Dear youth of today,
A few years ago, I was not long into my position as Assistant City Manager at the City of Hillsboro. I had left the private sector and was excited by a role which was envisioned to include diversity, equity and inclusion; community engagement including the Hillsboro 2035 Community Plan; employee engagement; homelessness; our Communications & Marketing Team; and our Human Resources, Parks & Recreation, and Library Departments. I am grateful to be in a role that serves our community in numerous ways, and I am grateful to bring my experience and identity to the work.
I grew up in northeast Portland, Oregon, on a relatively interracial block, probably 40/60 black and white. I have a small immediate family, my mother who is Scottish-Canadian (white) and my father who is African-American (black), my sister and myself. When my parents married, black/white interracial couples were still uncommon. The couples we knew who had children chose to raise them with one of four identities: black, white, biracial or other. I identify as black – my parents made clear to me that the world would see me as black, with the associated mistreatment, disregard, and miscalculation; and that from their perspective, turning from my identity would be a disservice to myself, my family and my community. Being a black woman is a source of strength and pride; and I credit much of my strength to attending a historically Black college and university (HBCU), Hampton University, and traversing the path that led me there.
When I attended elementary and middle schools, in north and northeast Portland, the student populations were 50% or more black students. It was not until high school that I experienced a school that’s demographics starkly contrasted my neighborhood’s. I attended Woodrow Wilson High School (now Ida B. Bells High School), located in SW Portland, where less than 5% of it 1,600 students identified as people of color. I never remember feeling welcome.
After my freshman year in high school, when I was 14 years old, I attended a math, science, and engineering summer program at Clark Atlanta University (CAU), another HBCU, in Atlanta, Georgia. For six weeks, I was in a rigorous educational setting filled solely by black students, professors, administrators, and staff. It was the first time I felt academic arms wrap around me so completely. And it was the first time I did not feel the weight of racism.
When I returned from CAU and normal studies at Wilson, the weight of racism returned. I didn’t know how to change the racist perspectives of adults and students who were not welcoming of black children bussed to their school. But I knew it was wrong and that there was a space in which I would not need to tolerate it. With my parents’ support, I decided to graduate a year early. I took an additional year of English and math at Portland Community College, with its diverse student body – age, gender, race, ethnicity, immigration status and more – my decision to explore the world outside of one of the whitest cities in the nation was reaffirmed.
During my final year of high school’s Homecoming assembly, members of our football team yelled, “why don’t you n*****s go back to Jefferson?” at members of our football team. The football team members were white and the basketball players were black. The teachers did not move to remove the football students from the assembly, instead they moved to the area where the majority of the black students were sitting. The football team members were not suspended until after the football game. A student walkout resulted. This event solidified my anger against a school system that dismisses racist actions and seeks to silence the voices of students of color.
In August of the same year, I left Portland to attend Hampton University in Hampton, Virginia. I was 16 years old, and for four years, I was immersed in a black community of scholars, artists, athletes, friends, and a few frenemies. I learned about the history, arts, and music of the black community and that those are not separate from United States history and culture rather they are the bedrock.
My experience away from Portland was foundational for my identity. It taught me the importance of identity, community, service, and voice and helped build the resilience I have needed to navigate my role and the issues that have arisen over the past two years: the subpoena of City of Hillsboro’s records by United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the fear it created in our immigrant communities and communities of color, the murder of George Floyd and accompanying calls for police reform, bias and hate crimes against Asian American and Pacific Islander community members, and the COVID-19 pandemic.
Ultimately, my work is to advance others’ voices, to support them in living into their identities, and to build up community through service –within the City of Hillsboro and in our Hillsboro community.
Thank you for the opportunity to share a piece of my story.
Simone Brooks
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