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This Is Not for You: An Activist’s Journey of Resistance and Resilience
This Is Not For You tells the story of activist and photographer Richard Brown, a Black Portlander who has spent decades working to bridge the divide between police and the Black community. His memoir brings readers with him into the streets with fellow activists, into squad cars with the rank-and-file, and to regular meetings with mayors and police chiefs. There are very few people doing the kind of work Richard Brown has done. And that, as he sees it, is a big problem.
The book finds Brown approaching his eightieth birthday and reflecting on his life. As he recalls his childhood in 1940s Harlem, his radicalization in the newly desegregated Air Force, and his decades of activism in one of America’s whitest cities, he questions how much longer he'll do this work, and he wonders who, if anyone, will take his place.
This is a book about how and why to become an engaged, activist citizen, and how activists can stay grounded, no matter how deeply they immerse themselves in the work. It also offers an intimate, firsthand look at policing: what policing is and could be, how civilians can have a say, and how police can and should be responsive to and inclusive of civilian voices. This Is Not For You speaks on every page about being Black in America: about Black pride; Black history, art, and culture; and the experience of resisting white supremacy. It also stands as a much-needed counternarrative to “Portlandia,” telling a different story about the city and who has shaped it.
The book finds Brown approaching his eightieth birthday and reflecting on his life. As he recalls his childhood in 1940s Harlem, his radicalization in the newly desegregated Air Force, and his decades of activism in one of America’s whitest cities, he questions how much longer he'll do this work, and he wonders who, if anyone, will take his place.
This is a book about how and why to become an engaged, activist citizen, and how activists can stay grounded, no matter how deeply they immerse themselves in the work. It also offers an intimate, firsthand look at policing: what policing is and could be, how civilians can have a say, and how police can and should be responsive to and inclusive of civilian voices. This Is Not For You speaks on every page about being Black in America: about Black pride; Black history, art, and culture; and the experience of resisting white supremacy. It also stands as a much-needed counternarrative to “Portlandia,” telling a different story about the city and who has shaped it.
256 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 28, 2021
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575 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
March 7, 2021
This is Not for You is a book about the life of activist and photographer, Mr. Richard Brown. It takes us from his childhood in Harlem, through his air force escapades everywhere from Texas to Germany doing everything between wrangling rattlesnakes and racing cars down the Autobahn. It brings us to his life in Portland, where he finally finds himself free to lose himself in his photography while being, somewhat reluctantly and then completely and necessarily, called to activism.
This book feels like an intersection between art and activism, passion and necessity and how both of those elements uphold one another. It speaks to the everyday shades of activism— the unsexy activism, the regular disappointments, the small victories, the patience to make change happen, and the how of doing it. Specifically, Richard's work centers around Black Portlanders (and educational policy and advocating for Black youth and community policing and the list goes on).
His work is never-ending and so he wrote this book for us all, a call to action for you and me. I hope you'll read it, and then maybe read it again. I know I will.
This book feels like an intersection between art and activism, passion and necessity and how both of those elements uphold one another. It speaks to the everyday shades of activism— the unsexy activism, the regular disappointments, the small victories, the patience to make change happen, and the how of doing it. Specifically, Richard's work centers around Black Portlanders (and educational policy and advocating for Black youth and community policing and the list goes on).
His work is never-ending and so he wrote this book for us all, a call to action for you and me. I hope you'll read it, and then maybe read it again. I know I will.
March 31, 2021
At a time when we urgently need police reform in most of the U.S., Brown weaves his fascinating coming of age story with a close look at what community policing is and isn't, and examples of how to bridge the divide between police and the Black community. He shows us how an individual can live, learn and use his/her talents to become an effective agent for change. I know I'll reread it.
This is a call for everyone who longs for more justice to join in, and shows how one man uses what he has, in the place he is, during the time he has to do all he can to make life better for countless others. I couldn't put it down!
This is a call for everyone who longs for more justice to join in, and shows how one man uses what he has, in the place he is, during the time he has to do all he can to make life better for countless others. I couldn't put it down!
