Portland

Surviving the Witch-Hunt: Battle Notes from Portland’s 82nd Avenue, 2007-2010

admin — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Surviving the Witch-Hunt is collection of artifacts and commentary from 2007 to the present and catalogues the community forces that emerged after the City of Portland removed its controversial Prostitution Free Zones (PFZ). These zones had allowed the police to issue exclusion orders for those who had been arrested for sex work, even if they had never been charged. For ninety days, anyone arrested for prostitution in the designated area was not allowed to return without submitting an appeal, segregating public space and criminalizing behavior without actual legal indictment.

The uproar from community figures after the removal of the PFZs demonstrated the discriminatory sentiments of many of those living in the 82nd Avenue neighborhood. Those who opposed the end of the PFZs claimed that there was an increase in crime and a correlating decrease in their property value, and they united to fight the “problem” of sex work in their communities. Emi Koyama collected documents that demonstrate their anger toward sex workers and bolsters these artifacts with some social justice commentary, raising arguments that protect the rights of all women and advance a more holistic view of community development. This booklet uses the 82nd Avenue case study as an example of how multifaceted problems cannot be solved via law enforcement but through broader advances in social and economic justice.

Countering the arguments of outraged neighbors near 82nd Avenue, Koyama’s documents describe the harm PFZs do to women who work in the sex industry. The fliers in the collection address the underlying causes of sex work, and explain that improved access to housing, employment, and treatment services are a better response than criminalization. The documents also catalogue the efforts of anti-prostitution advocates who focus on educating men about the social dangers of purchasing sex. This was the most interesting part of the compilation to me, since many anti-prostitution feminists are pushing educational programs as a way to end sex work. Koyama’s work shows that decreasing the demand for sex work, while a seemingly laudable goal, actually harms women. Decreasing demand also reduces the price for services, so sex workers have to do more acts for less money, and it pushes sex work to more remote areas, causing potential dangers for workers. Also, johns who are rational regarding risk taking will be taken out of the pool, leaving a group of riskier men purchasing the services of sex workers. These men are more likely to act violently towards sex workers and are less likely to take safe precautions during sex.

As someone who recognizes that the problems associated with sex work have no simple solutions, I am thankful that Koyama lays out these rebuttals to anti-prostitution groups. Criminalizing and even reducing the amount of sex work will do little to address the more serious problems in our communities. Sadly, the deeply rooted social, racial, and gendered inequities that necessitate sex work too often go unnoticed by policymakers, concerned citizens, and others trying to improve their communities.

As a human rights lawyer, I am personally outraged at the discriminatory attitudes of too many in the 82nd Avenue community regarding the end of PFZs, and I am somewhat embarrassed that I had not known about these events before reading this collection. Many local stories of civil rights conflict, of discrimination, and of survival often don’t reach further than the affected community. By effectively curating a compilation of documents from the 82nd Avenue community, Koyama demonstrates the importance of capturing a historical moment in the trajectory towards justice. The fliers, newspaper articles, notices about community meetings, and email messages Koyama collected were probably designed to be temporary, but in this small archive they combine to tell a powerful story of the strength of community activism.

Written by: Andrea Gittleman, August 18th 2010

Ribbon of Fear

admin — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 08:52:00 +0000

By Hornet Leg

K Records

Ribbon of Fear is a totally solid K Records release that places emphasis on humble production and a certain lo-fi artistic quality. My partner, endlessly amused by my penchant for unsophisticated music, asked if K Records isn’t “that label that will put out anything.” While I did mockingly protest, for a band on the label, the difference between recording in a studio or a basement is negligible. Hornet Leg—a band comprised of Portland, Oregon transplants—is no different.

The album title—and the title track—refer to the lyric, “Sometimes she cries a ribbon of fear.” In fact, most of the songs are named after their own lyrics. “Wait” talks about waiting. “Ruined My Life” is about how “It’s so hard to say/But I think I ruined my life.” I’m also pretty sure there’s a reference to unplanned pregnancy in there—a feminist topic if there ever was one. “Snake Oil” references nostrums. You get the idea.

