Review of Gore, Dayo Folayan, Tamara Jones, and Joo-Hyun Kang. 2001. “Organizing at the
Intersections: A Roundtable Discussion of Police Brutality through the Lens of Race, Class, and Sexual Identities.” Pp. 251-269 in Zero Tolerance: Quality of Life and the New Police Brutality in New York City, edited by Andrea McArdle and Tanya Erzen. New York City: New York University.
Much of the research and analysis on police violence focuses on the ways in which people of color (especially African Americans, and, increasingly Latinos) and poor folks are disproportionately brutalized by the police. In this roundtable discussion, members of the Audre Lorde Project’s Working Group on Police Brutality (Dayo Gore and Tamara Jones) and executive director Joo-Hyun Kang discuss the many ways that police brutality intersects not only with race and class, but also gender and sexuality. The Audre Lorde Project (ALP) is a center for lesbian, gay, bisexual, two-spirit, and transgender (LGBTST) people of color organizing for social and economic justice. They are based in New York City and their organizing is mainly focused in NYC.
At the onset the group broadened the definition of police brutality beyond physical attacks and murder to include more subtle forms of violence. Examples given were police not taking crimes against community members seriously and not properly investigating reports; verbal harassment and attacks by the police; police making illegal stops, searches, and seizures; and the community’s exposure to near-constant surveillance. Kang points out that this pervasive violence is built into some of the standard operating procedures of police work (e.g., NYPD officers can wait up to 48-hours to obtain legal counsel and be questioned about the shooting incidents, which can be used to cover up evidence and allows time for the police to “get their stories straight”). That these more subtle forms of violence are so ubiquitous makes it challenging to organize against them because they become normalized and, for some, there’s a perception that this (especially the surveillance) is a small price to pay for the safety of the community. (This “small price to pay” argument came up in recent meeting with organizers at LA CAN; one of the co-directors was saying that outside the community people get up in arms about the surveillance but, inside, downtown’s new residents have accepted that it’s a small price to pay for their safety and that once they get rid of the undesirables, they’ll be able to get rid of the surveillance.)
Another challenge for people uncovering and resisting police violence is to organize build coalitions across race, class, gender, and sexuality lines: “As activists against police violence we need to be aware of the ways in which oppression can work both against us and against others who may not be exactly like us. If straight activists never integrate gender and sexuality into their analyses and action programs, then they are supporting and strengthening police abuse of power against women and LGBTST peoples. The same logic holds for white LGBTST activists on this issue; without a solid anti-racist stance, you’re not being effective. It’s like fighting a Hydra—you need to chop off all the heads to kill it” (Jones, 261). Members of ALP point out that while analysts of police violence often talk about the ways that people of color and poor people are over-policed, it’s harder for most people to recognize that people who do not conform to gender stereotypes or who are perceived as nonheterosexual are subject to greater police surveillance and violence.
Not recognizing or organizing around gender and sexuality biases in policing reinforces the susceptibility of people who do not conform to normative conceptions of gender and sexuality to police violence. With their discussion of Abner Louima—a Haitian man who was severely brutalized and sodomized at the hands of NYPD officers, ALP members talk about how media constantly underscored that he was not gay, as he was perceived to be by police, and that he was a legal immigrant. Both of these things, his sexuality and his status as a legal immigrant were used in establishing him as a “good victim,” someone people could and should rally behind. Though this issue of immigration status is not discussed in much detail in the roundtable or in most other non-immigration-specific accounts of police violence, it is another layer in police violence. Joo-Hyun points out, “The question was never raised, but what if he had been gay? Had he been gay, or transgender, it’s hard to imagine that degree of public outrage even if it had been the exact same incident.” Similarly, one could add “undocumented” or “illegal” to Joo-Hyun’s point. As an “illegal” immigrant, Louima would not have been a “good victim” either.
Another key point made in the roundtable is the tendency for women to underreport violence they experience, whether it be police violence or otherwise. Joo-Hyun expressed skepticism about media coverage and research that suggests that men are more likely to be victims of police violence than women. She says, “I guess having grown up as a woman in this society, we often know that our histories are so hidden that it leads me to question whether we can believe current statistics and conventional wisdom” (263). Joo-Hyun went on to say that women of color experience so many incidents of racist, sexist, and homophobic violence each day, that a verbal attack from a cop may just get lumped in with the rest. “If we reported all the acts of violence against us as women, every day, some of us would be reporting twenty-five incidents a week” (264).










