Hey Portland! A column by Councilor Avalos

You're going to be hearing this a lot right now.

From elected officials, from institutional leaders, from people in positions of power.

"Be peaceful."
"Don't escalate."
"Let's keep things calm."

And I want to say this clearly, as someone who believes deeply in nonviolence and de-escalation: I understand the instinct behind that message. People want to prevent harm. They want to keep communities safe. They want things to not spiral into further violence.

But I also think we are doing people a disservice when "be peaceful" is the only guidance we offer in a moment of real fear, anger, and injustice.

Because peace is not the same thing as strategy.

Peace is a tactic; strategy is a framework.

And right now, what people are actually asking for, whether they say it this way or not, is not permission to be calm. They are asking:

What do we do with all of this energy?
Where do we put our anger, our fear, our urgency?
How do we act in ways that actually matter?

Telling people to simply "be peaceful" without offering a path forward can feel less like leadership and more like management. It can feel condescending, especially to communities who have been trying to live peacefully for a long time and keep having to deal with violence, instability, and harm instigated by others.

The truth is: most people I know want peace more than anything. They want safety. They want stability. They want to live without going from constant crisis to constant crisis.

What is happening to them is the opposite of peace.

So, asking people to respond to injustice as if they are the ones causing chaos is an unfair frame. It puts the burden on the people experiencing harm, instead of on the systems producing it.

What we should be talking about instead is how to be strategic.

Strategy asks different questions than tone policing does.

Not just:
Was this polite?
Did this look good?
Did this make anyone uncomfortable?

But:
Did this build power?
Did this protect people?
Did this change who has access to resources?
Did this move us closer to real outcomes?

That is a very different lens.

Being strategic does not mean abandoning values. It does not mean encouraging harm, chaos, or cruelty.

It means recognizing that our actions should be guided by what works, not just by what feels virtuous.

Sometimes the strategic move is peaceful.
Sometimes it is loud.
Sometimes it is slow and boring and behind the scenes.
And OFTEN it is disruptive (what you do think protest is?).

The point is that no single tactic is morally superior in every moment. The only real question is whether it builds collective power for the people who need it most.

And here is where I want to be very honest about my role in all of this.

As a City Councilor, I am in a position that a lot of people are not. I have access to institutions. I see how decisions actually get made and have the opportunity to participate in some cases. I watch where power lives in practice, not just in theory.

So, I do not think my job, or any elected official's job, is to simply tell people to calm down.

I think our job is to offer tangible guidance.

To say: if you want to be strategic, here is what that actually looks like locally.

Because strategy is not abstract. It is municipal. It is neighborhood-level. It is about how power moves through a city day to day.

Local power is built through:

• Organized communities, not isolated individuals.
• Coalitions that last longer than a single crisis.
• People learning how the system works and using that knowledge together.
• Neighbors knowing each other.
• Tenants organizing their buildings.
• Workers forming unions.
• Young people learning leadership early.
• Residents having real pathways into decision-making, not just comment sections.

This is why I am spending this year launching new ways for people to actually build power in Portland, not just express frustration.

Later this year, my office will be introducing the Shared Power Collective, a community-based leadership and organizing program designed to bring together residents from across the city to learn how local government works, build relationships with each other, and develop real skills for civic action and collective problem-solving.

We are also launching a Youth Leadership Academy, which will create a pathway for young people to learn how city government functions, how decisions are made, and how to advocate effectively for their communities. The goal is not just education, but confidence, connection, and long-term civic leadership.

These are not symbolic programs. They are strategic investments.

They are about turning energy into capacity.
Turning anger into organization.
Turning participation into influence.

And that, to me, is what responsible leadership looks like in a tense moment.

Not telling people to be quieter.
Not telling people to be nicer.
Not telling people to take the high road without a map.

But saying: your feelings are justified. Your urgency is valid. And here are real ways to channel it into something that actually changes the conditions you are living under.

So yes, be peaceful when peace helps us get there.

Peace is not a neutral state of being. Or in the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. it's "not merely the absence of tension, it is the presence of justice."

So, let's stop treating peace as the destination.

The destination is justice. The destination is safety. The destination is material change in people's lives.

It is about being strategic.
It is about building local power.
And it is about doing it together, on purpose, for the long haul.

Politics the Right Way
By Councilor Candace Avalos

Hey Portland,

As I've been getting ready to return to City Hall for the first week of 2026, I've been reflecting on what this past year taught me, not just about policy or process, but about power. Because even if we've changed our form of government, we haven't changed the players in our city.

When I stepped into this role, I genuinely tried to do politics "the right way."

I followed the unspoken rules. I showed up prepared, collaborative, and reasonable. I assumed that if I acted in good faith, the systems around us — political, media, institutional — would do the same. I believed that if I focused on the work, the work would speak for itself.

