I’m a native Oregonian. The central part of the state has been my home for more than a quarter century. It’s where I expected to build my life.
It’s also where I fled after a harrowing marriage with a husband who threatened my life. With no money, no job, and no housing, I found safety and sanctuary deep in the woods of the Deschutes National Forest. That is where I lived for seven years.
But this spring, the Forest Service forced nearly 200 people, including me, from an area called China Hat, located just south of Bend, Oregon. This place, our home, was a last resort when systems failed us.
What we experienced was a mass displacement of people with nowhere else to go—and a harsh foreshadowing of what’s to come for others as cities and other entities fine, arrest, and jail people without providing any other safe place for them to live. Since the Supreme Court’s Grants Pass v. Johnson decision greenlit those cruel policies a year ago, they have been on the rise across the country.
None of us living in the woods were there because that is where we most wanted to be. Many of us have long histories of contributing to our communities. We worked. We paid taxes. Each of us has a story of hardship to tell.
I was a bar manager and a former volunteer firefighter before I fled from my husband after his second attempt on my life seven years ago. Despite a court order against contacting me, he’d show up at family and friends' homes, leaving messages that escalated to threats. I couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting my family, who sheltered me. And so I ended up in the woods.
There aren’t enough shelter beds in Bend for all the people who need them, and even “affordable housing” is a cruel joke for someone starting over with nothing. The average rent for a one-bedroom apartment in Bend is nearly $1,700; the average home price is well over $700,000.
The Forest Service offered no real solutions or alternatives for us needing a safe place to live. Instead, they issued tickets, made threats, and created an atmosphere of fear. They told us things would “get worse” if we didn’t leave, with some officers even threatening to burn our belongings. After the closure, I heard from some folks who snuck back that their campers, RVs, and vehicles had been destroyed.
In my case, I’ve been living with my boyfriend in an RV near my mom’s house. We are lucky; we’ve been approved for housing. However, we are the only ones I know of to be told we will get housing.
Many of my neighbors at the camp still don’t have a permanent place to live. It’s why I keep raising my voice so we all have permanent housing.
Displacing people with medical needs, disabilities, and mental health struggles without viable alternatives isn’t only unjust and inhumane—it’s bad public policy. Research shows that forced displacement worsens health, increases overdose risks, and can contribute to death. The Forest Service didn’t just remove campers; it shattered lives and increased dangers for desperate people.
The focus now must be on providing real support and solutions, not just pushing people from one temporary spot to the next. We need truly affordable housing, accessible health care, and a social safety net that doesn’t allow so many people to fall through the cracks.
We are not invisible. We are not disposable. We are your neighbors. We deserve to be seen, treated with basic human compassion, and to have our shared humanity recognized.
The woods were my sanctuary because the system failed me. Now that sanctuary is gone, leaving nothing but deeper desperation. This must be a turning point, a catalyst for finding real solutions to homelessness, not just sweeping it out of sight.
This column was produced for Progressive Perspectives, a project of The Progressive magazine, and distributed by Tribune News Service.