I said I'd never go back to Portland

People have described writing a book to me like having a baby. I have no fucking clue if that's true.

But if by that they mean an immensely painful process that forces you to reckon with parts of yourself you never expected to meet, then sure.

I can see it.

In the midst of writing my book for National Geographic, American Soul: The Black History of Food in the United States, I drowned in self-doubt. How was I going to do justice to this history, to my people, to a legacy that big?

In the midst of writing the book, I was diagnosed with ADHD and realized exactly why a long historical book felt like a challenge tailor-made for my particular deficiencies.

In the midst of writing the book, I moved to Portland, Oregon, where my ex-husband's family was. I moved across the country for love.

Portland became emblematic of everything that was hard in my life. Trying to adapt to a new place. Trying to find community. Trying to find myself in a city where I was deeply unhappy. Trying to finish a book when my life was so unsettled.

But somehow, during some of my darkest days, I finished it. I edited it. I turned it in.

I also made it out of Portland. I got divorced. I moved away, and brick by fucking brick, I rebuilt my life.

At first I said I would never go back to that city. Ever.

But the lens that I viewed the city through started to change. Little by little I was able to separate Portland from heartbreak. See Portland apart from the pain and alienation. I was able to see just how cool of a city it can be, despite how white it is and how deeply racist Portlanders can be.

I started to see how lucky I was to have spent time there.

So when it was time for my baby to come out into the world, I decided to go back. To that city with incredible food. To the city where strangers helped me start over.

Those same people came together for my book tour, to plan and host an event, to help me experience Portland in a different way. To help me make happy memories there.

And I knew I wanted to capture the version of Portland I now had in my heart. So I brought the crew, and we filmed an episode of Our Block. We dove into what makes that city special for Black folks, because we are there. And despite how difficult it can be, they can't get rid of us.

That's the memory I have of Portland now, and I'm honored to share it with you.

Watch it below.

If you haven't bought my book yet, this is the shameless plug. Go buy it.

It makes a great gift for the holidays. It's an ode to Black excellence, creativity and flavor. It belongs on your coffee table, in your mama's kitchen, in your sister's kitchen.

And if you already have it, please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

It takes a few minutes. It's how people find the book, and that matters most right now heading into the holidays.

Thank you for holding me down when I'm on a high, giggling with folks on a group trip in Morocco. And thank you for holding me down when I was crying on a borrowed mattress pad on the floor after I left Portland. I couldn't have done this without you.