There are few images more gut‑wrenching than a mother putting her child to bed in the backseat of a car. That’s not a political failure—it’s a moral one. And it’s happening right now, all across Oregon.
We lead the nation in one of the worst categories imaginable: the rate of unsheltered children. Oregon ranks 50th out of 50 states for unsheltered children—nearly 20 kids per 10,000 sleeping without shelter. That’s almost three times worse than any other state in America. These aren’t just numbers. They are infants being changed in gas–station bathrooms. Toddlers living on microwave noodles in motel rooms. Teenagers showing up to school hungry, ashamed, and invisible.
And it’s getting worse—not just in Portland, but everywhere. Across the state, we’re watching a wave of family homelessness surge through rural communities that were once affordable, tight‑knit, and stable. That illusion shattered in the years after COVID, when remote workers and wealthier retirees poured into smaller towns, chasing lifestyle and livability. In places like Bend, Hood River, Sisters, and Joseph, home prices have doubled. Renters got displaced. New development focused on short‑term profits, not long‑term housing stock.
Wealth migration has gentrified the countryside. And it has left Oregon’s working families—many of whom have lived in these towns for generations—scrambling to survive in a market that no longer has room for them.
We need to talk about that.
This isn’t just a Portland problem. It’s not a “drug” problem or a “policy” problem in the simplistic terms the media likes to use. It’s a structural failure of housing supply, affordability, and social safety nets—compounded by a stunning lack of urgency.
We’ve spent the last decade arguing about tents on sidewalks while a quieter, more devastating crisis has unfolded in church parking lots and Walmart back corners: families falling into homelessness at record pace, often with no history of substance abuse or mental illness—just bad luck, rising costs, and no margin for error.
Let’s get something straight: most families don’t go homeless overnight. It’s a slow unraveling. A missed rent check. A job lost. A car breaking down. A landlord who sells the house. And then: couch surfing, doubling up, emergency shelters—until even those run out. Then the car. Then the street.
Once a family crosses that line, the odds of recovery shrink fast.
So what do we do?
First, we tell the truth. This is not just about drugs, crime, or personal failure. It’s about a system that punishes poverty and allows generational wealth to shape the housing market with no accountability. You cannot fix what you’re unwilling to name.
Second, we stop building excuses and start building housing. That means transitional housing, workforce housing, and permanent supportive housing in every part of the state—not just tucked away in urban zones that already carry the burden. Rural Oregon needs its share of resources, zoning reform, and support for nonprofit developers. No more “not in my backyard.” This is in all our backyards.
Third, we make family homelessness a red‑line issue. Every mayor, every county chair, every legislator should be judged on one thing: are the numbers going up or down? No spin. No cherry‑picking. Just results.
And finally—we must start acting like we care.
It should be unthinkable for a child to sleep outside in this state. But we’ve allowed ourselves to become numb, distracted, or resigned. That has to end. Because when we lose sight of our most basic responsibilities—to protect, to shelter, to care—we lose the very soul of our community.
Oregon is not a failed state. But we are failing families. We are dead last—50 of 50 states—when it comes to unsheltered children. Until we change that, we can’t honestly call this the best place to live—not for everyone.
If this message hit home for you—if you believe Oregon can and must do better—please share this episode. Forward it to a friend. Talk about it at dinner. Bring it up at your next community meeting.
Because change doesn’t start in the legislature. It starts in living rooms, in conversations, in the collective refusal to accept the unacceptable.
I publish new episodes every weekday. You can find me on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and Spotify.
Until next time—stay grounded, stay hopeful, and don’t look away. The future is watching.
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