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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (May 19, 2000)
um iti; ivi may 19.2000 * J n t M tfjj j mews S oul F ood Sisters of the Road Cafe serves up some stew— and opportunities teel Fixler’s office space is perched on a tall indoor balcony, surrounded closely by the cluttered desks of co workers, and is only accessible by a steep, narrow spiral staircase. Amid the jumble of office supplies, a futon— called the “napatorium”— sits like a stuffed slug, and a large rainbow flag hangs from the ceiling. Below the loft, more than 100 hungry visi tors chat together and chomp on beef stew with combread, the special of the day. Fixler says this scene is a typical afternoon at the Sisters of the Road Cafe, maybe a bit busier because of the nasty weather outside. Though May has arrived, it’s still cold in Portland— today, at least— and dark clouds drop rain like hyperactive seagulls. Today the dining area is a blur of people; ...... ........ .i some are in line to get food, many are eating and talking with their neighbors. The kitchen is abuzz with clanking pots and a frantic plea to avoid stepping on a fallen piece of cheesecake. Sisters of the Road, at 133 N.W. Sixth Ave., is one of Northwest Portland’s hubs for the homeless, a place where lunch costs $1.25 and opportunities are abundant. (If someone does not have money, he or she may use food stamps J ust U nited Not quite married, but close enough for a taste of equality: Small-town paper publicizes domestic partnership omething looked different on the back page of the Saturday, March 25, edition of the The Ashland Daily Tid ings. The Tidings is the newspaper that greets the 20,000 residents of Ashland, Ore., each afternoon. This small city, nestled at the base of the Siskiyou Mountains, is home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and Southern Oregon University. Both institutions contribute to the progressive current that runs through the city and its citizens. Right there, amongst the public safety announcements, obituaries, movie listings and meeting notices, was a photo of two glowing men in bow ties. They weren’t selling anything. The text next to the picture explained that Michael Charles Clark and David Alan Ruks II were united in loving domestic union on Nov. 1, 1999, at the Ashland Municipal Court House. “We both are kind of the marrying type. We want the picket fence and all that,” Clark tells Just Out. Michael Clark, 22, is a master’s degree can didate in education and plans to be a music teacher. David Ruks, 23, is a criminology major working toward becoming a police officer. They have been together for four and a half years. In October 1999, Ashland’s City Council voted to establish a domestic partnership reg istry, the first program in Oregon to formally document same-sex relationships. The purpose, according to the registration form, is to provide a “means by which unmar ried, committed couples who share a life and by Mary Ann Petersen home together may document their relation ship.” Couples who could legally marry are not allowed to register. For $25 you and your partner, after present ing identification and filling out forms, are declared domestic partners. The city asks to be notified in the event that one partner dies or the couple breaks up. After registering their partnership, Clark and Ruks sent a press release to the local papers along with the standard groom-and-groom information— all four parents’ names and loca tions proudly appeared. The Medford Mail Tribune, in a town about 15 miles away, responded with an e-mail telling Unions rg in g harge nded. eased w h ile Ju ve- lr driv- of in- sed to I High »e Av- fescue hland • by Katy Davidson or work in exchange for food.) The cafe is visit ed daily by people of all ages, races and sexual orientations— accordingly, the cafes mantra is “all are welcome.” Fixler, a friendly, authoritative lesbian with a flattop, has been serving as the cafe’s associate director for two and a half years. After working much of her adult life for the Girl Scouts of America, she moved to Portland and, after a stint with the Oregon Food Bank, stepped into her current position. At Sisters of the Road, Fixler s official job is to supervise programs, write grant applications and coordinate other activities, but like every employee, she’s cross-trained. Some days she’ll fill in for the cashier, others she’ll hang out front of the cafe, subconsciously beckoning to queers. “Because 1 look so butch, it’s like I’m a wel come mat,” she says. Because they are not welcome in schools or in their homes, 50 percent of all homeless youths are queer, Fixler says, adding, “T hat’s a frightening and staggering statistic to