Open Letter: To the Community that Needs it

 On June 28th, 1969, a trans-led riot broke out at the Stonewall Inn between the QTPOC community and the police. This six-day uprising was not instantaneous or planned but a result of the swell of outrage brewing in Black and Brown queer communities from the continuous abuse and violation of them by the police and society. In recent years, activists have used this example of queer resistance in the same ways they do with MLK Jr. No honest critique of the oppression of marginalized communities, but selectively picking and choosing the parts of their truth that align with the narrative they are trying to spin. They put Mother Marsha’s name in their mouths without acknowledging the fact that she died of homicide, and the killer remains unknown. Or that Sylvia Rivera died poor and forgotten. Despite the professed importance of this point in QTPOC history, the lesson is lost. It is easy to point the finger at systems and people in power. Still, all too often, our self-appointed allies and faux saviors are complicit with or actively participate in the harm inflicted on us.

This statement is not “petty” drama but a valid and well-needed critique of a space professing to be anti-fascist. Reducing it to mere pettiness is misleading to anyone looking for solace, which is rare in the conservative atmosphere of Broome County.

Recently, we have brought the danger and harm caused by Megan Carrie to the attention of multiple people, including the disruption of a meeting space where they are once again organizing while actively causing harm, to bring this same harm to light. They are a white queer person who weaponizes Karen-esque tactics (lies, tears, and deflection) to groom and deceive others into empathizing with them, and their behavior has created an unsafe environment for some of our community members. For over a year now, they have been repeatedly trying to contact their ex-partner, a Black queer non-binary organizer, who has made it abundantly clear to them that they do not wish to have any contact with Megan. When an attempt was made to hold Megan accountable, Megan acted explosively, deflected from the conversation, and tried to manipulate the person who confronted them. The organizers of Pride of Binghamton came together and decided that because of Megan’s actions, they were not a safe person to be in the community with. As such, they were removed from Pride of Binghamton and uninvited to our 2023 Pride event. We then shifted our energy into protecting Black queer people, which Megan Carrie claims were attempts to “cancel” them. They continued to weaponize their whiteness, claiming that they were being “villainized” and felt “physically unsafe” attending community events since being confronted and removed from our space.

These claims, as well as the narrative that the Black queer and other organizers were threatening, were co-signed by other members of that meeting space. This story may seem unbelievable. So is the video of the white woman who called the police on a Black birdwatcher for asking her to leash her dog and stated to the police that she was “being attacked.” Too often, Black queer experiences are swept under the rug as either trivial or ludicrous. There is a well-documented and clear pattern to Megans’ behavior, both in their harassment and stalking of a community member, as well as their reactions to calls for accountability. These patterns have been made clear to many parties while seeking an end to the abuse, including local organizer Masai Andrews.

Masai Andrews; pseudonyms (that we know of) include Roderick Struglass, Roderick Douglass, Rod Erick, Red Hampton, 100 Black Men of Broome County, and 1000 Black Men of Broome County. To start, he is not the all-knowing community leader he proclaims to be. He uses his social media popularity to create hypocritical narratives in the form of subs that manipulate people’s perspectives without them knowing who the posts target or the agenda behind them. Many of his posts are inaccurate, yet hundreds of people flock to his page daily to show their unwavering support through likes and comments, with no critical analysis of his words. These subs are also used to encourage a culture of fear that expressing harm caused to local organizers or challenging him will cause them to be isolated from the community they love and rely on. We, however, are Black queers, and fear of Black straight men has been a lifelong experience.

Repeatedly, Black women and queer people have tried to tell the local organizing community about Masai’s harmful and toxic behaviors.

Frequently, the response has been that Masai cannot be removed from the community because of all the excellent work he has done and that the accusations of harm against him are just “petty women’s drama.” All too often, we are made into this caricature of a “scorned woman” when confronting men about the harm they’ve caused. This is not only a blatant lie, but it fosters a culture of respectability politics where victims of his abusive tactics must be “perfect victims” to be taken seriously. This rhetoric is dismissive and dehumanizing and creates a hierarchy of harm based on who is seen as more “valuable” and what harms are perceived as “real” and “not real” (re: worthy of addressing or will be ignored). Lastly, it is an extension of rape culture and misogyny. Men are allowed to get away with the mistreatment and devaluation of their partners without any real consequences of their actions. Often it is summed up as “fuckboy” behavior and then dismissed, while the women are left feeling alone, unsupported, and helpless. Even further, it permeates into the spaces and communities they join or force their way into.