That belief didn't survive the year.

Near the end of 2025, I read something in the news, and it finally clicked for me. The story itself wasn't shocking; it wasn't even new information. But it did clarify what I've experienced over my first year in City Hall. It helped me see, with fresh eyes, the ecosystem we're actually operating in — one that is not neutral, not especially curious, and not designed to center the voices of working people or the councilors who represent them.

That realization wasn't about one article, one headline, or one moment. It was about a pattern.

Who gets the benefit of the doubt.

Whose intentions are presumed reasonable.

Who is framed as "serious," "steady," or "constructive."

And who is treated as disruptive simply for naming what their constituents live every day.

During his inaugural address, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani said something that resonated with my time in politics: "For too long, those fluent in the good grammar of civility have deployed decorum to mask agendas of cruelty."

When we're asked to give each other more grace, what are we really asking for? Are we giving each other space to make mistakes so that we build stronger relationships and get work done for our constituents, or are we simply playing nice to keep up appearances? Because in practice, "giving each other grace" has looked more like the latter to me.

Let me be clear: critique is not hostility. Accountability is not incivility. And speaking plainly about power is not the same thing as tearing others down.

What is exhausting is being constantly framed as unreasonable, fringe, or unserious for expressing the voices of people who have historically been locked out of City Hall. Meanwhile, those with far more access, money, and institutional protection are insulated from the same scrutiny.

Here's what often gets lost in those narratives of "Council needs more adults in the room."

My major policies passed with 96% of my colleagues voting in favor, including the social housing study resolution (for those of you constantly in my mentions talking about housing production).

I meet regularly with East Portlanders who challenge me, sometimes forcefully. I listen. I don't dismiss them. I don't assume bad intent. And more often than not, they leave knowing they were heard, even when we don't agree.

One constituent came into an appointment so angry about something I'd said that she yelled at me for ten straight minutes. I listened. When she finally paused, I explained what I actually believe and why. She hugged me at the end.

That is the work.

Not the "he-said-she-said," horserace-style coverage and cynical insider commentary that often makes the front page. Governing is slow, human, and deeply relational. And it rarely fits into the tidy narratives that media institutions prefer to tell.

Another lesson from this year was harder to accept: no amount of politeness will protect you if you are challenging entrenched power.

I was told repeatedly  to be quieter. To not rock the boat. To be more measured. To consider how I was being perceived.

But whether I was loud or quiet, careful or direct, accommodating or firm, the outcome was often the same because at the end of the day I can't change who I am and I won't change who I speak up for. The criticisms just came after different parts of my work.

That's when I stopped internalizing it.

Because when rules are selectively enforced — and never upward — they aren't about fairness. They're about control.

I want to be honest with you, Portland: our political and media institutions did not go away when we passed charter reform. They've helped shape the conditions we're now navigating. They reward familiarity over change. They elevate simplistic over comprehensive. And too often, they flatten the voices of communities pushing for real change into two-dimensional caricatures.

I'm grateful for individuals within these systems who have engaged in good faith with my work. That matters. But institutions are not people, and past goodwill does not excuse present harm.

So, as I step into 2026, I'm showing up differently.

I'm no longer carrying the burden of making sure other people are comfortable. I'm not measuring my leadership by the approval of those who benefit most from the status quo. And I'm not pretending that silence is a virtue when it only serves those already in power.

I came to City Hall to help build collective power, not advance my personal career. I learned from my days in grassroots movements that collective power is built with community and through organizing. It's built by each of us telling our own stories.

So, expect to hear more from me this year.

You'll see clearer lines drawn between who this government has and hasn't worked for. You'll see deeper investment in direct communication with constituents, because the people closest to the pain are also closest to the truth.

And if that makes some people uncomfortable or irritated, I'm okay with that.

Portland doesn't need more "Portland nice." We don't need leaders who govern from the fear of being disliked.

That doesn't mean being performative or provocative for its own sake. I'm interested in being effective. And effectiveness requires clarity: about who you serve, what you believe, and when it's time to stop asking permission.

This past year changed how I understand power and how I intend to use my voice going forward.

So in 2026, you'll see me doing what I've always done, just with fewer illusions about changing the minds of those who never have and never will respect me or the East Portland communities I represent. I'll be listening closely to constituents, pushing policy that reflects their needs, and speaking plainly about the forces that shape our city — even when that makes things uncomfortable.

If that's doing politics the wrong way, maybe it's time to rethink what the right way looks like.

We Need to Slow the Inflow
By Councilor Candace Avalos, feat. Councilor Dunphy and Councilor Smith

We need to slow the inflow into homelessness. As I said at a rally organized by the Welcome Home Coalition, the crisis on the street starts long before someone loses their home. When I'm out at the doors in East Portland, I hear all the time how our neighbors are struggling. They don't know how they're going to pay all their bills this month because costs keep going up on everything. They're skipping meals because they need to make rent. Earlier this year, my staff even accompanied a young father we met at the doors to his eviction hearing.