me.” Sisters of the Road began operating 20 years ago under a philosophy of openness. In the beginning, it was supported primarily by les bians, who inhabited Old Town at the time. “If you were going to be out, this is where you could he out,” Fixler says. Twenty years ago, Darcelle XV spoke at the cafe’s first fund-raising event and, appropriately, will be the honorary chair of this year’s annual spring auction on June 17. At this event, 300 attendees will bid on plane rides, dinner packages, fishing trip» and other gifts donated by Northwest businesses. The cafe usually makes about $50,000 at the event, roughly 10 percent of its yearly budget. Over the years, the cafe has served nearly 1 million meals and helped countless people gain the social and vocational skills needed to get off the streets. Though Fixler says Sisters of the Road is a public restaurant, “just like the Hilton or Burger King,” it’s clear that much more goes on here. The cafe is staffed with 22 workers, several of them job trainees and student volunteers. Aside from serving about 250 meals a day, the staff oversees job training and support groups. The cafe is an information center, a resource library, and a message center— it accepts incoming let ters, packages and phone messages for hundreds of homeless individuals who may use the address as their own. “Our whole purpose is to build relationships between people, through food, through hospi tality,” Fixler says. “And we walk our talk every single day here.” ■ The S isters of the R oad C afe spring auction, Food for the Sold, will take place June 17 at the Portland Marriott, 1401 S.W. Naito Parkway. For more information, call (503) 222-5694. K aty D avidson is a Just Out staff writer. She may be reached at katy@justout.com. the two men that an editorial meeting would he soning that Clark and Ruks’ joining technically called to decide what to do. The paper eventu was not a wedding. ally declined to print the couple’s announce “The best thing I could come up with on ment, mainly because their partnership is not such short notice was ‘union,’ ” he says. recognized as a marriage. Heie didn’t consult with other staff about the Troy Heie, news editor of the Ashland Tid- ; paper’s policy, he explains, emphasizing that ings, says: “We’ve never had a hard and fast pol Ashland maintains a liberal reputation. icy on it.” “I just decided if these people are recognized In the five years Heie has worked at the Tid by the city, then they have every right to be in ings, he doesn’t recall any gay or lesbian wedding the paper just like someone who is recognized by announcements coming across his desk. But, the church,” he says. since he had space to run the men’s information, W hen asked how the public reacted to the he treated it like any other public service listing of the not-quite-marriage union, Heie announcement, he says. responds: “It hasn’t really been that big of a When asked if he thought the paper was deal.” making a statement by printing the item, Heie Heie says most of the responses were posi said he didn’t think much about it at the time. tive. A few subscribers canceled their subscrip “I looked in our weddings file, saw the tions and listed the announcement as only one announcement, and scanned the photo,” he of several complaints, but no one canceled sole explains. ly because of the featured union. Heie does admit to a moment’s hesitation as Since their announcement appeared, Clark he tried to think of a heading that would be and Ruks have been greeted with handshakes appropriate. He decided against “wedding,” rea- and congratulations— even from people in the community to whom they had not officially come out. “T he response has only been positive,” says Clark. At the middle school where Clark is a stu Michael Charles Clark dent teacher, some of the students saw the paper David Alan Ruks H were mdte and asked if he really is gay. “I knew it!” most loving domestic union Nov. 1, responded when told yes. at the Ashland Municipal G Both men have supportive parents. Clark’s family lives in nearby Klamath Falls, Ruks’ lives H°M r Clark is the son ° f Chi up north in Salem. and Sandra Clark of Klai In expressing his appreciation for Ashland’s Falls. He is a graduate studei progressive policy, Clark says: “This is a wonder eduation at Southern Oregon ful place to he gay. [Domestic parthership regis tration! is a wonderful first step. I’m really excit VCIM ? Ruks is the son of D ed that Ashland is as forward thinking as it is, Alan Ruks and WendeU RuK and it really makes me feel like I’m wanted and Salem. He is a student at R< I have a place here, and that this is my home.” Clark-Ruks Community College. ■ M ary A nn P etersen is a Just Out reporter liv ing and wnting m Eugene.