June 21, 2021
Very engaging autobiography/coming of age story of a Black man, growing up in NYC, twenty years in the Air Force living all over the world, and then moving to Portland to become a photographer, chronicler, and activist for police reform in Portland. The book is well-written and well-paced, and I was very interested throughout. As well as learning about Mr. Brown's life, I learned much I did not know about life in Portland for Black people in the 1980's and 90's. Highly recommend.
May 20, 2022
I’d recommend this to any other Portlanders or Oregonians for a glimpse into local black community, history, activism, and insight into police-community relations over the last couple decades.
March 31, 2021
Great read from start to finish. From the growing up days in Harlem, watching the world through a window, how he as a black man was treated in the military, cruising in his cars to his days in Portland as a photographer and activist. His views as a black man in Portland gave me a perspective on the city I didn't have before. So inspirational reading about Hope and Hard Work. And made me reflect on one person affecting change. Absolutely loved the photography. Would love to see more.
March 30, 2021
Reading this is like sitting on a porch on summer evenings listening to life stories. My interest was held as they moved from brash adolescence to mature efforts to make change from without and within.
May 14, 2021
This Is Not For You tells the story of activist and photographer Richard Brown. In these pages, you'll find a nuanced account of the hard work and care that goes into everyday activism—the weekly meetings, foot patrols, phone trees. Not just voting, but talking to state representatives, meeting with them, holding them accountable. Brown shares with us his story of resisting systemic racism with candor and insight. This Is Not For You is beautifully written, deeply moving, and often quite funny, but ultimately it is a call to action. "I'm trusting you," Brown says. "Like many of my forebears trusted me, to make what you will of what and who came before. Trusting you to look at the paths I took and where they took me. Trusting you to take what you like, as you forge a path of your own."
Here are a couple of my favorite excerpts:
"It's a muggy summer night, and I'm out on Alberta, carrying my camera and weaving through the Last Thursday throngs. Last Thursday, it's this monthly art walk, kind of like a First Friday but with fewer wine spritzers and more fire dancers. Seriously, I just walked by two teenage girls twirling flaming batons. Over the last hour, I've also seen a jug band, a capoeira circle, a guy blowing giant bubbles at giggling kids, a hundred-some vendors hawking who-knows-what, and a duck on a leash.
Twenty years ago, on this street? It was a rock in a pipe, a needle in an arm.
But now? Duck on a leash.
If I think about how this came to be—if I remind myself that it was Black activists who cleaned up Alberta, only for Alberta to end up owned and operated by white folks who seem to know very little about who and what come before—I'll get upset. So, mostly, I don't think about it. Because the time to stop gentrification here has passed. It is gone. And I have grieved it plenty. The way I feel about gentrified Alberta isn't far from how I felt about Enid, Oklahoma. I'm not going to waste my time and spirit grumbling about what and how it isn't. I'm going to make what I can of what it is."
"The light's fading. I am, too. The street's still full of families, but I'm seeing more beer and less art, and maybe I'll just go home now. Lately I've been liking going home early. Living slow. Doing what I want, when I want. For years I've said my activist work is what I want. And I've meant it. But now? Now, I really want to be retired. I don't plan to start watching Matlock and playing bridge. It's just—I want to take more pictures I won't print, catch more fish I won't keep. I want to relax.
I'm about to head for my car when I hear my name. I look up. Beth's standing on the sidewalk outside of Solae's. Part of me just wants to wave, move on. But it's such a nice night, and I figure there's no harm in enjoying a few minutes of it with one of my favorite people. So I walk over, and we hug, and we talk, and pretty quick, the small talk turns to big talk, about how she's working so hard on this bus-driver's union but she's not sure what their demands are or how they should be voiced. I'm offering ideas, and she's asking questions, and at some point she checks her watch and says it's time to head in and am I coming? I almost say no. I almost say, I've got a date with my basement. But I'd like to keep talking. And it's a nice, nice night. And you never do know how many more of those you'll get.