My staff told me that, based on what they saw, every tenant at eviction court that day was either a person of color, did not speak English as a first language, or visibly disabled. None of the tenants had representation. The judge was explaining their rights and process to the tenants, and most were too intimidated to ask questions.

I wanted to share this story because it speaks to a larger truth in our City: too many Portlanders are losing their homes, and people are becoming homeless faster than we can house them.

View full size image of Inflow v Outflow graph

At a recent joint work session with the County, we heard that, over the last 18 months, we're seeing an average inflow of 1,400 people per month - 1,000 who have never been in our homeless system before. We're only moving 1,100 people out of homelessness per month on average. That tells me that our current approach isn't doing enough to prevent homelessness in the first place.

Earlier this month I introduced a resolution with my East Portland colleagues Councilor Dunphy and Councilor Smith to fund services and programs that keep people housed, using the $21 million in unspent dollars that were found in the Rental Services Office (RSO) during an internal review. After speaking with Portland Housing Bureau staff, advocates, providers, and other stakeholders in the housing and homeless service space to hear their recommendations, we determined that the funding would be best spent directly helping renters. Our resolution puts $9 million toward to rent assistance, and $9 million toward emergency housing vouchers.

I want to be clear: this is not a shelters vs rent assistance debate. This is not a housing production vs eviction prevention debate. This is a conversation about where the gaps are in our homeless service and housing continuum, and where our dollars can make the most difference RIGHT NOW.

Because when we look at the state level, we're seeing cuts being made to eviction prevention services – by 74% in the latest budget. We're seeing the federal government move grant funding away from permanent housing and towards temporary shelters. The need in our city is not going away, but the dollars are.  If we don't act urgently to shift our investments, we are going to lose lifesaving programs and supports.

As Hygiene4All Executive Director Sandra said, "we are facing a tsunami of evictions in the next year. If elected officials don't start listening and planning with those in the trenches, if we don't start rowing together, our beloved community, our beloved Portland, will go down."

This is personal for me because I know what it's like not to know if you'll be able to keep your home. When I was growing up, my family was one bill away from losing our home. We rented out every room in our house to stay afloat – even our dining room, after we added doors. My mom, my brothers, and I crowded into a single bedroom — and to make extra money on the side we fed our 13 renters every night. Guess who had start the cooking before Mom got home? It was 12-year-old Candace.

Unless you've faced losing your home, you don't understand it. One advocate with lived experience explained that "when you are faced with a housing eviction or eviction notice, you freeze. It's a horrific experience hustling on the street."

I learned young what housing instability does to a family, how the stress affects every part of your life. That doesn't go away easily.

This unexpected $21 million gives us the ability to catch people before they fall into homelessness and prevent unnecessary trauma. The resolution is the first step in the process of getting these dollars out the door and slowing the inflow into homelessness.

We can't afford to let this opportunity slip away.

Our resolution passed out of the Homelessness and Housing Committee on Dec 9^th and will be coming to full council in January 2026. I'm grateful to all the Portlanders who have already testified in support, and I hope you'll consider offering your voice when our resolution comes for a vote.

I've included some comments from my fellow resolution sponsors and D1 Councilors, Councilor Dunphy and Councilor Smith, to offer their perspective about why this resolution and why now. There's a reason why East Portland's representatives are standing united – it's because we know that our neighbors desperately need this help.

Councilor Dunphy:

"The close to $21 million in RSO funds is not enough to stop the hemorrhaging that is happening in our community, but it does create a unique opportunity for the city of Portland to help control some of the bleeding. This is an opportunity that will hopefully prevent people from falling into homelessness.

I keep coming back to the fact that we have spent hundreds of millions of dollars — pushing into billions — responding to our homelessness situation. We have amazing professionals working in all these different directions, and they're getting up to 1,100 people a month off the streets and into housing. And yet 1,400 people are falling into homelessness every month.

What an opportunity we have right now to prevent those scary conversations about what to do when the eviction notice arrives. We can prevent further economic displacement. I'm thankful to join Councilor Avalos and Councilor Smith in this effort. East Portland needs our help. We need extra assistance. Things are different east of I-205: we know the permanently affordable housing that we've been building for decades is functionally market rate housing in our district.

We know that the need is greater than we can possibly meet. But this is an excellent first step, and I'm enthusiastic to be a co-sponsor on this."

Councilor Smith:

"I strongly support the Slow the Inflow resolution I'm leading with Councilor Avalos and Councilor Dunphy. We believe that preventing homelessness is the most critical step we can take in the broader continuum of care.