The band mixes elements of 1960s rockabilly with influences like the New York Dolls and The Shaggs. While the Hornet Leg pastiche may not be wholly original—the vocals are not always harmonious, and the production is not always tight—that doesn’t stop Hornet Leg from having fun making a hell of a nice debut album. Listening to their jams on a chilly Sunday night, curled up with a mug of chamomile tea and my knitting, I felt like the house party had come to my place. Not bad for a drowsy evening on the sofa.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, October 27th 2009

Portland Queer: Tales of the Rose City

admin — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 22:51:00 +0000

Edited by Ariel Gore

Lit Star Press

Portland Queer: Tales of the Rose City is a mixed collection of memoir and fiction short stories that center on the city of Portland, OR. All of the stories are written in first person narrative and beautifully display the diversity of the human experiences which only a city like Portland can provide the backdrop. These stories provide readers with a view of the city that may not have been available before this collection was published. Each tome represents a different view of life in the city as it is lived by the LGBTQI population that calls Portland home. Portland has long been a mecca for the LGBTQI masses and this collection of stories celebrates the many reasons why this is the case.

Editor Ariel Gore wanted readers to know that, “Portland is a queer magnet...and Portland is alienating and phobic...Within these contradictions, there’s also a common experience. In a world that tries to divide us further and further from each other, I want to see our threads woven together.” Gore brings together a collection of stories and raw human experiences, reminding her readers that we are all fragile beings who seek out connections with each other and find comfort in place. For these authors that place is Portland.

The book is broken up into four sections—“Love and Other Sad, Sparkly Things,” “Migrations,” “For Service and Devotion,” “Then Sometimes this Feeling of Home”—and each contains several stories. The first deals with several versions of love and how love can catch us off guard. The second section is composed of stories about leaving and returning to the Rose City, while the third and fourth sections contain stories of living and working in the city.

There are several prominent writers featured in this collection, as well as several first-time writers, which helps to present the variety of styles and viewpoints. Those who have a short attention span, as I do will enjoy the variety contained in these short stories. They're enough to keep anyone in need of good literature who is short on time happy.

Written by: Jenny Greenfield, October 5th 2009

Portland Noir

admin — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 17:01:00 +0000

Edited by Kevin Sampsell

Akashic Books

Noir is easier to recognize than to define. The best dictionary definition I found was, “crime fiction featuring hard-boiled cynical characters and bleak sleazy settings.” Portland Noir, then, has a self-explanatory title: it is a collection of short, dark stories that take place in Portland, Oregon. Akashic Books has published a whole series of similar collections set in numerous cities in the U.S. and around the globe.

Reading this book made me want to immediately find a copy of Chicago Noir. Since I’ve never been to Portland, I felt like I was missing out. I was unfamiliar with the neighborhoods and businesses mentioned, and could not judge the accuracy of Portland’s portrayal. It was clear that the city was more than just a setting; Portland is almost another character in many of the pieces.

Despite my ignorance of Portland, I still found the stories very creative and enjoyable. Some of the tales were more traditional noir pieces, with Philip Marlowe-type protagonists and centering around crimes. Other stories had the feel of noir, but might not fit the classic definition.

As with most short fiction collections, the stories vary greatly. Few readers will enjoy every story, but many will enjoy several. Characters include cops and private eyes, drug addicts and prostitutes, murderers and artists, hipsters and activists. Stories involve murder, blackmail, burglary, torture, vandalism, and even a little romance. There is even a comic book style illustrated story, “Gone Doggy Gone” by Jamie S. Rich & Joëlle Jones. Truly, this book has something for every noir fan.

I felt deep disdain for the narrator of the opening story, “The Clown and the Bard,” by Karen Karbo, in which a sexist low-life gets away with killing his ex-girlfriend. But,I was captivated by the next story, “Julia Now,” by Luciana Lopez, in which a woman becomes obsessed with finding out what happened to a previous tenant of her home. I was strangely captivated by “The Sleeper” by Dan DeWeese, a wandering tale of a newspaper delivery man with a possible substance abuse problem. “Virgo” by Jess Walter is a surprising, and surprisingly funny, story about a disgruntled newspaper employee who alters the horoscopes to harass his astrology-believing ex-girlfriend. The narrator is completely unlikable, yet laugh-out-loud funny:

We’d had the same old fight, with the same stale grievances Tanya had been lobbing at me for three months, almost since the day I moved in: Blah, blah, stalled relationship; blah, blah, stunted growth; blah, blah, I worry that you’re a psychopath…

“Burnside Forever” by Justin Hocking–which opens with the two-word sentence, “Fuck Hawaii.”–reminded me strongly of Michael Hornburg’s novel Bongwater, which is also set (mostly) in Portland. “People Are Strange” by Kimberly Warner-Cohen, is a disturbing story about a woman determined to track down her missing identical twin sister. I’d hate to ruin the twist, but know this: Happy endings are rarely found in noir.

