By Isabella Garcia for Yes!
Broadcast version by Eric Tegethoff for Public News Service
Reporting for the YES! Magazine Media - Oregon News Service Collaboration

PORTLAND, Oregon, August 20 - It's the 84th day of consecutive protest against police brutality and systemic racism in Portland, Oregon. People have gathered at a neighborhood park and are preparing to march to the police union building, the Portland Police Association. They're led by the Black Youth Movement, a group of 20 young people who aim to elevate Black youth voices.

About 60 people mill around the park; some socially distance on grass while others visit the snack table, courtesy of a group called PDX Resistance. The PDX Frontline Drumline, a group of drummers in matching purple shirts, practice a few riffs as the park fills in. Near the street, a group of motorcyclists and bicyclists gather and strategize the best way to block off intersections and keep the marching route clear and safe for the protesters.

One member of the Black Youth Movement (BYM) gets on a megaphone and asks people to start filling into the street behind the car that will set the pace. Just then, the Snack Van - a sprinter van with "BLM" graffitied on the side, known for supporting protests with snacks and medical aid - turns the corner.

"We didn't ask them to come, but we're really fortunate and really happy that someone's going to be here and bring water and stuff like that," says Z, a BYM member.

It's decided that the Snack Van will bring up the rear.

This is how the Portland protests work: autonomously.

Portland has sustained more than five months of protests against police brutality and systemic racism after the death of George Floyd, pausing only when statewide fires created air quality so hazardous that merely stepping outside in a common cloth mask would bring the bitter taste of carcinogenic particles into your mouth. The Portland protests drew national attention when President Trump sent federal troops to "quell" the protests and "protect federal property" in early July. While the national attention has since subsided, Portlanders calling for the defunding of the Portland Police Bureau are continuously being reinvigorated and reimagined.

Underpinning these protests is a network of community groups and mutual aid services created by and for the protesters and supporters of the movement.

Autonomous Organizing

Protests, events, and calls for direct action in Portland are led by a variety of groups, the Black Youth Movement being one of them.

The Black Youth Movement was born at the beginning of the Portland protests in late May, days after the police killing of George Floyd. Several community members that now make up the group met in the streets while protesting alone and formed a connection. They came together to process their emotions collectively, support each other, and elevate youth voices in the movement for Black lives.

"A lot of times our voices aren't heard just because we're youth," says BYM member Marzz. "We felt that it was essential that we not only speak up, but build a platform where other youth feel comfortable and feel like they can say what they want and say what they need."

Marzz emphasized the importance of camaraderie and community within the movement. The group focuses not only on protests, but also on community events, like celebrating LGBTQ Pride month in June, school supply drives, and an end-of-summer skate session for skaters who are Black, Indigenous, and people of color.

"It's all about creating your community when it comes to protesting, because you may not get change next week, but at least you have your family behind you no matter what," Z explains. "If everything goes to shit one day, we will still be a family and we will still have each other."

The group aims to lead marches and protests once a week, highlighting their list of demands at the beginning of each march. The group's demands are constantly evolving, but are broadly sectioned into policing, health care, housing, and education reforms. Some BYM demands include defunding and demilitarizing the police to restructure the entire policing system, with the end goal of abolition; requiring diversity training by Black, Indigenous, and other people of color for every health care professional before they are allowed to work with any patient; creating a grant or funding program specifically for Black-owned businesses; and including one semester of Black history and one semester of Indigenous history within Portland Public Schools.

Other activists and organizers have developed a science of protesting.

Demetria Hester became a public figure in 2017 when she was assaulted by self-described neo-Nazi Jeremy Christian, who went on to kill two people on a Portland light rail train the next day. For the past three or four years, Hester says, she has been studying the way the police respond to protesters, as well as the most effective ways to bring protesters together. She now organizes for Moms United For Black Lives, a group of moms who support the protests with direct action, as well as mutual aid.

"We have a full game plan," Hester says about Moms. "Make sure that the White people that are on your side are really on your side, that's one."

Hester stresses the importance of White allies being able to follow leadership from Black people, specifically Black women. Beyond that, Hester says that as the moms work on organizing with other mutual aid groups or reaching out to local politicians to promote change at a policy level, they must be educating themselves about Black history and why Black Lives Matter is a needed movement.

"If they don't educate themselves, none of the protests are going to help [the Black community]," Hester says.

The Black Youth Movement and Moms United for Black Lives are just two of several groups organizing direct actions like protests and marches in Portland, not to mention all of the adjacent pop-ups and community events in support of the movement for Black lives.

Recognizing that it's hard to have a complete scope of all of the various actions happening each day, a collective of BIPOC and White allies joined together to organize PDX BLM Events, which is not formally affiliated with the national BLM network. The online calendar and Instagram account aggregates the day's events.

By compiling local event information in one place, the group aims to make it easier for people to participate in local actions by removing the time-consuming process of scouring various Instagram posts, Facebook events, and Tweets for the latest events. Within the first five days the calendar was published, the site had about 50,000 unique visitors, according to an emailed statement from PDX BLM Events.

"We see our calendar project as one part of a broader movement support infrastructure, which also includes organizations distributing food and safety equipment, medics on the frontlines, loved ones at home cooking meals for protesters, and trauma counselors," the group states, acknowledging the expansive protest community.