As Councilor Dunphy often reminds us, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Month after month, more Portlanders fall into homelessness than we can house. If we only treat the symptoms, we will never solve the problem. Today, we have nearly $21 million in funds to allocate. For too long, we've relied on incentives from developers only to see the cost of living outpace wages by the time new housing is built.

Meanwhile, nearly 2000 affordable units sit vacant, while thousands of our neighbors sleep outside or cycle endlessly between shelters and day centers. That is totally unacceptable, Our resolution is designed to assist tenants living in small, family-owned rental properties with their rental payments. It allocates vital resources to the working and renting community of Portland. By supporting small landlords, they can manage their expenses without resorting to evictions.

This approach enables tenants to afford their rent, which in turn sustains local businesses. As a result, families can remain housed, stable and engaged within their own communities. We cannot wait for another budget cycle or another fiscal year. Portland needs relief now."

After the Fire
By Councilor Candace Avalos

Hey Portland,

Over the past few days, I've been trying to wrap my head around losing my car, having my home burned, and watching my neighbors go through the same nightmare. It's gutting. It's disorienting. Every time I try to describe it, words feel too small. I'm grateful to everyone who's reached out, checked in, or sent love. It means a lot to me, and I don't take the community I have for granted. I also want to thank the dedicated team at the Portland Fire Investigations Unit for their ongoing investigation into the cause of the fire.

We still don't know yet if the fire was targeted, or even if it was set on purpose. Investigators believe it started in a nearby storage shed and have said they don't think it was intentional, even as their investigation continues. They recently released a video asking the public for help identifying a man seen walking away from the fire, which is a reminder that this case is still open and many people, me included, still have so many unanswered questions. Whatever the cause, this didn't happen in a vacuum. In our current national context, it's hard not to connect this moment to everything happening around us — the threats, the division, the way public service sometimes puts a target on your back.

This also happened in a country where people are scared. Where SNAP cuts are coming, health care cuts are looming, and rent just keeps going up. The social safety net is stretched so thin that when people fall, they're too often left to pick themselves back up alone. It wasn't designed to catch them. I know what it feels like to face a setback, spending a lifetime working twice as hard just to get half as far, and this one cut deep.

But what hurts almost as much as the fire itself is the reminder that we survive not because the system works, but because we do. I've been surrounded by so much love and generosity from friends going above and beyond to care for me. I'm endlessly grateful. But it's also painful to know that so many others in my position wouldn't have the same support. The paperwork, the waiting, and the uncertainty are all a reminder of how close most of us are to losing everything we've built.

Even as I try to move forward, it's impossible to ignore what's happening beyond Portland. Across the country, public officials are being targeted simply for showing up and doing their jobs. In Minnesota, former House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband were assassinated, and state Senator John Hoffman and his wife were critically injured. In Pennsylvania, Governor Josh Shapiro and his family barely escaped when someone intentionally set fire to the governor's residence while they were sleeping inside.

And now Portland finds itself in that same atmosphere of rising hostility. Trump and his allies have singled out cities like ours, calling us "the enemy from within." Those words have consequences. They create fear, they dehumanize people, and they invite violence.

Just a few days before the fire, my office received an email that said, "hope the entire state burns and your house is the first one to go." You don't forget something like that. It stays with you, because it shows how quickly words can turn into threats, and threats can turn into harm. It's impossible not to feel the weight of it all.

But I refuse to let fear define this moment. Portlanders have never been people who back down or turn away from one another. We take care of each other because our systems don't. We keep feeding people, showing up, and rebuilding, even when it feels like everything around us is burning.

I don't know what comes next, but I know I'm not alone. We can't always control what happens to us, but we can control how we show up for one another.

Because at the end of the day, we have us.

In this Moment, We Choose Us
By Councilor Candace Avalos

View full size image of Councilor Avalos speaks at a rally

Portland, I love y'all. I'm still buzzing. We passed our joint Protect Portland Initiative resolution. Twelve votes. Doce. And we stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Councilor Kanal to codify Sanctuary City protections — also twelve votes, as an emergency, so they would go into effect immediately. That didn't happen by accident; it happened because we organized, we held the line, and we used the tools of municipal government with discipline and corazón.

It's important that we have these strengthened protections and new tools at the City because we are entering an inflection point. As the Trump administration threatens to send in the National Guard to our city and abuse the president's power to score political points, I've been reflecting on my responsibility as an elected leader, the City Council's role in protecting Portlanders, and how we can best respond to this current crisis. I want to be honest: These past few weeks have not been easy. It has felt overwhelming to respond to everything this administration is throwing at us.

