Originally posted by the Voice of America. Voice of America content is produced by the Voice of America, a United States federal government-sponsored entity, and is in the public domain. Two Faces From Portland's Multifaceted Resistance by Ramon Taylor PORTLAND, OREGON -- Early in June, the stage for Portland, Oregon's rival fringes was set. Nine days after the deadly double stabbing by a suspected white supremacist on a commuter train, a pro-Trump "free speech" rally went on as planned in the fractured city, face to face and heavily outnumbered by left-wing protesters. Among the thousands peacefully gathered, agitated men in masks and helmets stood ready on both sides for a beatdown. Armed police forces held steady for hours. But as the free-speechers wound down, the authorities squeezed counter protesters that had gathered en masse in Chapman Square deeper and deeper. Flash grenades erupted and tear gas filled the square. Portland native Gregory McKelvey got caught up. He ran, blinded, before someone placed him on the ground and poured solution in his eyes. Others, including his girlfriend, Kathryn Stevens, had moved north, outside the park, where she and others were detained, photographed, and ID'd in a police kettle. For the two millennial left-wing activists, McKelvey, 23, and Stevens, 24, the scene of peaceful protests-gone-wrong was nothing new. In Portland, a city where political fringes have become synonymous with violence, the duo defends the core principles of "antifas" (anti-fascists), while condemning "destruction for the sake of destruction." As the face of PDX Resistance -- a leading opposition movement to President Donald Trump -- McKelvey and Stevens must engage in a constant balancing act with others who share their opposition to the president and the rise of white nationalism, but who approach the situation in more rogue, sometimes violent, fashion. It isn't easy. Too radical, not radical enough Seated beside each other in their Lake Oswego home, a green-wooded city south of Portland, McKelvey and Stevens showcase a full lineup of flavored Ciroc vodka bottles, harkening back to the more whimsical times of McKelvey's college days. A stark contrast from the doormat that sits outside the house with a warning to the rest of the world: "Come back with a warrant." The duo's brand of activism comes with a list of policy priorities, including an end to broken windows policing, strengthening sanctuary status, and abolishing the Portland Police Bureau's controversial gang list -- a database that notably did not include Jeremy Christian, the man facing 15 charges in the commuter train stabbings. With that platform comes great responsibility and death threats, according to McKelvey. Just eight months into the movement, he says PDX Resistance is targeted from all sides. "From the right wing, to the super radical who thinks I'm not radical enough, to neoliberals who think I am too radical," said McKelvey, the son of a white defense attorney mother and black musician father, a Republican, goes down the list, "it doesn't faze me at all." But at least initially, it did faze his girlfriend. 'White savior' complex Stevens, who is white, comes from Vernonia, Oregon, population 2,157, which she seems eager to put behind her. The residents of the Northwest timber-industry town, including her father, she says, are "really conservative." "When [former President Barack] Obama first ran, my father was furious and said that this man was only in the race because of affirmative action, and affirmative action was destroying our country," she said. "These are things that people really, really believed where I came from, and they felt wrong." When she moved to Portland, Stevens -- once homeless as a teenager, and now a leading voice for Portland's affordable housing crisis -- was charmed by the city's progressive appearance. But as she became more entrenched in protest culture, including the Black Lives Matters movement, her opinion shifted. "You realize that it is all a facade, that everybody is just patting themselves on the back, and loves being the poster child of diversity," she said. "People just get lost in that, and they leave so many people behind." She and McKelvey have been a couple for a year, and even that seems like a political statement sometimes. Stevens recalls an older couple sitting in the booth beside them at a restaurant; the man, she said, gave them "a horrible look." "He looked at Greg and then he looked at me, and he was just disgusted," she said. "I was livid '¦ I wanted to say something, and [Gregory] was just like, 'Don't make a big deal out of it. Don't do anything.'" Watch: Portland Activists Gregory McKelvey and Kathryn Stevens After the incident, which McKelvey doesn't remember, Stevens says she learned a lesson about herself and the "white savior complex," actions that intend to help people of color, but are instead problematic; even detrimental. "I have to take a step back and really check myself and to check my reactions, and defer to him," she says, turning to her boyfriend, "because you're the person that's going to get hurt if things get escalated." On the shoulders of giants As the couple retells their story, McKelvey is quick to break a tense moment with a joke; he has perfected the deadpan, while Stevens typically breaks into wild laughter. But in public, the two don't shy away from controversy or negative press. Shortly after Trump was elected in November, PDX Resistance-led demonstrations became infiltrated by outside rioters, resulting in more than $1 million in post-election riot damage. McKelvey condemned the violence and formed a fundraiser to help pay for repairs. Later that month, he and Stevens were arrested on alleged disorderly conduct. But they pride themselves on being a part of their city's protest culture -- sometimes known as "Little Beirut." "People are waking up," Stevens said. "We're standing on the shoulders of the people that have come before us, and made protesting such an important part of Portland culture," McKelvey added. Watch: What Does It Mean to be a Portlander?