![A nurse](https://multco-web7-psh-files-usw2.s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/s3fs-public/styles/small/s3/Coisha.jpeg?itok=yzDjW05d)
The murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis Police just days before is still fresh as Portland police officers clash with protesters who are calling for an end to police violence and systemic racism in the United States.
A large crowd has been steadily growing for a few hours, and Graham can hear the continuous clatter of rocks thrown against the building as she works her regular shift providing healthcare to incarcerated individuals.
Graham, a Black woman, is one of the many Corrections Health staff who feels caught in the crossfire after a national tragedy.
“As a Black woman working in a White area, it was a very difficult time, especially after George Floyd was murdered,” Graham says. “The reason they’re protesting is because my life matters.”
As night falls, Graham’s eyes begin to water, and the smell of smoke is heavy in the air. She will find out later that this was the result of a fire set by a rioter who broke into the records room on the second floor of the Justice Center.
As millions of workers moved to teleworking to avoid transmission of a highly contagious and often deadly virus, the Multnomah County Corrections Health team continued to report to work in person, providing essential healthcare to more than 700 incarcerated individuals.
Then, the death of George Floyd and the weeks of protests that followed transformed the lives of Multnomah County Corrections Health staff.
Beginning in May, thousands of protestors gathered nightly in downtown Portland and outside the Multnomah County Justice Center. Police presence escalated rapidly outside the building as property damage accompanied larger peaceful protests.
Graham remembers being harassed by a police officer, who confused her for a protestor, while she walked to her car one night after a long shift.
“It was like, ‘You don’t even know who you’re yelling at, first of all. And second of all, there’s already a tension because of racial injustices, and you’re yelling at a Black woman across the street,’” Graham says.
“A lot of my counterparts were worried about the protestors, but didn’t have to also worry about the police.”
Graham also recalls being yelled at more than once by White protestors, telling her to quit her job, while entering and leaving work.
“It seemed like many of the protestors hadn’t realized there are hundreds of (incarcerated) people in this building who need healthcare,” she says. “It was like, ‘Well do you have a better job that will help Black people who are incarcerated?’”
Instances like the ones Graham experienced were not uncommon, says fellow Correctional Health Nurse Beth Takahashi. It takes a toll on you, she adds.
“You come into work, and all these things are happening that make you feel like you’re unappreciated by the general public and it’s just very challenging,” she says.
Tensions between protestors and police reached a breaking point May 29 when someone broke in and started a fire inside the Justice Center.
After the fire, security around the Justice Center spiked. The Portland Police Bureau installed barricades to prevent people from vandalizing the building, and law enforcement agencies fired tear gas. Residual tear gas was reported at the Justice Center, affecting both the adults in custody and staff in Corrections, Corrections Health, Community Justice, the courts and others.
“There were some nights where we would exit the building into (more) tear gas,” Graham says.
“One day I had just gotten off and was walking halfway up the block and I literally couldn’t see. Luckily, there were some protestors there rinsing eyes.”
Correctional Health Senior Nursing Manager Myque Obiero describes the Justice Center at the height of the tensions as a “war zone.”
“You had police armed to the teeth looking like Rambo First Blood,” he says. “They’re IDing, and looking at me as a Black man — there was an immediate reaction, so I always had my ID up so they would let me through the barricades. It felt unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life.”
Simple tasks generally taken for granted became increasingly difficult. Members of the Corrections Health team often had to stay up to two hours after their regular shifts to safely navigate crowds outside of the Justice Center.
The weeks of protests and tension between police and protestors in the midst of a global pandemic took a heavy toll on the Corrections Health staff. Since the start of the pandemic, the Corrections Health Division has lost half of its night-shift nurses.
“It’s a challenging job as it is, and even then, I would be hard-pressed to find someone who had to deal with as many additional obstacles as Corrections Health,” says Obiero.
Multnomah County Health Department Operations Manager Rachael Lee agrees.
“We normalize so much stuff, but it’s just not a normal experience. We already work in a jail, and then to add all of these things on top of that, as a manager, to ask people to keep showing up was a really hard thing for me to do,” she says.
“When do we say you have been through enough as a person and we’ve asked too much of you?”
But even in extreme circumstances, the Corrections Health team continued to provide essential services to adults in custody, many who are people of color from vulnerable communities.
Corrections Health nurse Roger Croteau says he had no issues focusing on his job or finding motivation to come to work despite the chaos outside of the building. The necessity and oftentimes urgency of the work helped.
“It’s an underserved population. We don’t judge them as to why they’re (in the criminal justice system), we just have to treat them and make them as healthy as possible. A lot of the time, this is their only place to get healthcare, and they’re unwell. By the time they leave here they’re feeling better,” he says.
Takahashi agrees and says her biggest worry during the protests wasn’t about herself, but the safety of her patients in the event of a health emergency.
“You can’t rely on medical transportation when hundreds of people are gathered outside of the building,” she says. “How do you get an ambulance through that?”
Like with Croteau, those external factors also took a necessary backseat as Graham did her duty as a nurse. In a job like Corrections Health, it comes with the territory.
“When it comes to things like inclement weather, there are people who were able to telework before the pandemic, but we have had to go in regardless,” Graham says.
“At the end of the day, people who are incarcerated need the continuation of medical care, or if they don’t have that care in the community they need a new plan implemented so they can have some sort of care while they’re in custody.”