At the same time, we should recognize that we're winning so far. The Trump administration tried to send in the Oregon, California, and Texas National Guard and he got blocked by a federal judge who found his justifications to be "untethered from the facts." The reality on the ground doesn't even come close to what Trump and his cronies are claiming. And apologies for the language, but Americans are seeing through his bullsh*t. Stephen Miller is going on the national news saying that ICE officers are engaged in hand-to-hand combat with "antifa" every night, but the actual videos from protests at the ICE facility show Portlanders in chicken and frog wizard costumes. Portlanders are speaking out and using their First Amendment rights peacefully, with our city's signature sense of humor and creativity.

In this moment of great uncertainty, we choose us. When national politics feels ineffective and incremental, let's focus on what we can do in our own backyard. Before the council meeting I said at the rally that "the answer to federal threats is municipalism," and I meant it. Municipalism isn't a catchphrase. It's a practice: build local power, translate values into enforceable code, and protect our people with policy that's actually binding. Portlanders didn't just chant slogans—we wrote legislation, voted on it, and made it real law the same day. That's municipalism.

And I meant it when I said this is the start of a nationwide movement. The Trump administration has spent this past year waging a legal and political campaign against so-called "sanctuary" jurisdictions: they've issued lawsuits, funding threats, and bombastic media statements. Cities and local leaders across the country all understand that they need to use their local power to take the Trump administration's challenges head-on. That looks like litigation: for example, earlier this year we joined a multi-jurisdiction lawsuit challenging funding retaliation tied to sanctuary policies and successfully got a federal judge to stop the funding freeze while the lawsuit is underway. In Chicago, a federal judge ordered this administration to stop using tear gas, pepper spray and other weapons against journalists and peaceful protesters after local press and advocates filed suit.

We also have legislative and executive powers, as City Council demonstrated in our last council meeting. Our Protect Portland Initiative resolution, inspired by Mayor Brandon Johnson's Protecting Chicago Initiative executive order, standardized a simple premise: safety is not a pretext for profiling, and public services aren't immigration checkpoints. We set procedures, not vibes. We aligned frontline practice with legal authority. And we solidified rapid-response systems.

The ordinance led by Councilor Kanal moved sentiment to statute, codifying Sanctuary City protections and instructing our bureaus how to act when federal pressure shows up at the door. Portland has had a Sanctuary resolution on the books since 2017. A resolution is a statement; law is a shield. That's the difference between "we care" and "we enforce."

There's a lot more future work to be done and these new policies will only be as good as how well we implement them. But together, the ordinance and resolution give us a foundation and playbook to safeguard Portlanders against federal overreach and militarization. And they serve as examples to other jurisdictions about what's possible – not just in Oregon, but in every city in America.

Municipalism says: we don't wait for permission to protect our people. We build durable policy at home — and when the feds overreach, we answer with law, coordination, and community power. That's how we turned the chant of "not in our city" into two unanimous votes. That's how we face the next wave from this fascist administration.

That's how we give the city and our country a way forward. Vamos.

Housing as a Right, not a Profit Maker
By Councilor Candace Avalos, feat. Councilor Dunphy and Councilor Green

View full size image of Sonnwendviertel neighborhood

What if our housing system was built around the idea that all people should have a safe, comfortable place to call home? That might sound radical or unrealistic to some, but it could be reality if we just look beyond our own borders. Housing as a right rather than a privilege would look a lot like what we saw in Vienna.

There's a difference between reading about Vienna's housing system and standing in the middle of a municipal housing complex — seeing the architecture, talking to residents, and observing how public space is integrated. In our country, public housing isn't seen as aspirational. For most Americans, public housing is the projects, a result of the long history of systemic racism embedded throughout our real estate markets and housing policy that created "vertical slums" for Black and brown people.

In Vienna, public-owned and managed housing isn't stigmatized or hidden away in the poorest neighborhoods. They treat housing as public infrastructure. Leaders have made deliberate choices for over 100 years to keep housing public, affordable, and high-quality — and they maintain it like a park, not something to offload to the private market.

Vienna has a 9-hour time difference from Portland. It would have been impossible to schedule meaningful discussions with their housing experts over Zoom. Being in Vienna allowed us to build direct relationships with policymakers, housing agency staff, tenant organizers, and nonprofit leaders. These are connections we can call on in the future for technical advice, peer-to-peer exchanges, and policy collaboration. And as we know all too well from the pandemic, Zoom can't replace the trust and nuance that comes from face-to-face conversations.

In person, we got to dig deeper into the work behind Vienna's housing system. We asked hard questions, got candid answers, and heard about the challenges and failures — not just the shiny success stories included in policy write-ups. We were also able to compare our challenges with theirs in real time and see how different governance choices shape outcomes. Knowing the full picture of how Vienna built their world-class housing system helps us design policies that are realistic and grounded in what's possible in Portland.

