The Phoenix has landed
The chronicles of East to West
Portland is not a city. Okay, maybe it’s technically a small major city of 635,067, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, because of trade or goods or whatever. But the only place that feels like a city is Downtown Portland, which isn’t big at all. Portland has a square mileage of 133.45.
I moved near Chinatown to feel at home in this predominantly white area (73.8% [U.S. Census Bureau]), and there are no Asian people in Chinatown! It’s jumpin’ with clubs and nightlife. I heard stories of the unhoused people finding refuge there — more on that in a sec. Non-Asian people worked in Asian-based establishments. Now, I am fine with people working where they please, but the essence of Asian culture is hardly there in restaurants and in the name “Chinatown.” This city lacks the cultural knowledge, depth, and lifestyle of various cultures, which is very disappointing. Though, I did come form the most diverse neighborhood in the country: Queens, NY.
This ain’t no Queens, and I struggle in being one of the few minorities here. I miss home because I miss the mishmash of cultures and the diversity of people in Queens.
I miss the hustle and grind I hated so much. Everything is slower here, and that’s not a bad thing. But the west coast is definitely more “chill vibes” than NYC, where everything should’ve been done yesterday. I find myself being the aggressor in some conversations. People tell me I talk loudly or that I jaywalk too close to cars. People tell me I have an accent that comes out when I’m angry. Maybe that’s all true, but it’s also all relative. I was a nice New Yorker, giving what I can to the homeless and apologizing for my existence when I bump into someone. But here, in Portland, I’m angry and loud and blunt. I’m dangerous and reckless and assertive.
There are good things about Portland! May has turned into summer, and I love the 80 degree weather. It’s better than when I arrived in April and it rained every day, maintaining 40 degrees. I came here for warmth, and apparently this isn’t the place. Portlanders chalk it up to the Pacific Northwest, leaving me to comprehend the climate changes of the PNW. It also took me forever to know what PNW meant.
I’m much closer to Seattle than LA or the Bay Area. My geography sucks, and I probably should’ve researched more. But maybe that makes this adventure even more thrilling. I’d never been west beyond Pittsburgh, PA.
The people are nice. Everyone says hi to each other, which freaks me out a little, but I’m getting used to it. It’s a dog’s paradise here, lots of Frenchies and Weiner dogs. People can hold a conversation for hours, which kind of makes me feel like a dick for dipping out, but I love the warmth from those I see every day or only once. Everyone tells me about “Portland nice,” which is the passive aggressiveness many people implement. I hate passive aggressiveness. I tell them I’m from New York and we’re just aggressive. I see it sometimes, but I distance myself from them. I’m learning and getting better at that.
Portland is green AF. Downtown, there are tree-lined streets and trees towering over buildings. I love it, nature blooming out of sidewalks. It’s no Central Park, but Portlanders love for trees go beyond aesthetics. Sustainability and going green are HUGE here. Everywhere charges for paper bags, no plastic. Paper straws are common. Public trash cans have a container attached to the side for bottles and cans. Most restaurants have a water cooler with washable cups and bins to separate recycling. Portland is proud of their water that comes from the Bull Run Watershed and the Columbia South Shore Well Field, so the tap water is safe to drink (Portland.gov).
This city draws in young people because of the low rent. However, everything seems to cost more than in New York City! I pay double the price for groceries for half the amount of food. Going out can easily cost $50 if you add one drink. Portland seems to be trying to be LA or NYC, but it isn’t. It’s a large town with a city center and suburbs surrounding it on all sides. Perhaps coming from NYC where the city is sprawling with 19 million people, everywhere seems tiny to me. So yes, the rent is low, but watch out for what you pay for.
As I continue job searching, from what I see is mostly wage work, meaning you’re paid by the hour, not a salary. Benefits may still be included. Some may prefer this, not having to work more hours than you’re paid and getting paid for all the hours you’ve worked, including overtime. However, I prefer the promise of a salary; it means getting a check for a certain amount at a certain time every cycle. Wage work seems unsteady at best, and it kind of is here: a work-as-you-can model. This goes for service work, freelance work, administrative work, health care, and everything else. Could you imagine that your doctor is paid by the hour, worrying about personal finances while you’re telling him your pains?
There is also a dark side to this. More than half of Portland workers are paid less than $20/hour. According to Living Wage Calculator, the livable wage in Multnomah County, where Portland resides, is $21.85/hour. That’s pretty damn low, considering I was a Mental Health Aide for Cascadia Health for three weeks upon coming here and getting paid $21.50, including incentive for the time of shift I was working.
Multnomah County includes suburban areas, where rent is lower, unless you’re in the ritzy subs. More broadly, in 2019, the Oregon Center for Public Policy wrote, “More than half of all Oregon jobs in 2019 paid under $20 per hour, below the ‘survival budget’ level for most Oregon households.”
In my month-long quest to find another job, $20/hour is about the average I have seen. This includes editorial, writing, teaching, librarianship, administrative, nonprofit, mental health care, babysitting, nannying, dog walking, among others. Those stretching into the $30/hour or even salaried jobs include executive and directorial positions, senior or mid-level jobs. For someone starting their life over in Portland, it’s proven to not be an easy feat. Money is always on my mind.