Three hours later, I'm still at the club."
Here are a couple of my favorite excerpts:
"It's a muggy summer night, and I'm out on Alberta, carrying my camera and weaving through the Last Thursday throngs. Last Thursday, it's this monthly art walk, kind of like a First Friday but with fewer wine spritzers and more fire dancers. Seriously, I just walked by two teenage girls twirling flaming batons. Over the last hour, I've also seen a jug band, a capoeira circle, a guy blowing giant bubbles at giggling kids, a hundred-some vendors hawking who-knows-what, and a duck on a leash.
Twenty years ago, on this street? It was a rock in a pipe, a needle in an arm.
But now? Duck on a leash.
If I think about how this came to be—if I remind myself that it was Black activists who cleaned up Alberta, only for Alberta to end up owned and operated by white folks who seem to know very little about who and what come before—I'll get upset. So, mostly, I don't think about it. Because the time to stop gentrification here has passed. It is gone. And I have grieved it plenty. The way I feel about gentrified Alberta isn't far from how I felt about Enid, Oklahoma. I'm not going to waste my time and spirit grumbling about what and how it isn't. I'm going to make what I can of what it is."
"The light's fading. I am, too. The street's still full of families, but I'm seeing more beer and less art, and maybe I'll just go home now. Lately I've been liking going home early. Living slow. Doing what I want, when I want. For years I've said my activist work is what I want. And I've meant it. But now? Now, I really want to be retired. I don't plan to start watching Matlock and playing bridge. It's just—I want to take more pictures I won't print, catch more fish I won't keep. I want to relax.
I'm about to head for my car when I hear my name. I look up. Beth's standing on the sidewalk outside of Solae's. Part of me just wants to wave, move on. But it's such a nice night, and I figure there's no harm in enjoying a few minutes of it with one of my favorite people. So I walk over, and we hug, and we talk, and pretty quick, the small talk turns to big talk, about how she's working so hard on this bus-driver's union but she's not sure what their demands are or how they should be voiced. I'm offering ideas, and she's asking questions, and at some point she checks her watch and says it's time to head in and am I coming? I almost say no. I almost say, I've got a date with my basement. But I'd like to keep talking. And it's a nice, nice night. And you never do know how many more of those you'll get.
Three hours later, I'm still at the club."
April 27, 2021
I read This is Not for You because I wanted to better understand my new hometown (Portland) through the life experience of someone who has lived in the city for decades. I've read a fair amount of history about Oregon while I've lived here but nothing taught me quite as much about the complexities of race and racism, gentrification, and the long history of activism in the city as this book did. Through Richard Brown's reflections on his life in the military, his decades of activist work in Portland, and his insights on gentrification in the city I was able to more deeply understand the city I now call home. Richard Brown offers candid takes on inter-generational activist work as well as the ways well-intentioned Portland White activists sometimes get it wrong. I was drawn into the parts of his activist work that relate to collaborating with the Oregon Police Academy. Brown was a board member on the advisory board at the Police Academy in an attempt to introduce community policing and anti-racist police training. I was struck by Brown's tenacity with this work, despite setbacks, and it was a good reminder that police reform work started long before 2020. This book is a must-read for anyone interested in racial justice activism/change and the complex history of race and racism in Portland. Brown is a photographer and his stunning selected photos of Black Portlanders are included in the book.
July 4, 2021
An important work on a little known but crucial part of Portland history. Richard Brown, and his decades of work with and for the black community, should be widely known and lauded.
"I want to tell every cop in this room that so much could change if they'd just slow down, just wait a little longer to draw their guns, long enough to see they might not need to draw guns at all; that they need to stop talking about "fearing for their live" and "getting home safe," as if the people they shoot don't want that, too; that there are so many smart, patient civilians who would listen and work with them if they'd finally just step out of their blue cocoon. And I want to talk to those civilians, too. I want to tell them that we need them — legions of them — to do this work, and that they need to be prepared to do it for years, of their own volition, with not a single backslap or attaboy; I want to tell them to please hold onto their anger, to let go of their need to blame, to become fluent in the language of where-do-we-go-from here."
