This is a personal belief. I don’t expect everyone to share it, and I’m not here to declare moral superiority. But I do think it’s worth saying out loud: if you want people to respect your ideas, your views, your protest—start by showing them a way of life they admire.
Before we pass judgment on others, we should look at what we've built ourselves. What have we created? What have we sustained? What do our communities look like, and what values are we putting into practice—not just in speeches and signs, but in everyday choices?
Let’s talk about Portland.
Back in 2016, this city was one of America’s shining lights. We were the envy of urban planners, foodies, environmentalists, and artists alike. Our restaurants were written up in the New York Times. Our creative economy was booming. Our streets were full of people who believed in community, self-expression, and making things better. Yes, we protested—but when we did, the nation listened. Because we had credibility. We were living a version of the American experiment that was working.
That credibility is gone now.
It’s 2025, and we’re no longer thriving. I don’t say that with resentment—I say it with sadness, and a sense of responsibility. The last five years have not been kind to Portland. Not because of a single moment, but because of a thousand compounding choices. We’ve watched good intentions spiral into bad policies. We’ve watched institutions buckle under the weight of dysfunction and disconnection. And the worst part? We did a lot of this to ourselves.
This city is still filled with good people. Creative people. Kind people. But the city itself? It’s suffering. And still, we protest. We gather, we chant, we demand change—from America, from others, from systems and leaders we don’t trust. But fewer and fewer people are listening. Not because we’ve lost the right to speak. But because we’ve lost the status that gave our voice weight.
When the house you built is on fire, it’s hard to convince others you know how to design theirs.
I’m not saying we should stop caring. I’m not saying we should stop speaking out. But at some point, we have to reckon with the question: why would anyone follow our lead right now?
We need to stop shouting and start building. We need to rebuild our house before critiquing everyone else’s. We need to make Portland something to be admired again.
How do we do that?
We start with the economy. A city’s strength isn’t just in its values—it’s in how those values show up in real life. We need vibrant small businesses again. Full restaurants. Active office buildings. Sidewalks that feel alive. Creative scenes that don’t just survive on nostalgia, but create what’s next.
To get there, we have to engage the world. Stop retreating. Stop isolating. Stop writing off the rest of the country as the problem and start asking how we can rejoin the conversation—not as critics, but as contributors.
And the first step in doing that is simple: show up.
Not symbolically. Not digitally. Physically. In the room. At the café. At the local school, the local shop, the local event. Showing up is the clearest form of investment. It says: I believe in this place enough to give it my time, my presence, my energy. And that kind of engagement is contagious. It brings a city back to life.
Showing up is also about sacrifice. About inconveniencing yourself. About walking the few extra blocks, paying a little more at the small business, choosing community over convenience. It’s about helping the baristas and lunch counters and boutique shops that depend on foot traffic from people who give a damn about the local economy.
It’s about saying: I’m not just frustrated—I’m committed.
Because here’s the truth: protest alone doesn’t rebuild a city. Criticism alone doesn’t create prosperity. To make Portland something people admire again, we need to earn it.
Let’s be honest: after the amount of failure we’ve had here—failures we voted for, supported, or stayed silent about—it’s no surprise that the rest of the country has tuned us out. They’re not listening. Not because they’re wrong, but because we haven’t given them a reason to listen.
That can change. But not with another march. Not with another rally. With action. With work. With daily, tangible choices that reflect the community we say we want.
So here’s my challenge to my fellow Portlanders: if you want to be heard again, build something worth admiring. Make Portland a place where people point and say, look at that city… they figured it out.
That’s how we get our voice back.
Not by yelling louder. But by building better.
If this episode challenged your thinking, I’d love for you to follow or subscribe on Substack, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. I post every weekday, and each episode is built to help you reflect, recalibrate, and re-engage with real life.
This one’s a call to my fellow Portlanders—but it’s also a message for anyone living in a place that’s lost its luster. If you want to be heard again, build something worth admiring. Show up. Reinvest. Rebuild. And let your actions speak louder than your outrage.
Until next time—be present, be bold, and if you love a place, help it rise.
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