January 16, 2019
M Artin l uther K ing J r .
2019 special edition
‘No Hate Zone’ breaks bread and barriers
C ontinueD froM p age 11
to work in law enforcement in various ca-
pacities from 1992 to until the late 2000s.
During his stint in the police academy
in 1996, Sachs was again discriminated
against based on his religion and end-
ed up successfully suing Oregon Public
Safety Academy for anti-Semitic com-
ments made during his training there as a
corrections officer. That lawsuit spurred
a state task force investigation that even-
tually determined there were systemic is-
sues in the academy.
Working in law enforcement, Sachs
said he did occasionally see discrimina-
tion from his colleagues against black
and brown people, but emphasized the
vast majority of officers he’d worked
with were not overtly racist. Some
weren’t racist at all, while others were
uneducated about diversity and race re-
lations, he said.
Still, he’d seen colleagues racially pro-
filing people of color during traffic stops
and even worked with a group of men
that called themselves “The Brotherhood
of the Strong,” who beat inmates up in
county jails.
Having been on the receiving end of
discrimination back at the police academy
and having been a member of the honor
guard for Multnomah County Sherriff’s
office for two years, where he regularly
attended the funerals of officers killed in
the line of duty, Sachs said he has a foot
in both worlds. Seeking to reconcile the
fight against racism while also remem-
bering cops are human, too, is what led
him to do the work he does today with
the monthly dinners at Noho’s, which he
calls Breaking Bread Breaking Barriers.
“[I] try to bring both groups together to
get to understand and see each other in a bet-
ter light, in a more humane light. Because
the reality is there are many more cops and
community members that have much more
in common than they think. Their priorities
are the same, wanting a good way of life
and to be compassionate and understand-
ing. But somewhere along the line, all of
that has gotten lost. And it has to do with
police brutality and the policing of black
and brown communities. And police have
to take ownership for that,” Sachs said.
He returned to the police academy in
2008 as an instructor in diversity and
during his stint as a Human Rights Com-
missioner for the city, he chaired the
commission’s Community Police and
Relations Committee.
Thanks to Sachs’ efforts, local and
state government in Oregon have ad-
opted equitable hiring practices inspired
by the Pittsburg Steelers’ Rooney Rule,
named after former Steelers’ owner and
former chairman of the league’s diversity
committee, Dan Rooney, which compels
the hiring entity to interview at least one
ethnic minority for leadership positions.
That effort started in 2009 when Sachs
successfully lobbied the Oregon State
Legislature to pass House Bill 3118,
which requires the interviewing of at least
one qualified minority applicant when
hiring a head coach or athletics director
at any Oregon state-funded University. A
similar measure was adopted for the hir-
ing of city of Portland bureau directors,
called the Charles Jordan Standard, and
named after the City of Portland’s first
African American Commissioner.
Most recently, in November, Sachs
approached Multnomah County Com-
missioner Loretta Smith and successful-
ly lobbied the Board of Commissioners
to adopt a version of the policy, called
The Gladys McCoy Standard for hiring
executive-level positions. It’s named af-
ter the pioneering politician who was the
first elected African American woman to
serve on, and later chair, the Multnomah
County Board of Commissioners from
the late 1970s to early 1990s.
Sachs also lobbied to eliminate the use
of Native American Mascots in Oregon
Schools, part of a larger effort original-
ly brought to the legislature by Native
American activists in 2006. He was also
involved in advocating for changing the
mascot of his former South Albany High
School, who had eliminated the Confed-
erate Flag from its logo 10 years ago,
from the Rebels to the Redhawks.
Sachs said the change to the mascot
was ultimately championed by the stu-
Page 13
dents and staff of the school. He added
since then he’d seen people transform
their views on Confederate iconogra-
phy--from a source of school pride to
understanding of the harm it may cause--
just as he had.
“When I scored the winning touch-
down against West Albany my junior
year, we won 7-6. I ran around the field
with a Confederate flag. And I had no
idea what that flag meant to people, black
people and brown people. But once I re-
alized what it meant, then I had the ob-
ligation to try and change it. Everyone
does, just not everybody does it.”
For more information on Sam Sachs
and his anti-discrimination efforts, visit
thenohatezone.com.