Two years ago, Dianne Causey’s landlord died and her rental house in Portland, Oregon, went up for sale. She was forced to move from the city’s historically black neighborhood where she’d lived since 1978, into an apartment further east, nearly an hour away by public transit. “The apartment was way out in the boondocks. I was miserable,” she said.
But in December, Causey, 66, was able to return to north Portland, when she bought her first home through the Portland housing bureau’s preference policy, or “Right to Return” as it’s been called, the first of its kind in the US.
The program gives down payment assistance to first-time homeowners who were displaced, or at risk of displacement, from the city’s north and north-east neighborhoods because of urban renewal; it falls under a city plan that delegates how $20m will be spent on affordable housing, in an effort to atone for the sins of gentrification.
Last fall, the housing bureau received some 1,100 applications for the policy. With enough funds to subsidize 65 households, the bureau has so far succeeded in moving five families, including Causey, into their new homes. Forty-eight applications are in the pipeline to becoming mortgage-ready. And in February, under the preference policy, hundreds applied for rent-subsidized apartments in two buildings in north-east Portland, slated to open this year.
“I love it, because it’s mine,” said Causey, who purchased her house with her son with support from the African American Alliance of Homeownership. “I feel like I’ve come back home.”
In order to qualify for “preference”, applicants score points through their previous or current address. The greater the urban renewal activity in your area, the higher the points. Top priority is given to those whose property was snatched by the city through eminent domain. Applicants can add additional points if they can prove that their parent, guardian or grandparent lived in these affected neighborhoods.
It’s the ancestral clause that makes Portland’s Right to Return groundbreaking. Other policies that have tried to combat gentrification, include San Francisco’s “anti-displacement” policy back in 2016, which was supported by the US Department of Housing and Urban Development, and gave first dibs on affordable housing units in the city’s Mission district to those heavily affected by gentrification.
Sue Popkin, a senior fellow at the Urban Institute in Washington, says policies like these are an attempt to retain, or bring back, communities of color that the city once marginalized. “There’s a lot of concern about what’s happening to [Portland] in a way that is similar to San Francisco,” said Popkin. “And a grave concern is losing the historic minority populations altogether.”
In Portland, redlining and other discriminatory housing policies restricted African Americans to the Albina district, in north-east Portland, such that by 1960, 80% of the city’s black community called the area home. Yet the years to follow would herald a storm of urban renewal projects, including a new highway and a hospital expansion, which razed the homes of nearly 200 families, predominantly black.
By the 2000s, both public and private-driven investment made the north and north-east regions of Portland desirable to people with means. White folks moved in, gentrification spread, and long-term residents – namely low-income and communities of color – moved out, according to Portland Community Reinvestment Initiatives (PCRI), a low-income housing program. Between 2000 and 2010, about 10,000 African Americans were displaced in north-east Portland, sinking its black population to 15% of the neighborhood. Citywide, only 6% of Portland’s population is black, based on census numbers.
“There’s no doubt that there was a significant number of communities of color who have historically lived in that area and who have been impacted by city actions over time,” said Martha Calhoon, the communications director of the Portland housing bureau. Over time, she added, those neighborhoods were some of the most diverse – meaning white, black, Latino and Asian households would all score high points of preference.
But not everyone is singing the policy’s praises. The application doesn’t include a box to identify race, a decision critics are calling cowardly.
“The discrimination did not happen in a race-neutral way,” said Jo Ann Hardesty, the president of the NAACP’s Portland branch. “So if you’re going to correct it, I don’t understand how you’d develop a policy that isn’t race-specific.”
“I’d like to see them pay reparations to the families who had suffered generations because of corrupt policy,” she said. “If you really are committed to undoing the damage, that’s the direct approach,” adding that affordable housing means little in an unaffordable neighborhood.
Ultimately, she said, the policy is ineffective.
“We recognize it doesn’t make up for what was lost,” said Calhoon, adding that no one funding policy is going to rectify the past. Nevertheless, she said, “it’s a starting point for those who want to come back, and an opportunity for those to remain in their neighborhood.”
That’s why the bureau said it’s trying to be proactive in its outreach and marketing about who this policy is for.
Also, offering housing assistance based on race would violate the federal Fair Housing Act, the city said, which Popkin confirmed. “The city’s hope, my guess, is that they’ll accomplish the same thing without putting themselves in lawsuit territory,” she said, calling the policy “very Portland”.
“It’s progressive and thoughtful. It’s very interesting to see what happens. First they’re assuming people want to come back and they’re going to have to appeal to them.”
The policy hasn’t won over Alicia Byrd, a Portland librarian who co-founded the Emanuel Displaced Persons Association 2, descendants of Portland’s displacement projects.
They recently conducted an online survey and specifically asked members of the black community for their input.
“Overwhelmingly, in terms of restitution, people did not feel that the preference policy is adequate atonement. It’s insulting for several reasons,” she said, adding: “In terms of affordable housing, it’s a trick bag. You must report your gross income, you can’t attend school full-time and you can’t save any significant money. My question is, what’s the end goal? It isn’t about upward mobility, they’re glorified projects.”
Byrd’s grandmother lost her house through the hospital expansion. Because of this, she might be eligible for the policy, but has no interest in applying.
In fact, she never expected to stay in the city as long as she has.
“When the opportunity presents itself, I plan on moving out of Portland,” she said.
