Black Lives Matter
As I reflect on this moment, I want to add my voice. Black lives matter. The killing of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor are unconscionably awful. These events are not simply the result of individual actions by bad people; they are born out of a system of structural racism that infects our society. If we want progress — if we want to be part of a solution that moves us toward a system that is truly inclusive, equitable and empowers all people — then we must talk about race and take action to dismantle racism.
And we White people have to look at ourselves.
A place for me to start is to reflect on my own history. In the interest of naming my privilege, I think it is important to dig into some of the reasons that I am where I am today, uncomfortable as it might be.
I am constantly telling the story of how my family came to own the Zena Forest and the series of financial miracles in the summer of 2008 that led to the eventual purchase of this forest that my family had stewarded for a generation. However, the way I usually tell this story ignores some important elements of my family's past that really need to be told. We were able to purchase this forest primarily with money inherited from my grandparents after they passed away. My grandparents, like so many other white folks of their generation, came home from World War II and bought a farm. Without the barriers of redlining and financial discrimination, my grandfather was able to invest and build wealth. To the point where he was able to pass on enough wealth to his daughter so that a generation later, she could buy a forest.
But I really need to step back a couple more generations. My great-great-grandfather arrived in Oregon in 1842 as a young white man. He had some means, but more importantly, he was in the right place at the right time to exploit the vast land and natural resources that were practically free for the taking to folks like him. The native americans had been removed from the landscape, and people of color were forbidden from living here in this white supremacist state. He acquired much of the land in and around Portland. He built a sawmill, and invested widely. He left a very sound financial legacy to his children and grandchildren.
When I was a child, my grandmother would tell me these stories with an air of family pride. Now I struggle with how to tell these stories to my children. My house, the family property, and the family business are all here because of generations of systemic racism. The downright subjugation and theft from the native peoples who called this place home. The unequal playing field of 20th century capitalism, and the economic slavery of early 21st century financial machinations. But the benefits of my legacy are not strictly financial. My legacy is a calling card, the key to access everywhere I turn.
The exercise of writing this has shown me that I have my family narrative all wrong. Luck and wise investments are not the drivers of my family legacy. I will strive to no longer tell the stories of my pioneering ancestors and their clever business dealings. Going forward, I will work to tell the full story, including the subjugation, exploitation and theft from people of color that has contributed to my station in life. But this alone is not enough. Telling this story is only the first step in righting these wrongs. I don't yet know what the next step is for us, but I know there is one, and over the coming weeks and months, we as a family and a business are going to be actively seeking out ways that we can work to right these wrongs.