M Artin l uther K ing J r .
January 16, 2019
2019 special edition
Page 11
photo C ourtesy s aM s aChs
Members of communities of color and members of the police community gather together to eat and have conversations at a “Breaking Bread, Breaking Barriers” event
organized by Sam Sachs, a former law enforcement officer and former Portland Human Rights Commissioner. The meet up was held at “Noho’s Hawaiian Café, 5627 N.E.
Fremont St., whose owner Noho Marchesia, a friend of Sach’s provides free space and food for the monthy events.
‘No Hate Zone’ breaks bread and barriers
C ontinueD froM f ront
Having grown up as a Jew-
ish kid in a predominately white
Christian community at South
Albany High School, Sachs said
he received his fair share of ra-
cial epithets from other kids, who
used the Star of David around
Sachs’ neck as a target for hate
and discrimination in the 1980s.
At the time, the school’s mascot
was the Rebels and its logo was
the Confederate flag.
“I would be harassed. And
people would call me ‘k-ke’ or
‘h-be’ or a ‘f---ing Jew,’” Sachs,
50, told the Portland Observer.
But being a well-built and
skilled football player at the
school meant when others picked
a fight with Sachs, he fought
back and usually won, he said.
“I make no bones about it, I
was a tough guy. And I would
beat people up. And I got pretty
good at it through junior high/
high school, the Army, college,
probably until I was 26. I would
use violence to respond to rac-
ism or anti-Semitism,” Sachs
explained.
He clarified that the fights
were always “mutual combat”
and never seriously injured any-
one or sent them to the hospital.
One night while he was attend-
ing and playing football at West-
ern Oregon University in Mon-
mouth, Sachs brawled in what
would become a life-changing
altercation. Everyone was yell-
ing something during the fight,
Sachs said, but he couldn’t un-
derstand what they were saying.
After the fight, a buddy ex-
plained that the people were
chanting a rather unflattering
nickname, “psycho.” “You’re a
psycho when you fight,” the friend
told him. Something changed in
Sachs when he heard that.
“From that day on, I prom-
ised myself I would never use
violence ever again. And I would
never respond. It was an eye
opener, it was an ‘aha’ moment,
because I was like, ‘they think
I’m crazy,’” Sachs recalled.
Rather than giving up in the
fight against racism, though,
Sachs would take up his battles
through other, more effective,
means.
“I still deal with anti-Sem-
itism. But rather than use my
fists, I use my mouth, my heart,
my head to respond to people.
It’s much, much more powerful
than beating somebody up. Be-
cause you can beat somebody
up, it doesn’t change them. They
just probably hate you more or
they’re more upset because they
got beat up by a Jew, the very
thing they despise,” Sachs said.
After college, Sachs went on
C ontinueD on p age 13