Written by: Kellie Powell, September 1st 2009

100 Dollars and a T-Shirt: A Documentary about Zines in the Northwest US

admin — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 02:43:00 +0000

Directed by Basil Shadid, Rev. Phil Sano, Nickey Robo, Joe Biel

This is a documentation of Portland, Oregon’s zine scene between 2002 and 2004. While it’s kind of basic, it’s worth it to see what Portland’s Reading Frenzy and Independent Publishing Resource Center are doing. Reading Frenzy is amazing – a whole store full of zines. The IPRC, right upstairs, is a nonprofit art space dedicated to do-it-yourself publishing – mostly zines, but also letter press, desktop publishing and other crafty things. Watching this movie makes me nostalgic for that kind of insular “we’re really doing something!” community that I used to feel so invested in - hanging out at Kinkos all night long scamming thousands of copies with my friends, convinced that we were bringing the revolution.

There are some interesting women in this movie. Moe Bowstern is dynamic and captivating, a great storyteller. In fact the title of the movie comes from a story about a skipper on a boat she worked on, who wouldn’t write for her zine, even when she offered him the same thing he received for writing for a trade magazine (a hundred bucks and a t-shirt). I related to the way Nicole Georges described her artistic process, as something she just has to do – fill up a blank book with artwork and writing, then take the least emo parts and make it into a zine. Krissy Durden told a great story about meeting a girl who said Krissy’s zine saved her mom’s life by convincing her not to have gastric bypass. Korrina Irwin talked about zines as an outlet for talking about mental health. These stories rang true and struck deep into my experience of the zine world during the hayday of Riot Grrrl (mid-nineties), when zines were helping so many young women connect the most personal aspects of our lives to the overwhelming political reality we lived in.

The juiciest and most entertaining parts of the movie were 1) watching people read reviews of their own zines – this was where people got animated and showed their personalities; and 2) the acknowledgement of scene hierarchy in the zine world. I liked what Kim Fern had to say about the way younger zine makers will look up to and idolize certain older zine stars, projecting their own insecurities onto these “cool” people they want to be like. Moe gave a great sound byte on the subject: “For all that people are anti-authoritarian in the zine world, people are really into creating heroes.” Coincidentally, Kim and Moe are probably the two most recognizable people in the movie.

I think what feels missing is an articulated politic that reflects what has been going on in the world for the past seven (or 500) years. Nobody talked about Bush, the war, racism or really any politics. They barely even talk about how they feel about anything. Almost everyone in the movie is white, and they do say things like “we need to talk about shit, there’s still sexism and racism in our communities” but it didn’t really go much further. I was disappointed because I would love to see how the political discussion has evolved to since the Riot Grrrl era, and this movie made it seem like it just hasn’t.

There are a number of good deleted scenes in the special features - especially the “pulp history” one, which describes the genesis of science fiction fanzines – but the commentary with the film makers is hard to watch. Every time Joe Biel starts getting into some interesting backstory, Alex Wrekk cuts him off to go “hey there’s me,” or “I hate that chair in our house” or “there’s our cat.” One funny thing that does get pointed out in the commentary, though, is that when asked “why do you do a zine?” almost all the men said “control,” while the women said things like “community,” “connections” and “freedom to express myself.”

I feel the same way about this movie that I feel about a lot of zines – I’m glad someone did it, I’m glad it’s in the world and I’m not jumping up and down. Maybe it’s the pop punk soundtrack (I don’t like pop punk). Maybe it’s the blasé attitude of most of the interviewees, or the super-generic questions (“what is a zine?” “where do zines come from?” “why do people make zines?”). It could be the fact that it says it’s about “the northwest,” but really focuses on a specific Portland scene, or it could be the dated-ness and lack of a relevant political analysis.

But I really am glad they made it. I do believe in the DIY ethic, and I love the idea of documenting our own communities. These people are cute and dorky and earnest and I’m sure their lives are interesting. For all of you reading who like pop punk, who want to get a basic understanding of zines, and who are inspired by the prolific Portland underground scene, you should totally get this documentary, learn about zine culture, and then start your own zine.

Written by: Nomy Lamm, April 9th 2007