Tainted water in the city of rain

The thing I can’t get over is that they knew. I’d been drinking lead every day for 10 years, including while I was pregnant, and they said nothing

My English teacher voiced her outrage quietly. We were less than a month shy of graduation when the news broke, and neither I nor my classmates knew how to react. We Portlanders have a special pride for our drinking water, so when it came to light that 99% of the city’s public schools had been dispensing dangerously high levels of lead –and covering it up– it felt both shocking and personal.

Portland Oregon is commonly lauded as a leftist, eco-friendly paradise: a hub of activism and forward thinking with among the best park systems and watersheds in the nation. Less often discussed is the city’s centuries-long legacy of racial violence and discrimination, leading to its status today as the Whitest major city in America. Furthermore, the recent tech boom and influx of wealthy Californians have grown the city’s population by around 17% in the past decade, compounding existing issues of gentrification, segregation, and homelessness as Portland approaches its sixth consecutive year under a housing state of emergency.

While the overwhelming majority of Portland’s public school students (of whom 43% are considered a racial minority, and 38% qualify for free/reduced price lunch) endured years of unsafe drinking water, not one of the city’s 140-some private schools (with a minority composition of just 26%, and annual tuition averaging around $10,000) shared the experience. Even within the more diverse Portland Public Schools, BIPOC students have historically faced obstacles to their academic success, as showcased by a mere 19% of Black third graders passing the state standards compared to 68% of their white peers.

I love Portland, but it's far from perfect. Looking back, the lead crisis has given me a new perspective on my city and its relationship to the people who call it home. It's given me an opportunity to reflect upon what occurred in 2016, as well as the history of intersecting dysfunctional systems that enabled this tragedy to take place. In other words, I now notice things about Portland, its residents, and myself that I never had before. Our identities help define us, but can also blind us to challenges we don't face, and influence the questions we ask.

I was extremely lucky to have support and guidance from professors throughout my environmental justice journey. It is my hope that while exploring this StoryMap, you can also have the opportunity to see our cities –and ourselves– with new eyes. After all, if we truly love where we live, what better way to show that love than by taking this first step in fighting for social and environmental justice. Thank you for joining me.

Use these maps of Census data to examine the spatial distribution and demographic context of the 2016 Portland Public School (PPS) lead readings.

Rivers and waterways are defining characteristics of Portland, and are heavily used for drinking, recreation, and fishing. However, the lead crisis of 2016 was by no means the first time these water sources were contaminated.

What does it mean when a city that's built an identity upon environmental and social justice is itself perpetuating social-ecological harm?

This contrast between Portland's external image and internal reality can make it difficult to acknowledge and address critical issues. However, by reflecting on these questions, we can approach intersectional harms with nuance and clarity. After exploring this StoryMap, has your perspective changed? How might we build a just, equitable, and sustainable urban future?