These are the same tactics of patriarchal white supremacy used to demean and disparage Trans and Queer people of color who speak out against the institutions of oppression that we are forced to live under and participate in. We are expected to take on the violence of the state, the violence from cishet people of color, and the violence from white queers silently and submissively. We are NOT respectable; we know that the only people who will protect us are us. Mother Marsha swore, used violence in her praxis, and was a sex worker with a rap sheet miles long. Do those things erase the legitimacy of her pain?

These weapons and our experiences are wielded against us to delegitimize our concerns regarding the unjust and harmful behavior incubated in a space whose only known descriptor is “Antifa.” To say that Black Queer people are the ones weaponizing our marginalizations and not that a Black cishet man is leveraging his privilege and social capital is laughable and demonstrates a lack of proper understanding of positionality, inherent power dynamics, and relationality.

This label of anti-fascism contradicts the fundamental belief of informed consent, luring in a community of people unaware of the full range of consequences for various actions and events being organized. Informed consent means nothing if not respect for the autonomy and dignity of the folks in our community. Simply saying that people “understand the risks” is not informed consent but a mechanism to avoid actual accountability. In addition, using shame, pressure, coercion, or the presence of unequal power dynamics as tools of manipulation directly inhibits the ability of enthusiastic consent. Do you understand the whole nature of your consent before you give it? If not, it is not informed consent, and stating “you know the risks” is gaslighting. And it’s especially not consensual when people are afraid to speak up about their concerns.

In addition to these attacks. The mental health of predominantly cisheteronormative people has been used to dismiss the very real harm that has been inflicted on us. To cite and center the mental health of white folks and use them as a justification for continued attacks on us is not only to ignore all statistical evidence of the inherent mental health struggles faced by Black and Indigenous trans and queer people but serves to erase the often horrific experiences for simply existing. What do you know about feeling “physically unsafe” from a Black queer perspective? To center trauma-informed care and transformative justice while expecting victims to be able to hand over all receipts of harm or itemize experiences in detail as proof of injury is utterly hypocritical.

The same people who critique our methods will accept that this man didn’t know how bad it was and still is. It was explained several times clearly. Now that he’s being called out, the narrative has shifted to “these are issues that should be addressed quickly and candidly.” The truth is the nature of Megan Carrie’s harm has been outlined to him several times calmly and clearly. On several occasions, Masai reiterated that he wished Megan Carrie would take accountability because of the assets they could provide him. The truth isn’t that he didn’t know how serious this issue was; the truth is that he cared more about what he could extract from a white ally with disposable time and income. And when Black queer people decided to stop working with him, he allowed this person back into his space and enabled their blatant racism. But this isn’t the first time Black queer experiences are routinely ignored under his watch.

It seems Masai will critique every organizing space in Binghamton, but he won’t engage in conversation critiquing his own. We do not expect genuine accountability from Masai Andrews. We are not in community with him. Those who stand beside him and call him their community are responsible for holding him accountable and creating a safe environment for themselves. We are no longer accepting neutrality. As Gloria E. Anzaldúa and Cherríe Moraga say in ‘The Bridge Called My Back,’ “complacency is scarier than outrage.” If you genuinely are anti-fascist, then the nuances and education surrounding Black queer issues will constantly be a part of the conversation. One that is not begrudgingly accepted and treated like an obligation or an afterthought but is sought out purposefully.

We hear the same shallow excuses from our peers that we heard last time Black women and queers spoke out against this man. Every time, we are labeled scary, petty, and lazy. Never outraged, empowered, and under-resourced.

The words presented as solidarity are words not put into action. The lip service of activist spaces only serves to gaslight us and dismiss the true nature of homophobia and transphobia that exists in his spaces. Love is a verb. Do y’all love us? Do y’all know what kind of love we need?

When straight people are inclined to “protect Black men” or state that they “love Black men,” who are they referring to? Does your definition of Black men include Black gay and trans men? If it does not, then we have a fundamental problem.

