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may 19.2000 * J n t M tfjj j
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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
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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.