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.