DYSPEPSIA GENERATION

We have seen the future, and it sucks.

How Portland Is Driving Away New Residents of Color

28th August 2017

Read it.

No doubt seeking to sustain its reputation as the Whitest City in America, despite being on the Left Coast.

At a lecture in Portland last October, Isabel Wilkerson—the Pulitzer Prize-winning author who wrote about the great migration of Black Americans from the south to the north—said that when people leave a place, it’s often a referendum on the very place they leave.

No doubt why people are leaving California and New York for Texas.

So then what does it mean when I, and other people of color (POC), walk away from Portland because we can no longer stomach its racism? What does it say about Portland and specifically, the failure of its liberalism?

Principally, it means you’re a bunch of whiners who see racism under every bush. Look at this picture and try to find the Person of Color (POC):

I’ve been wrestling with these issues ever since I moved to Columbus, Ohio, in July. But before I left, I spent my last month in Portland traveling the city, asking POC how their experiences mirrored or differed from my own. What struck me was the very frank and seldom heard opinions by POC born and raised in Portland who are tired—understandably so—by new transplants like myself criticizing their city.

Maybe they know something you don’t — life isn’t about searching for new and exciting ways to be a victim.

I quickly grew accustomed to being asked by white people about my ethnic heritage—whether at the grocery store, sports bar, or on TriMet—and learned to say that I’m Indian American in the first few minutes of practically every conversation, just to set them at ease. It never really worked. They specifically wanted to know about the “Mohamed” in my last name.

Maybe it’s all the people around the world named ‘Mohamed’ who are blowing up random strangers. Just maybe. If being white is enough to make you a white nationalist, then maybe being ‘Mohamed’ is enough to make you an Islamic terrorist. Just maybe.

The thing is, I tried liking Portland. I even co-founded a podcast, Racist Sandwich—covering food, race, gender, and class—hoping it would make me feel at ease in Oregon. It never worked. Call me privileged, call me spoiled. Accuse me of taking up too much space in this city. These are all fair criticisms. In fact, I left last month with a heavy heart and many apologies to dole out, especially to the POC who were born and raised in Oregon, whose voices and experiences I fear I might have misrepresented or worse, muzzled.

In other words, the Victim Card didn’t work for you. Boo-hoo.

Steve Sailer says it best:

Reading all these I Cried Among the Farmland essays of Immigriping, I have to agree with one commenter: They’re not sending their best.

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