First, allow me to introduce myself. I’m a fellow US American living outside the US. When my partner got offered a job in Portugal, we assessed the situation (no other jobs, gentrification pushing us out of our old city, we both already spoke Portuguese) and decided to make the move. We’re now 3 years in and building lots of community, living life well in Lisbon.

We’ve arrived at the time of year when the requests are almost daily. Friends are going to be in town, do I want to meet up? Friends of friends are coming to town and want to know what’s happening. And then the people that tell me that someone they know is moving here, and would I be willing to talk to them. This letter is to be my response to that last category, so I don’t have to repeat myself over and over again.

You’re that friend of a friend. You’re tired of how things are in the US – the growing fascism and the way you and your family feel increasingly unsafe. Maybe you are queer or a “person of color” in US categories. Maybe you’re just tired of school shootings. Maybe your anxiety cannot handle it anymore. You visited Portugal (or insert other country you are considering there – I’m going to talk about Portugal, but much of this applies to most places), and you thought it was beautiful, had amazing food, and just felt so safe. You’ve researched the immigration process, and it is possible, and you want to do it. I understand.
And you are a US American – which means, like me, you are a citizen of the empire. Everyone in the world learns the imperial language as Lingua Franca, and in this era, that language is our native tongue, English. By nature of your citizenship, you have access to the US economy, which means there are ways you can earn a lot of money that other people don’t have access to, and that your home currency is valuable everywhere. You hold cultural power in that our countries cultural industries are hegemonic and the whole world knows something about where you come from.

The minimum wage in Portugal works different in the US. It’s a salary for full time work, includes extra months’ pay for holidays, and everyone has public health care and free childcare and paid time off for caregiving and such. But, when I have done a complicated equation, it is indeed as low as the US minimum wage, and which workers have it worse is probably the US workers, but they might have a little more cash, depending on hours worked. But, then when we look at middle class workers, in Portugal, they make more than minimum wage workers, but like twice as much, not dozens of times as much like in the US. Middle class workers do fine in Portugal’s economy, or at least they did (more on that shortly), but their wages don’t compete with the global middle class.

Around now, most US American leftists bring up the brutal legacy of Portugal’s colonialism. Yes, that is true, and that wealth is embedded in some various places in Portuguese society. And, let’s be clear that there are Portuguese workers making middle class income and minimum wage, and immigrants from their former colonies and immigrants from other countries’ former colonies too. It’s complicated, for sure, but the wealth of being a former colonial power does not mean that everyone who descended from that power is wealthy, despite what our simplistic ways of thinking might tell us. So, just naming Portugal's colonial legacy does not allow you an out from the hard questions here. 

So, let me be clear – you will be a gentrifier here. You will look at rent and home ownership prices and be able to make it work, while Portuguese and immigrants from poor countries just can’t. Your yes pushes them out. Sure, you might have been low income in a big US city, qualifying for subsidized childcare and the like, but here your earning power puts you in the rich and you can afford things that other people can’t. You will be part of pushing out the marginalized people here – and let’s be clear those are immigrants from Cabo Verde, Brazil, Angola, Mozambique, and increasingly, Southeast Asian countries, alongside poor Portuguese people. 

​You can indeed get around in English. You can make friends with other expats and have lovely community of similar expats – other tech workers, queer folks, Black Americans, etc. You can shop and eat out and speak English. You won’t understand the jokes about you made to your face, but I do, and people aren’t happy that you don’t speak any Portuguese. You won’t succeed at integrating, and you’ll live in a bubble. In the US, people either don’t know anyone in prison or they know a lot of people in prison because of how our race and class-based bubbles work – we don’t understand other experiences because we don’t even know they are happening. Here, you’ll be part of an elite bubble thinking things are fine when they are not. Meanwhile, everyday Portuguese voters see your presence and want an economy they can afford, and some percentage of them will then vote for a party that says “Enough!” and promises change, and happen to be far right fascists. Since I’ve been here, that party has gone from 1 seat in Parliament to 50, so I’m not joking around here. 

I don’t live in an expat bubble, and my relationships help me know how much of a problem expats are here We know we have economic power from my work in the US economy, despite the time zone limitations of when I can work and what I can do. We don’t know how to not be gentrifiers at all – but we work to fight gentrification. This letter is part of that fight.

If you are a US American considering moving to Portugal, here’s my asks to you:

1. Don’t come until you can pass a B1 language test – in other words, be an intermediate speaker when you arrive. That way you can participate in local institutions and be in conversations with your neighbors.
2. Before you come, begin to contribute a percentage of your salary to an association in Portugal, and I’d especially consider to an immigrant support organization.  Think about additional ways you can move money to the people who are struggling. 
3. Remember your coming here is going to displace people who lack the privilege that you have. Sit with that. You may be marginalized in the US, but here you will be really privileged as an English native speaker US-citizen who can earn in dollars. Are you just a colonizer to another territory if you come? Really sit with this. 
4. Do your social studies homework. Learn some Portuguese history, read the news (in Portuguese) every day, learn how the government and economy work. And make sure you are ready to explain the electoral college and related issues in Portuguese, especially this year. 

So, you’ve made it this far. It’s complicated is my answer, and I definitely think some amount of you need to just stop coming here. And there’s no right and wrong definite lines, and we must figure out how we live well in this globalized and violent world. 
If you are currently at risk and in danger, by all means, flee as fast as you can. But, if you aren’t in eminent danger, take a moment to really think about your impact. That doesn’t mean don’t emigrate. But I think there’s a bit more intention I’d like to see from a lot of my fellow opposition imperial citizens. 

