Speaking on a panel about prison abolition, revolutionary and author Angela Davis said, “I don’t think we would be where we are today, encouraging ever-larger numbers of people to think within an abolitionist frame, had not the trans community taught us that it is possible to effectively challenge that which is considered the very foundation of our sense of normalcy. So if it is possible to challenge the gender binary, then we can certainly effectively resist prisons and jails and police.” In doing so, Davis emphasized the ever-so-present overlap of queer liberation movements and their fight for not only prison reform but prison abolition.
Looking back on the history of queer liberation, the Stonewall riot of 1969 against rampant homophobia wasn’t just about a proud proclamation of being queer but also a desperate act of rebellion against state violence and state-sanctioned homophobia. And it was led by a Black trans woman. The Compton Cafeteria riot of 1966—which goes widely undiscussed and ignored in mainstream media—was started by a group of trans women in San Francisco in an all-night restaurant. After the police had continuously harassed and abused the trans community, one of the women threw a cup of coffee, and a riot started thereafter. In both acts of rebellion, queer people had become fed-up. Fed-up with the normalization of homophobia, with the way trans women were constantly being arrested for all kinds of crimes—constantly being harassed, especially if they were women of color, by the police.
Participants in these bold resistance acts were most often those who were targeted by police too. They were living on the streets, they were queer people of color, they were sex workers, and a majority of them were transgender. They were people who were never protected by the police—rather targeted by them. And because of this police violence, queer liberation has also focused on police reform and prison abolition.
From printing “What to Do in Case of Arrest'' cards in the 1950s in L.A. to marching in front of the New York City’s Women House of Detention in the 1970s to shout “Free our sisters! Free Ourselves!” to protest the incarceration of Black Panther members, queer liberation activists have always had a core focus on the analysis of how oppressive the police and prison systems are. Also, the mid-1970s was the start of many queer and antiracist groups such as the Combahee River Collection and the Black and White Gay Men Together. These groups focused on police violence against all marginalized identities, and they specifically highlighted the violence against queer people of color. This violence includes the staggering fact that nearly one in two Black transgender people has been to prison (Lamba Legal), and 58% of transgender people who interacted with the police in 2014-2015 experienced some form of mistreatment (2015 U.S. Transgender Survey) from verbal harassment to having to engage in forceful sexual activities to avoid getting arrested.
Queer people have fought to reimagine what society views as normal; they have fought for their love and sexuality to be seen as equal within an imprisoning heteronormative hegemonic discourse. And they know what it means to have their bodies policed. Therefore, they know what it means to fight against the norm, which is mass incarceration in this instance. As they fight for the liberation of queer people, they are also fighting to end the prison industrial complex that plagues their communities and specifically targets queer people of color. The liberation of queer people inherently means the end of the prison industrial complex.
This sentiment of liberation is what the prison abolition organization Black and Pink focuses on. In their own words, they focus on “abolishing the criminal punishment system and liberating LGBTQIA2S+ people and people living with HIV/AIDS who are affected by that system through advocacy, support, and organizing.” Founded in 2005, this organization currently has eleven chapters across the country that aim to support queer incarcerated people and promote awareness of harrowing statistics such as the fact that 85% of all LGBTQ+ youth in juvenile incarceration facilities are BIPOC. In fact, Black and Pink published a report on their national LGBTQ prisoner survey called Coming out of Concrete Closets—such information published includes demographics, solitary confinement, healthcare for AIDS in prisons, and more. This detailed report from 1,118 imprisoned people is a part of their advocacy initiative, calling attention to the “high levels of policing and criminalization” LGBTQ+ people face that lead not only to their arrest but also violence within prisons. Essentially, this published study aims to “alleviate the immediate suffering of prisoners and bring an end to the prison industrial complex while centering the needs of LGBTQ prisoners.”
The interconnected history of queer liberation and prison reform and abolition is the basis of Black and Pink’s work; thus, alongside awareness and conducting their own surveys, they are advocating and fundraising for a community space in Omaha, Nebraska for system-impacted queer people to live in and get services in such as mental health support, meals, and community programs to end the cycle of incarceration for queer people—especially people of color—and to provide a reprieve from police violence. This space is called the Opportunity Campus, fittingly named as it aims to give the opportunity for health, safety, and healing to its inhabitants. A way that Black and Pink allows for community help is by volunteering as an Opportunity Campus ambassador; to raise the $300,000, Black and Pink is looking for people willing to spread the word and engage in peer-to-peer fundraising in their communities.
Altogether, Black and Pink is doing what movements in the 60s and 70s called for: protecting queer people of color—and queer people as a whole—from state violence. Looking back at the history of queer liberation, police violence has undeniably defined the way in which queer communities have rebelled, and most often these movements were led by the most at-risk identities. In order to achieve liberation for all queer people, the prison industrial complex must be overhauled, and Black and Pink is fighting to do exactly that.
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