For example, Portland could start with land banking to help create permanent housing affordability. Vienna strategically bought land decades ago, giving it the power to keep rents low today. Land costs are one of the biggest affordability challenges, and when national economic headwinds are slowing development, we can purchase land now to build public control. Portland could also pull from Vienna's tenancy system that guarantees three protections together: price controls, eviction protection, and landlord maintenance obligations. These keep people in their homes and out of homelessness.

We have to be clear-eyed about our local context and understand we're working at a disadvantage because federal policy ratified private real estate discrimination into law. Public housing was concentrated in Black neighborhoods and other neighborhoods where marginalized communities lived, while single-family homes were subsidized in white neighborhoods. A chronic lack of investment and years of deferred maintenance led to the deterioration of public housing, making it easier for federal policymakers to justify moving away from public housing programs altogether.

Our country has effectively turned over the entire construction and management of affordable housing to the private market. Today, we're seeing the limits of that system as more people are losing their homes than are finding housing stability in Portland. The Low Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC), the main tool for cities to encourage affordable housing construction, is designed as a tax write-off to make the construction of affordable housing more attractive for investors. It also has built-in expiration dates for affordability, unlike in Vienna where housing is permanently affordable.

Residents at Tigard's Woodspring Apartments, an affordable housing complex for seniors, had to fight rent increases after their landlord raised rates once LIHTC requirements expired. Washington County ended up purchasing the property, but there are 4,189 more affordable housing units our state is at risk of losing by 2030. That's on top of an already daunting shortage of affordable housing in Oregon.

Too often in Portland and around the metro region, renting is precarious and predatory. One of my takeaways I shared at the Homelessness and Housing Committee is that in Vienna, renting is stable, dignified, and designed to build long-term security. One way Vienna creates stability is by removing lease term limits and allowing families to pass down their apartments to children, enabling intergenerational wealth building.

The scale of this is huge — 75% of all tenants qualify for social housing, and 76% of Vienna residents are renters. And yet, Vienna is consistently ranked one of the most livable cities in the world. It's proof that housing stability, not necessarily homeownership, is the real foundation of thriving communities

I was thinking a lot about what that policy would mean for my constituents in East Portland, many of whom were priced out of other parts of our town. For generations, housing policy here displaced Black Portlanders and other marginalized groups — through exclusionary zoning, racially restrictive covenants, and redlining. Those were political choices that transferred wealth to white property owners and stripped it away from everyone else.

Vienna's policymakers made a different choice, and we can too, because our current way of doing affordable housing isn't working. For Portland leaders, coming back from Vienna with a shared set of observations builds alignment on where we need to go. It's easier to advocate for bold ideas like land banking, rent caps, or tenant protections when we've collectively seen them working at scale.

Importantly, international trips remind us that we are not alone. Other cities across the globe are wrestling with the same affordability, climate, and justice issues. It's humbling and empowering to see that transformative housing policy is possible, and to connect Portland's work to a global movement for housing as a human right.

As far as next steps, we'll be working more with Portland Housing Bureau staff to capture all that we learned in the report that's due next spring, collaborating with community partners and housing providers to identify policy priorities and potential pilot projects, and joining future community engagement events hosted by Neighborhood Partnerships. I've asked my colleagues Councilor Mitch Green and Councilor Jamie Dunphy to reflect on their takeaways from Vienna, and what City Council can do next to help create quality housing and affordability for all Portlanders.

Councilor Mitch Green

View full size image of Meeting with Elke Hanel-Torsch, Austria National Council, Executive Chair of Tenants' Association Vienna

My biggest takeaway was the staggering cost-effectiveness of the Vienna model. We saw a city that is able to deliver high-quality, permanently affordable homes for the majority of its population at a fraction of the cost per-capita we spend in Portland. Vienna used to have many of the same problems Portland has today- unaffordable housing, rampant homelessness, and a withering economy. Their solution was to design a system around the idea that housing should be a right, not a commodity. They saw that the city could and should play a decisive role in ensuring that right. The result is one of the safest, cleanest, and most livable cities in the world. It's a model that is dramatically more humane, and more fiscally responsible. You can't experience that system and not want to come back and fight for something similar here.

We're often told in Portland that things like tenant protections, rent control, and taxes on the wealthy will tank our economy. Yet in Vienna, a city with the world's strongest tenant protections, near-universal rent control, and steeply progressive taxation, the economy is booming. Shops and cafes are bustling. There are construction cranes in the sky everywhere you look. Vienna's success puts the lie to the scare tactics used to maintain a status quo that is clearly failing us.

I think one of the main lessons we can take from Vienna is how they allocate affordable housing. In Portland, we treat public housing as a program for the poor, and as a result it is stigmatized, neglected, and chronically underfunded. In their model, anyone making 150% of the median income or less (the equivalent of $120,000 per year in Portland) qualifies for Social Housing. That's about three-fourths of the entire population. By guaranteeing housing stability to the broad majority of middle class residents, it becomes less of a political football, and something more akin to a core service like parks or schools. That's the recipe for a successful, sustainable system.