The homelessness crisis! 80% of the people I meet talk about the homelessness crisis in Portland, and yes, it is prevalent, probably given the wage problem and lack of health care. From my observations, there are simply more people in New York City, thus more unhoused people but also more shelters. And in NYC, the unhoused people find places to stay: sidewalks, trains, train stations, bus stops, bridges, etc. They typically find shelter in the nooks and crannies of the city, while in Portland, they are out and about interspersed with housed individuals. The city closed down bridges for the unhoused and Portland does not have underground transit; therefore, the unhoused are more observable in every day life.
While we do not know the proportions of unhoused to housed individuals in each city, we can see varying issues that perpetuate the homelessness crisis. Every major city in America has this problem. A lack of housing, rent hikes, low wages, substance abuse, and stereotyping are among the biggest problems in all major cities.
On the MAX (train) in Portland, we stopped because an unhoused man was screaming to no one. He was by himself. In New York City, that’s another day on any train. No one would bat an eye, let alone stop the entire train. If they did that, the trains would really stop.
It was told to me that Portland is the largest city for human trafficking in the US. People seem to shrug at this infamy. Excuse me, human trafficking?! You have got to be kidding me.
It’s no surprise that there are strips clubs (gay and straight) all around Downtown and the outer suburbs of Portland. I can’t help but think of who and how many women and girls have been taken from their families or forced into this lifestyle. While I absolutely believe sex work is real work, and I don’t cast any shame on people who identify as sex workers, the willingness to be in sex work can be impossible to tell. How do I know if I am supporting human trafficking with my dollar bills? How do I know if a girl who looks me in the eyes is crying for help?
Human trafficking crosses borders, somehow using Portland as a hub to disperse humans to California, Seattle, and Canada. Now I look at everyone in any service job wondering if they’re here against their will. Definitely not a badge of honor.
Personally, I fucking miss my friends, my chosen family all the way on the other side of the country, from where I had to escape. I thought I could find peace here, but that is only somewhat true. The physical space apart from my trauma is comforting, but the mental fractures still hinder my day-to-day life and my relationships with people.
I’m gonna just say it: Portlanders are a bunch of passive aggressive weenies. Like, just say what you mean, dammit! This obviously makes making friends difficult because I am the total opposite from native Portlanders. I’m kinda mean, walk really fast, say things directly, and point out assholery. I’m trying to my kind and sweet, but it’s tiring saying hi to every person you see. An elevator ride turns into a whole ass conversation. Also, my vernacular is very, very different. I’ve seen eyebrows go up to the sky. This is to say that I don’t fit in. I got into an argument with the manager at Powell’s Books because they were illegally selling Advanced Reader’s Copies of books, so now I don’t frequent “The Strand of Portland.” I’ve gotten into arguments with coworkers at my previous job because I said something I should have only alluded to.
I may have lost my only friend in Portland because of my mental health issues, fear of abandonment, and sheer NYC rudeness. I say shit I don’t mean when I’m depressed or disassociating or thoroughly upset, and sometimes I say shit that’s fucking true and the other person can’t handle it.
All this proves to me that I miss and love my Bad Bitches back at home. To my blood brother, I miss you. To my sister and best friend, I miss you. To my former neighbor and homegirl, I miss you. To my ex and now good friend, I miss you. To those elsewhere in the country, I miss you.
You all take shit from other people and don’t run away; you kick it in the ass and tell it to never come back. You don’t play games and create puzzles; you solve them sometimes with a hint of vengeance. We were taught to not take shit from nobody and to clean up messes our way. I have never appreciated that more than I do now.
Speaking of appreciation, I miss being able to call my friends without a 3-hour time and schedule differences. I miss being able to knock on their door and ask for a smoke to bitch about whatever or to enjoy the night air. I miss going on adventures, hiking, shopping, wandering the boroughs of NYC. I miss grabbing bubble tea or ice cream on a whim. I miss just being free and being us. It’s just not the same without you.
My professional goal has always been the same, from coast to coast: give directly to underserved communities in education or youth/family care. I had a whole nonprofit planned for a location in The Bronx. To bring youth in for free to experience “elite” sports, like boxing, rock climbing, yoga, and Pilates. To bring youth after school to read books they want to read. To bring youth and families to workshops led by professionals who understand these families’ circumstances. All for free. Provided by grant money and in collaboration with organizations across NYC. I had a vision. Literally. A vision board of this recreation center.
Then I had to move, for my own mental health and personal safety. I had to go. My lovely friends encouraged me to continue my endeavors here in Portland, but I’m not sure. I have yet to see underserved communities, unless you consider us wage workers underserved since we’re probably working below the livable wage. What I dreamt of, derived from my experiences as a teacher and librarian in The Bronx, would be different here. What is most needed in Portland? Homeless shelters, harm reduction centers, and mental health outreach.
My idea, my vision, doesn’t belong here. Not yet, at least. I need to find a way to help the most vulnerable. Is it the homelessness crisis, human trafficking, or low wages? I don’t know. I’ve only been here for two months. All I know is that I need a job that pays above a livable wage, and that already is grasping at straws.
