Oregon is different

Oregon Is Different

I was born in Oregon. But I grew up in the Bay Area. So when I came back to Oregon as an adult, I had to leave my California ways behind. Oregon is different.

People come here from all over now. From California, from other states, from other countries. They bring their food, their languages, their hustle, their dreams. I get it. I was once the outsider too. But sometimes it feels like people arrive here without looking at the history of this place first.

Oregon has a history. And it’s not all pine trees and Pinot Noir.

Oregon was founded as a white utopia. Literally. The 1859 state constitution banned Black people from living here, owning property, or making contracts. That exclusion clause wasn’t repealed until 1926. Sundown towns existed here. Redlining existed here. Vanport flooded in 1948 and displaced a whole Black community. Systematic racism isn’t just a Southern story. It’s an Oregon story.

So when new people move here — whether from Los Angeles, from Guadalajara, from Saigon, from Mumbai — and say “Oregon is so liberal” or “Oregon is so white,” I want to say: Yes. And do you know why? 

It’s not an accident. It’s architecture.

I had to learn that too. Coming back from California, I had my Bay Area pace. My Bay Area directness. My Bay Area expectation that diversity was the default. Oregon slowed me down. Oregon quieted me down. Oregon made me read. Made me listen. Made me realize that being born here didn’t mean I understood here.

Oregon is different. 

The racism here isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s in the silence. It’s in the stare at the Fred Meyer when you’re the only Black woman in the aisle. It’s in the way “we don’t see color” gets used to avoid seeing history. It’s in the way people say “it’s so weird, we’re so progressive but…” and then stop the sentence.

So to the folks who just got here: Welcome. Really. I love that Salem has pho now. I love that Woodburn exists. I love that my neighbors speak Spanish, Russian, Marshallese. That’s beautiful. 

But also — know where you are. Read about the 1857 exclusion laws. Read about the Portland Black Panthers. Read about Beatrice Morrow Cannady. Read about how Albina got bulldozed for I-5 and the Memorial Coliseum. 

Because if you don’t know the history, you’ll keep repeating it. You’ll bring your ways and steamroll what’s already here — the good and the bad. You’ll call it “weird” when it’s actually wounded.

I had to unlearn California to live in Oregon. Not because California is bad. But because Oregon isn’t California. It has its own scars. Its own pace. Its own way of healing.

I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad you’re here. But let’s do each other the respect of knowing the ground we’re standing on.

— Cathryn M. Harris  

Born in Oregon. Raised in the Bay. Back in Oregon by choice.  

51, soon to be 52. PhD Candidate. Still learning this place.  

Teeth and all. History and all.