Councilor Jamie Dunphy

The experience our delegation had in Vienna left a deep impression on me. My biggest takeaway from the study trip was how profoundly housing shapes a community when it is treated as a public good. Walking through Vienna's neighborhoods, I saw people of all incomes living together intentionally. Kids played in shared courtyards, families gathered in parks that were seamlessly built into each block, and every few minutes a train pulled up, full of people taking part in one of the best public transit systems I've ever seen. What struck me most was the absence of housing insecurity: people had stability, community, and dignity, and that sense of security permeated the entire city.

What surprised me most was how invisible income differences were. You couldn't tell how much someone earned by looking at where they lived. That wasn't by accident. It was by design: policies and investments that prevent segregation and ensure everyone has access to quality housing and neighborhood amenities. Seeing that in practice was far more powerful than reading about it.

For Portland, the lesson is clear. If Vienna can treat housing like schools, parks, or roads, something built, maintained, and protected as essential infrastructure, then we can too. With new Tax Increment Financing Districts on the horizon, we have the chance to invest in housing models that create lasting affordability, like co-ops, limited-profit housing, and publicly-owned developments that stay affordable for generations. We may not catch up to Vienna's century of progress, but we can take bold steps now to ensure that in the future, Portland neighborhoods are places where affordability is permanent, incomes are mixed, and every family has the security to plan their future. The Vienna model proves it is possible, and the question before us is whether we are ready to take the leap here in Portland. I believe we can.

Setting the Record Straight on District 1’s Community Office
By Councilor Candace Avalos

Let’s talk about the District 1 office space. 

In yesterday’s City Council meeting, we voted 12-0 on the ordinance to approve a lease for the new District 1 community office that Councilor Dunphy and I worked hard to secure. This is a huge step forward that comes after months of searching for a space we could share and welcome our community in East Portland to connect with their government. But there has been some confusion, misinformation in the media, and questions about why all three councilors aren’t sharing a joint space. Therefore I wanted to set the record straight about what actually happened, why we made these decisions, and why this office is such an important win for East Portland — something we cannot afford to lose sight of. 

How We Got Here 

When Portland voters approved our new form of government, they sent a clear message: East Portland deserves full representation. After our transformational election to usher in a new era of city government, we have three District 1 councilors that represent all corners and perspectives of our district. Thanks to this change we now have a strong voice at the table for the communities furthest from City Hall who are used to being under resourced and underserved by our city government.  

Early this year, the three of us agreed that we needed a community office in District 1. This would be a shared space where constituents could reach their councilors without needing to travel all the way downtown. In other words, this was about meeting East Portlanders where they are, literally and figuratively.  And I am grateful that the councilors from all the other districts agreed that it’s time East Portland got the attention and resources we so deserve — and some councilors (Ryan, Pirtle-Guiney, and Koyama Lane) even contributed discretionary dollars from their budgets to support this effort.  

In January, the three of us District 1 councilors pooled our remaining discretionary funds from the fiscal year that ended in June 2025 to make this possible and used that as a starting place to begin shopping around for a space that could serve as a satellite office for the councilors, a community meeting space, and an open door to city government in District 1. But what we quickly realized was that finding space wasn’t going to be easy. East Portland has limited commercial real estate, and most sites needed major tenant improvements. We toured several options, including the Nick Fish Building, which had one built-out office (then occupied by Civic Life) and two raw spaces. I remember thinking in that moment that this was a blank canvass that could serve a broader purpose in the heart of Gateway beyond simply another administrative city office. I began to envision what it could look like to develop all three spaces with enough room for all councilors, their staff, and the community to enjoy.  

But that vision came to an end when, during the office tour, Councilor Smith announced she would be taking the built-out space for her own office rather than collaborating on a shared District 1 office. Whatever her reasons, the result was clear: we no longer had a path toward a single, shared space for all three councilors. The Civic Life office was small (a few cubicles, a bathroom, and a kitchenette) and it was immediately clear it could not accommodate three councilors, their staff, and the community activities we envisioned. Unfortunately, some media coverage has overlooked this reality, framing the decision as if Councilor Dunphy and I simply declined to join Smith’s office, rather than recognizing that the space was never large enough to serve the needs of the district as a whole.  Lastly, another unfortunate outcome of this unilateral decision is that Councilor Smith retracted the dollars she allocated to the shared pot for the District 1 Office, and convinced our colleague Councilor Ryan to do the same.  

Until recently, it was unclear to me why Councilor Smith chose to go her own way. It seems that her decision was based on a misunderstanding she has about a benign comment I made on values alignment. In a joint meeting months ago, I made the comment that it was ok that she and I represented different constituencies and led with a different set of values based on our lived experiences. This is a benefit and an asset to the communities of District 1. It is one of the primary reasons why there are three representatives in each district instead of one. When it works, everyone in each district has at least one person on council who aligns with them and will represent their needs on the dais. I believe this is something to celebrate and I would never expect councilors from the same district to agree on everything. It is unfortunate that Councilor Smith chose not to have this nuanced conversation and instead decided to isolate herself. I hope this doesn’t continue to negatively impact our ability to work together on the collective issues our East Portland constituents care about.  

Despite this setback, Councilor Dunphy and I kept working. We eventually found an opportunity at Multnomah Plaza, submitted a letter of intent, and negotiated favorable terms, including a landlord-funded build-out. With the dollars we had left (thank you to Council President Pirtle-Guiney and Council Vice President Koyama Lane for your one-time donation to our vision!), we were able to pre-pay the entire lease through June 2029, guaranteeing four years of stability for District 1 constituents and leaving about $55,000 in contingency funds for future upgrades and repairs. And the space we secured has enough room for Councilor Smith or any third councilor in the future to join us in our new office. 

Where We Go From Here 

So, why does this matter for East Portland? District 1 is home to the city’s largest communities of color, most of Portland’s children, and neighborhoods that have historically been left behind. Our residents need access to their government — and now they will have it!  

This new office will be more than a place for council business. It will be a hub for neighbors to gather, share ideas, and work with their councilors to solve problems together. It’s a long-term investment in making City Hall more accessible and in building trust with a community that has too often been asked to wait its turn. 

One thing I’ve learned about City Hall is that narratives can be twisted to fit someone’s agenda. That’s not how I lead. My focus is on bringing East Portland the resources and representation we’ve been promised. This office is one more way we are delivering on that promise. East Portland deserves transparency that puts our community first — and I will keep fighting to make sure we get it. 

Securing this lease is a victory for East Portland, but it’s also just the beginning. The real work starts when we open the doors and fill the space with energy, collaboration, and solutions. I hope you’ll join us when we cut the ribbon! But more importantly, I hope you’ll keep showing up, bringing your ideas, and helping us make this office a place where East Portland’s future is built. 

Why Our Unified Housing Strategy Matters — and Why We Need It Now 
 
By Councilor Candace Avalos  

If you’ve been following Portland politics, you know that housing is one of the most urgent issues facing our city. But what you might not know is that for too long, our housing policies have been fragmented — spread across agencies, disconnected from transportation and climate goals, and too often reactive rather than proactive. 

That’s why I introduced the Unified Housing Strategy Resolution: a roadmap to pull together the many pieces of our housing crisis into one clear, coordinated strategy. It’s about being honest with ourselves — about what’s working, what’s failing, and where we need to go as a city. I’m so excited that the UHS resolution was adopted by City Council because it means we can finally start the work that’s needed so every Portlander has a safe, affordable place to call home. 

Here’s why this matters, and why now. 

We are at a breaking point 

Rents are rising. Evictions are rising. Homelessness is rising. At the same time, we have thousands of units sitting vacant, projects stuck in permitting backlogs, and public dollars tied up in piecemeal programs that don’t add up to the scale of need. 

The public is frustrated — and they’re right to be. So are service providers, housing developers, and community leaders who tell me the same thing: We need the city to act like it has a plan. 

What the resolution does 

The Unified Housing Strategy Resolution sets clear goals to: 

✅ Align all city bureaus on shared housing priorities — so housing work isn’t siloed in the Housing Bureau, but integrated across transportation, planning, climate, and economic development. 

✅ Center affordable and deeply affordable housing — focusing especially on renters, low-income families, and historically marginalized communities who are being hit hardest by displacement. 

✅ Accelerate production and preservation — not just building new housing, but preserving what’s already affordable, preventing displacement, and tackling the root causes of housing instability. 

✅ Lay the groundwork for bold new models — like social housing, community land trusts, and public development, so we’re not stuck in the same cycles of relying solely on market solutions. 

✅ Create accountability — by setting measurable targets and reporting requirements so we can track progress, adjust when things aren’t working, and build public trust. 

Why this moment 

The status quo is no longer acceptable. Portland voters have made it clear they want bold, coordinated action on housing. And with a new council structure, we have a once-in-a-generation chance to reset how we govern — to move from reactive crisis management to long-term solutions. 

This resolution is not the end of the work; it’s the beginning of doing the work better. It gives us the mandate, the framework, and the shared commitment to tackle one of the biggest challenges facing Portland today. 

I believe we can be the city that leads on housing — not just in words, but in action. But it will take all of us, working together, under a unified strategy. 

Let’s get to work.