"I want to tell every cop in this room that so much could change if they'd just slow down, just wait a little longer to draw their guns, long enough to see they might not need to draw guns at all; that they need to stop talking about "fearing for their live" and "getting home safe," as if the people they shoot don't want that, too; that there are so many smart, patient civilians who would listen and work with them if they'd finally just step out of their blue cocoon. And I want to talk to those civilians, too. I want to tell them that we need them — legions of them — to do this work, and that they need to be prepared to do it for years, of their own volition, with not a single backslap or attaboy; I want to tell them to please hold onto their anger, to let go of their need to blame, to become fluent in the language of where-do-we-go-from here."
April 28, 2021
This fascinating memoir of Portland activist Richard Brown's includes his early life in Harlem, his career in the Air Force, and his life as a photographer who mostly focused on portraying Portland's Black community. It was particularly meaningful to read Portland history from Brown's perspective and about local characters and places familiar to me. His dedication to activism and to inspiring youth blew me away. The discrimination, hardships and setbacks Brown endured are heartbreaking--he has had remarkable persistence despite so many significant challenges. Kudos to Richard Brown and Brian Benson for this extraordinary book.
June 4, 2021
Beautifully written and timely memoir. Richard Brown’s story takes readers from Harlem to Germany, the Philippines, Nicaragua, and ultimately Portland, Oregon—pre-gentrification—where we learn about the efforts of organizations and individuals to advocate for Black communities. It’s one man’s remarkable and complex experience trying to educate and collaborate with police, and a well-told history lesson on activism in one of our most progressive cities. I’ll be thinking about this story, and its striking photographs, for a long time.
December 26, 2021
I listemed to a book talk that Powell's Bookstore hosted early in 2021 which included Richard Brown, Brian Benson and the Powell's host. I was fascinated by what Mr. Brown had to say so I purchased the book which I just finished today. The writing is a solid 4; the story Mr. Brown shares (a true story) is what rates a 5. We all could learn a lot from what Mr. Brown has learned during his lifetime in the service and then during his retirement as he became a photographer and then an activist.
December 28, 2021
This is the story of one Portlander’s life, the lens through which he sees the world, and his unwavering commitment to social justice and activism on behalf of his Black community. It’s told with warmth and humility, passion and grace, and reads as if you’re sitting alongside Richard in an armchair while he weaves together the stories of his life. (And what a life he's had!) The book was both calming and inspiring, traits that are hard to come by when writing on the themes of race, inequality, and social justice. Highly recommend!
April 14, 2021
I really enjoyed hearing about this man's life. Definitely wish I could have seen some the pictures included in the physical novel, but the audiobook was really great. I think my favorite part of this book is that, while it doesn't outright offer directions for doing what he did, it was explained well enough that anyone can find really tangible, helpful information to adopt into their own activism. Inspiring.
April 1, 2022
At a time of the need for police reform, I found it touching and inspiring hearing the stories of the elder who came before us. I will always ask from here forward "how are the children?". Highly recommended.
April 19, 2021
A great reminder that activism comes in many different forms, and that "retirement" can lead to a whole new beginning.
July 5, 2021
Super great book: definitely a must read for everyone!
May 28, 2022
Amazing read! Every photographer should read this.
June 29, 2023
An inspiring and instructive tale of this activist's life and difficult choices, his deeply considered and refreshing opinions and his efforts to increase the safety of Portland's Black population.
September 15, 2021
This is an essential read for Portlanders (and really anyone) wanting to understand systemic racism and its impact on communities of color in our city. By taking us through his decades of artistic and community engagement, Mr. Brown shows readers what sustained political activism looks like. His stories are inspiring, heart-felt, and, at times, humorous. This is a life worth celebrating by spending some time in these pages, listening to Mr. Brown's strong and distinct voice.
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews