and red life on this clear and cloudless day. The Columbia River glistens in silent reverence of itself to my right, and the powerful green that radiates from the coniferous hill to my left is perfection. Sippin' on my retreat coffee provided by Stumptown roasters, I coast down I-84 in almost-kinda'-sorta' traffic back to P-Town in anticipation of crossing over the Morrison Bridge to get my kiddo from her school and take her to our favorite sushi go-round joint Downtown. Afterwards, a walk through Waterfront Park will cap off the evening as we run from the geese and dodge the cyclists zooming by. We'll go home to her brother who has completed his homeschooling assignments, put clothes in the washer, and is creating another song to play for us before bedtime.
Yep. Portland on a good day. Nope. I didn't just make up that detailed description. Seriously.
Numero dos on my list of non-regrets is moving to Portland, Oregon. Surprising, I know, for those who know I'm trying to get the hell outta' here for my own sanity. But, yo...for real, though. I am SO glad I moved here.
Yep. So glad.
I've managed to paint for you a cool little picture of this lovely small-city-big-town that has had the dubious honor of being the whitest city in the United States of America. Yep. There is much that goes with that tidbit, and I will get to it, I'm sure, later in this post. But for now let's focus on the picture I painted. I mean, it's part of the reason my family and I are still here and why I am glad I moved here.
I grew up in Los Angeles, California in a part of town that didn't have a name, really, until recent years. My neighborhood is snuggled between Inglewood and Watts, if that makes sense, with Gardena to the south and (what used to be) South Central to the north. In a later post, I'll talk about why I don't regret moving from this bustling city that is my birthplace; however, don't get it twisted. My life growing up here was cooler than a mutha and that city is its own legendary, culturally-spicy entity on the planet. I find that I am proud to say I'm from L.A., and even more proud that my roots are based there.
Portland, though, has taught me a lot about myself and how I relate to the world. Like Treach rapped so beautifully back in '91, "No matter where ya' go/there ya' are!". I fled to this city that is less than a mil deep compared to my hometown's 3.6 million-plus population. I fled here, runnin' from my old life, runnin' from teaching, runnin' from my son's father (who ran after me and became my husband), runnin' from my family's judgments, runnin' from traffic and gang-bangin' and more traffic*, runnin' from myself.
"No matter where ya' go/there ya' are!"
I arrived here with $750 in my bank account and no job. Yep. Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes-style. All good, except I had a 7 year-old son in tow and a new life to create, STAT. My brother and sister-in-law were lovely enough to hook us up with a couple of rooms in their house and let me slide on the rent for two months while I got my footing. I immediately grabbed onto and held down two jobs and made moves to get my masters degree. It was hard and it was lonely and it was painful and lovely and fun as hell to discover that this city was nothing like my hometown. I hung out with single white folks who really liked me and wanted to spend time with me. They eventually couldn't grasp why I couldn't bar-hop with them on a random Wednesday night. They didn't know who The Isley Brothers or Jodeci were but jumped down my throat when I couldn't name more than one Talking Heads song (Seriously. That shit really happened.). Hell, the only reason I even know "Burning Down the House" is 'cuz of Video One with Richard Blade and KIIS FM. I mean, I have a diverse palette when it comes to music, but damn! Cut a sista' some slack.
Digressing.
Anyway, that life in Portland seems like a lifetime ago, although it's only been 6 years. It's no longer just me and my baby boy. In 6 years, I've managed to have another child, finish that masters, get married, and repurpose my purpose (sorta'). This is a whole new life in Portland. I'm creating relationships that are meaningful and I realize the impact I have on other folks. Portland life has been good to me and I don't regret moving here. Why? I guess I'd better get to that.
I actually don't regret moving here because:
1) I would only have sipped on Heinekens and Coronas for the rest of my life. No. I really think I would have. That early bar-hoppin' exposed me to strawberry wheat beer, IPA, stout (there is chocolate stout, for God's sake!), and a host of tastiness that makes me scoff at the thought of ordering another overpriced Heineken. Like, ever. Let's not even discuss the red wine I've been exposed to. Yep, I'm bougie now.
2) Planning to move to Portland in February and actually moving in August of the same year proved that I am a bonafide bad-ass. Yeah. It does. Sorry if you disagree, and I know people do it all of the time. Or not. It's the "or not" that puts me in the category of bad-ass. With $750 and a kid, with no job? Just confidence, a degree and a credential, and hope? Bad-muthableepin-ass. Don't hate.
