The Institution is Not Your Friend

The Catlin Gabel School, bastion of progressive ideals for generations of Portland’s liberal elite.

Editor’s Note: This is being written in the immediate aftermath of an explosive report detailing decades worth of sexual abuse by faculty and staff at my alma mater.

I was born into a large extended family. My father was the eldest of eight siblings, my mother the oldest of four, and I was the youngest of four. My parents and their siblings made a gradual migration during the late 70s and early 80s from New York City into the Pacific Northwest (Seattle first, then eventually Portland). Not only were we black folks of Caribbean heritage in an overwhelmingly white area, but we were also proudly and overtly Christian, trying to settle in an area more culturally known for its rugged individualism and anti-establishment aesthetic. For this reason, some of the recurring themes in my family history mirror that of immigrant families. Ours is a story of culture shock, adaptation, and eventually, gradual integration into local society.

Because of this dynamic, I grew up receiving a lot of unspoken messages about how to navigate relationships with the myriad of people with whom I would regularly come into contact. I don’t entirely blame my parents, aunties, uncles, older cousins and other caregivers for…