Bev Grant's Radical Archive
May 19, 2021
5 minutes
Text and photography: Bev Grant
THROUGHOUT MY CHILDHOOD, there was always a bit of an edge regarding how we were going to get by. I was raised Jewish in Portland, Oregon, and we were considered the black sheep of my dad’s family because my mom was not. At school, I became conscious of the class difference between me and other kids – mostly in terms of the clothing I could afford.
My dad gave me a guitar when I was 10 years old and I started taking lessons along with my two older sisters. He became our manager, and we performed around town as The Miller Sisters until I started high school. It was there I got a boyfriend, who was a jazz musician. We performed in shows together, but I began feeling
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