When you say “protect Black women,” what women come to mind? What women don’t? What women are an afterthought?

To be anti-racist is to be pro-trans. Periodt. They are inextricably linked. To state that a space is anti-capitalist, anti-fascist, and anti-racist but not approach these things through an explicitly Black, Indigenous, Queer, and Trans framework is blatant hypocrisy. It is the exact formula for how to reproduce these same institutions of oppression in so-called “radical” spaces.

If WE doesn’t include US, then #WhoKeepsUsSafe ?

Do y’all think we don’t do shit? Have you critically analyzed why we cannot be as active as other organizing groups? To be under the constant unbearable weight of simply being Black, Trans, Queer, disabled, and/or poor in this wretched country. Could we perhaps have our fingers on the pulse of communities that continue to be under-prioritized and undervalued by cisheteronormative-led organizations and coalitions? In a town of 50,000 people, how can you believe that you’re the only one supporting the most marginalized in a tangible way? The absolute offensiveness of that narrative is enough to outrage us, and it has.

Our community has always been at the forefront of culture, political struggle, and sexual liberation. “The Color Purple,” Rock and Roll, The March on Washington, “Notes of a Native Son,” Vogue, house music, “Pleasure Activism,” Stonewall, Assata’s escape, contour, prisoner’s rights, and the list continues. Locally, we have, over just the past three years, created numerous opportunities for education, growth, and events, including Pride, the most radical queer joy event in upstate NY, for FREE. We are tired of helping to plant the seeds, harvest the fruit, and cook the meals, only to be left with the crumbs after everybody else has eaten.

At what point does rage become appropriate? To build off a quote by Black lesbian activist Angela Davis, “that’s why when someone asks me about violence, I just find it incredible. Because what it means is that the person who’s asking that question has absolutely no idea what Black [queer] people have gone through. What Black [queer] people have experienced in this country since the time the first Black person was kidnapped from the shores of Africa.” To spend each day facing the gruelly truth of the Black queer experience under the cult of capitalism is to be outraged.

To protect Black lives means ALL BLACK LIVES MATTER.

We are no longer accepting excuses. We are no longer prioritizing those who do not prioritize us. We have attempted repeatedly to address issues quietly, privately, and respectfully. We have tried requests. We have tried boundaries. Those tactics are ineffective.

What we are creating is sacred, and we will protect it at all costs. We are setting strict boundaries with Masai Andrews to maintain our safety. Anyone who wants to work with us will have to respect this boundary:

We will no longer work with Masai Andrews, not because of petty drama but because we are not safe in any spaces where he holds a leadership position. We will no longer be treated like an afterthought or a burden. If you feel that way, then leave us alone. To reframe our boundaries as “throwing him away” is to throw us away. Given the context, if this boundary is violated, we reserve the right to do whatever we need to keep each other safe.

For anyone who feels obligated to “save” this man and ignore the seven years of blatant refusal to be accountable to anyone, including himself, we leave you with this: What exactly are you afraid cannot happen without him? And if he remains in these spaces, would restructuring the power dynamics to make your spaces safer mean the end of your organization? Were you upset when his harm toward Black women in the past destroyed other Black radical spaces? Are you aware of how the people involved in those spaces had to start over after all their hard work and sacrifice? Please remember that for many things he is given credit for, there is a long list of people behind the labor of those credentials (usually Black women and other marginalized people).

There are far too many examples of harm; frankly, we do not owe it to anyone to PROVE the legitimacy of our experiences. Those who want the truth seek it out. Please respect our boundaries as we try to build a solid foundation and infrastructure for ourselves. Our vision is a space where our innovation, ideas, knowledge, and capabilities are valued, and we are free to create without the weightof a cis-heteropatriarchal anchor.

“Your silence will not protect you. If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive. I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own.”

“I cannot hide my anger to spare you guilt, nor hurt feelings, nor answering anger; for to do so insults and trivializes all our efforts.”

“Yet all too often, guilt is just another name for impotence, for defensiveness destructive of communication; it becomes a device to protect ignorance and the continuation of things the way they are, the ultimate protection for changelessness.”

“There are so many ways in which I’m vulnerable… I’m not going to be more

vulnerable by putting weapons of silence in my enemies’ hands.”

-Audre Lorde