On August 20, that 84th night of protest, BYM's march made it to the police union building and back to the park without any police interactions, free to express their anger and joy through passionate speeches and exuberant dancing alike.

Meanwhile, across the city, another group of protesters were gathering for a demonstration outside of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement building, organized by a group called Safe PDX Protest.

This story was originally reported and written by Isabella Garcia for YES! Magazine. Isabella Garcia is the solutions reporter for YES! Media. She is based in Portland, Oregon. Follow her on Twitter @isabellaaliciaa.


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North Dakota's June 11 primary is inching closer and those running for legislative seats are trying to win over voters, including Native American candidates who are part of a movement energized by newly drawn political boundaries.

The organization North Dakota Native Vote said there are seven candidates with Indigenous roots seeking spots in the Legislature. Most are running in District 9, which was recently updated to reflect representation needs for two Native American tribes.

Natasha Gourd, a board member of North Dakota Native Vote, described them as a good mixture of candidates coming from both reservations in the area, with some running as Democrats and others as Republicans.

"We've seen an upturn in participation and just getting leadership development through Native candidates," Gourd observed.

The election wave comes after the state saw 10 Native candidates in legislative races two years ago. For her group, Gourd acknowledged the boost can be tricky because they cannot endorse everyone running. But she noted having greater assurances the areas will be represented by people from their community -- no matter if they have a different stance on certain issues -- is still a positive.

Gourd added trying to build on the momentum is also important for off-reservation districts.

"What they do at the state level, regardless of Native American people in North Dakota (being part of) federally recognized tribes, it does affect us," Gourd pointed out. "Most Natives in North Dakota do live off the reservation, so it does affect our populations."

Gourd stressed they need more Native voices at the state level speaking out about priorities within education, the housing crisis, energy issues and health care. She hopes the positive trends they're seeing inspire more civic participation among other racial and ethnic groups trying to get a seat at the policy table in North Dakota.

A new poll finds a near 20-year low in the number of voters who say they have a high interest in the 2024 election, with a majority saying they hold negative views of both President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump. A group of Arizona elections officials and experts recently gathered to discuss the growing discontent with the state's current electoral landscape.

Stephen Richer, Maricopa County Recorder, said that if politicians are what he calls "single-minded seekers of re-election," he contends the state should change the political incentive structure.

"And if those incentives will change, then maybe we will be talking about more things in the Arizona Voter's Agenda and less things that are currently right now incentivized by what I still believe to be a minority, but a very passionate, very loud, and a minority that is definitely committed to acting on those issues," he said.

Richer added it is important to remember that despite Independent and unaffiliated voters being able to participate in the July 30th statewide primary, they were excluded from the state's March Presidential Preference Election, and that has caught the eye of some in the state. The bipartisan group Make Elections Fair Arizona is pushing for open primaries, but proponents of closed primaries believe they're crucial to maintaining the integrity of party ideals.

Amanda Burke, executive vice president with the non-partisan, nonprofit organization Center for the Future of Arizona, said more than half of unaffiliated voters do not feel they have leaders or candidates running who speak to the issues and causes they care about. She contends that then translates to who decides to show up at the ballot box and vote, and encourages Arizonans to imagine a different primary system if they want different outcomes.

"Otherwise we are going to continue to have some more outcomes in terms of people who are incentivized to speak to a small percentage of their base on either side who are really not representative of the larger views," she explained.

The Grand Canyon State allows voter-initiated amendments to the state constitution, but the Arizona Require Partisan Primary Elections Amendment would add the state's current primary practice to the state constitution, prohibiting future changes without another constitutional amendment. Make Elections Fair Arizona is still collecting signatures to get its measure on the November ballot.


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Wisconsin women have made progress in closing gaps when it comes to being elected to public office.

But some voices worry the movement might slow down as candidates see increasing levels of threats and harassment.

The Brennan Center for Justice recently issued findings that detail the threatening behavior those in the political arena are experiencing now.

Women were three to four times as likely as men to experience abuse targeting their gender.

Erin Vilardi, CEO and founder of the advocacy and assistance group Vote Run Lead, said this creates more unfairness in areas such as resource planning for a campaign.

"We see women candidates and incumbents right now having to pay for security," said Vilardi, "having to put in their budgets, in their campaign funds, in their line-items for their campaigns a security detail."

And Vilardi said because of the worsening climate, the threats are extending to almost all other candidates, including conservative white men.

She and other researchers called on party leaders to strongly condemn political violence. They also recommend that each state implement stronger protection for officeholders.

Vilardi said it's not just women candidates and incumbents having to deal with this behavior. Women working as top aides and political journalists are subject to more hateful rhetoric these days.

"This is something that permeates women in politics," said Vilardi, "not just for the folks that are stepping up to lead but for the ecosystem of women around them."

And if more women decide not to run or seek re-election as a result, Vilardi said this means there will be fewer opportunities for gender equality in leadership positions in state legislatures and Congress.

She urged constituents to send messages of support to women officeholders as they weigh these challenges and their political futures.

Support for this reporting was provided by the Carnegie Corporation of New York.



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