3) Green is really a color. Green exists. Portland and the state of Oregon have taught me this. Green in all of it's greeny glory simply radiates at full pulse here. Green like in the crayon box, green. Green like you've never seen, green. Green is important and green is here.
4) I have come to realize that I am loved. I spent most of my life feeling zero love for myself and I never really understood why people were drawn to me or even wanted to be my friend. I know now that being unable to accept love is a direct reflection of one's own lack of self-love. I moved here completely oblivious to who I was leaving behind and how impactful that was. I remember friends and family being sad, and I couldn't empathize because I was ready to go. Being here now and taking myself with me, I understand that eventually that loathing of myself would rear its ugly head, even here in Portland. It has, numerous times. The difference now is that I'm aware of it and working to increase my self-love. If I hadn't fled here, I might never have known this. Nah. I KNOW I wouldn't have known this.
5) It really does take 30 minutes to get someplace that is 30 minutes away. It really does take 6 minutes to get someplace that is 6 minutes away. I am so glad that I have experienced this in my lifetime. It is possible to not sit in your car for an hour. It is possible.
6) I understand that white folks don't have to think about a lot of things. Give or take the white colleagues I had the pleasure of working with, I didn't have white friends in Cali once I hit adulthood (with the exception of Amy...HOLLA!). I lived 10 minutes from all of the schools I worked in and my friends were in town. I co-mingled with white folks, but they weren't really a part of my fabric. Now, though? Things are different. So different. I am surrounded by white people all day, every day. My children are surrounded by white people. We are surrounded and inundated with dominant culture like never before, and it has affected our family to its core. I don't want to make this a racial equity piece, so I will just say that moving here has proven to me without a shadow of a doubt that white folks don't have to and don't like to think about a lot of things. Nope.
7) I have finally made peace with the fact that I abhor mud. I thought something was wrong with me and I should get over it, but no: Moving here has solidified this hatred and I am okay with that.
8) I am truly bad-ass. This bears repeating. I may or may not have discovered this while I was in L.A. because of that whole self-love ish. But yo: You have to check my resume' now. I've led and facilitated groups, been on boards and shit, taught dance classes, organized events, paneled discussions, created curriculum, advised teaching staff, and am really just a bonafide mover-and-a-shaker. Had to move here to grasp that, unfortunately, but hey!
9) I have been exposed to organic food, cooking on a regular basis, and paying good money to eat well. My baby boy grew up on those frozen chicken dinosaurs from Costco and boxes of Pasta Roni and Tuna Helper. Now, I'm not knocking that because that got us through and gets most of y'all reading this through. Hell, when times are lean, I'm tempted as hell to heat up some ramen and call it a day. Moving here, though, exposed me to a culture of eating well and growing your shit and reading labels and watching documentaries and passing on the good news about changing how you eat. Of course, we ain't perfect and we partake of wack ish, too. But I don't know if I would be cooking as much or reading labels as much had I not changed my scenery.
10) I wouldn't have my baby girl if I hadn't moved here. Period. I know that my life in L.A. would be where it was when I left: Chuck and I wouldn't be together or would be kinda' together or whatevs. I know that everything happens in its own time and our girl was conceived here out of sheer head-over-heels love and heart/soul commitment.
There are a ton of other reasons why I don't regret moving to Portland, Oregon. I could go on and on, but the crux of my deep and profound appreciation for the move stems in my self-realization. It brings to a head the ongoing love/hate affair I have with myself and how, contrary to Treach's admonition, I keep expecting someone else to be in the space I occupy. That ain't happenin'. Moving to Portland has made that painfully obvious, yet it's so wonderful to be able to be aware of it. Awareness moves me in the direction of making it right with myself so that I don't find that I must flee, anymore.
Trust me: I want to flee from this town every other week. I can't run from it, though. I can't run from the love that my family and I have established here. I can't run from the life we have established here. I can't run from myself. There is too much at stake now. I'm gonna' have to fight through it and understand the grace that has come to me through this move.
Plus, the Hefeweizen is plentiful here.
*For the record: There is a bit of traffic here, too. Gang-bangin'? We've got Hoovers and GD's, to name a few! Utopia, PDX is not. But it's home.