May you sit in the uncomfortable questions and act with intention and care.
-Claire

Since the election of Trump in 2016, and even more acutely since George Floyd’s murder and the subsequent uprisings during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, organizers have faced an increasing number of polarized internal conflicts in our organizations. Maurice Mitchell described these conflicts in “Building Resilient Organizations” in 2022, identifying and analyzing many of the factors contributing to them. But even as an organizer and coach well-versed in these conflicts, I found myself surprised at how fast things escalated with a conflict of this type in my organization. As a virtual organization we didn’t have to see each other in person, and I was left wondering what might have happened if we’d been in an office. Would our communication have missed each other so much if we’d been face-to-face?  

Click here to read the rest of this piece on the Forge.
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Going back to school wasn't something I was very sure about... but my first semester I landed in a class applying the study of cultural trends to creative projects and I immediately saw how useful it could be for community organizing. My class project work led me to a first attempt at creative campaign tactics for base building and power building. And, with my classmates, we did the research for a new trends report - a process that was an incredibly rich learning experience. The map pictured here was an early draft ... there was much color coding and I loved it! I proud to have my work featured in this report, and excited to continue my studies with my thesis project this year. 

Read the whole report here: creativecultures.letras.ulisboa.pt/gtc/trends2023/

I had the pleasure of joining fellow trombonist John Covelli for this "video podcast" about trombone playing. It was a lovely conversation and I'm excited to get to share it with you. 

It was not easy to get to the release of this album, and I'm proud of myself for finishing the project (finally!).

The creative aspect of improvising the music was the easy part. It was hard to get over all my internal critics about the ways I should be playing better and allow myself to be satisfied with how I was playing the week I had studio time blocked. I mixed and mastered the album myself, which while I have some sound editing chops, was a new process for me and I learned a lot. It was hard to get to text and album cover - while I had amazing photos from the original street performance project from Raquel Pimental, I needed to decide on the ones I wanted to use and design an image. I had to decide what I wanted to say. And, most of all, I had to find a way to believing that my creative voice is worth sharing - and that was by far the hardest part. 

I'm glad to put some art into the world. Imperfect and creative. I'm proud of this album, what's in it and behind it. Take a listen and I hope you enjoy it.

Francisco Martins wrote a profile about my family's migration story and the relationship to climate change, published here for Earth Day 2022. 

I'm proud to have done this interview in Portuguese and to be able to talk about important topics across languages.

One of my reflections from reading this is about how by telling a story, there are stories we are choosing not to tell. There are so many other stories about climate migration that all deserve to be told this beautifully, and there are so many other parts to our story. But this story weaves a powerful narrative, part of my story, of how climate change is impacting our lives. 

​That faint whispering that awakens us from our sleep, only to find silence:
Felt absence surrounding us again.
 
Grief comes in waves, but the red flag has waved unceasingly for too long
The crashing is loud, again and again, like curdling screams held inside us. 
 
Each of those numbers reported as deaths each day,
Each of them leave someone with tears streaming down their cheeks
Someone whose life feels like it is in a thick soup of cloud for the next year
A whole family being knocked over by the waves, unable to swim.
 
Dying is part of living and grief is profound.
But we are in an age of such vast grief that we cannot hold it.
 
We grieve the lives we are not living, the dreams that died.
We grieve the people we have lost to death or distances.
We grieve the connectedness that we no longer feel.
 
The heart strings that weave us together are neglected, fraying.
The profound beauty of grief feels blurry, and we are lost. 
 
We numb in distractions, isolated.
We fall asleep, again into dreams. 

I got to join Jeniece for a conversation about what we're up to at the Sibling Transformation Project and our upcoming cohort and programming. Check it out at www.siblingtransformation.org. 

I don't speak French, but was interviewed by Claire Richard, to be part of a podcast in France on whiteness and anti-racist activism. 

This is the beginning of this piece published in full on The Forge: Organizing Strategy and Practice. 

I am an old-school organizer — the outsider who knocks on the doors of strangers, creating a sense of urgency so that people will take action in their own communities. I was trained by some of the best neighborhood organizers out there, in the final years of ACORN and in the first generation at the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment (ACCE). The outsider-organizer model fed my strengths — getting the work done — while also fulfilling my desire to remain anonymous and unseen.
 
Like many organizers who mastered this model, I am white, college-educated, and dedicated much of my waking hours to my political work. And, like many organizers, over the past decade I have been interrogating this outsider-organizer model. The outsider-organizer, not from the community that they are organizing, holds power by nature of their position, though this power is often hidden and unacknowledged. We talk to all of the members about the issues, tactics, strategies, interpersonal dynamics, and action planning what-ifs — giving us power to influence communities that we are not a part of. The outsider-organizer model is a piece of the white supremacy culture that many of our organizations have upheld, as white organizers shape the agenda in communities of color.
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I became an organizer because I have a brother with down syndrome, and, as we both came of age, I saw the lack of available support services for him. Believing in the interconnectedness of all of our issues, I worked at multi-issue organizations. Year after year, we organized for money for all kinds of social services in our city and state budgets, but our organizing never prevented the steep cuts to services for disabled people. As an outsider-organizer, it wasn’t my place to raise my own self-interest in fighting for disability services — meaning that my own organizing work did not deliver on what I most needed....