Holding Space for Niani: Killer Cops, Domestic Violence and the War on Black Women

 

 

Niani Finlayson

By Sikivu Hutchinson

On December 4th, twenty seven year-old Niani Finlayson, a mother of two young daughters, was shot and killed by L.A. County Sheriff’s (LASD) deputy Ty Shelton in Lancaster, California. Finlayson had called 911 after she was injured by her boyfriend during a domestic violence dispute. It is also alleged that Finlayson was trying to defend one of her daughters against abuse by this individual. The LASD claims that Finlayson was wielding a knife and threatening to stab her boyfriend when police arrived at the scene. Commenting in a multimillion dollar lawsuit filed against L.A. County, Finlayson’s lawyer stated that, she “was not threatening anyone when deputies shot her in the back from behind a glass door”. Body camera footage released this week shows that Shelton shot Finlayson only three seconds after he arrived. Finlayson’s 9 year-old witnessed her mother’s murder.

As Black women domestic and intimate partner violence survivors, we know all too well that this unspeakable tragedy could have happened to any one of us. Nationwide, Black women have disproportionately high rates of domestic violence victimization and are more likely to be killed by a partner, relative or friend than are non-Black women. In the U.S., Black women are also 2.5 times more likely to be killed by a partner, ex-partner, relative or friend than are non-Black women. In the City of Los Angeles, Black women comprise 25%-33% of all domestic and sexual violence victims, though we are only 4% of the population. These experiences make Black women and girls more vulnerable not only to assault and community violence, but also to victim-blaming, criminalization, abuse, and murder by police when they seek assistance from law enforcement. Black women are 1.4 times more likely to be killed by police than are white women. Black women domestic violence victims are more likely to be arrested when they contact law enforcement for help in a domestic violence dispute. Known as “dual arrests”, this travesty involves the concurrent arrest of the assailant and the victim in a domestic violence dispute. Racist/sexist stereotypes that criminalize Black women and girls as violent, out of control, and culpable for their own victimization, drive this disparity.

#Standing4BlackGirls Women’s Leadership Project Black women’s survivors’ speak out for Niani Finlayson @ L.A. County Sheriff’s Dept. on December 27th

Finlayson’s senseless killing underscores why deploying violence disruptors and mental health intervention specialists who are not law enforcement is critical. In 2020, Shelton shot and killed sixty one year-old Michael Thomas in another domestic violence dispute. Shelton was not prosecuted for the killing and the officers involved in the call had not been assigned body cameras. Shelton’s continued presence on the force belies recently elected Sheriff Robert Luna’s claim that he is committed to purging “bad apples” in a department rife with killer cops and serial abusers.

In condemning this unconscionable atrocity, and expressing our condolences to Niani Finlayson’s family, we are calling on Sheriff Luna to fire Ty Shelton and deploy trained first responder violence disruptors and crisis intervention specialists during domestic violence calls, rather than armed deputies. We are also calling for the immediate prosecution of Shelton by District Attorney George Gascon. 

Finlayson’s experiences, like those of other Black women domestic violence victims, also underscore the urgent need for prevention education and resources in L.A. County and city schools for all genders. Domestic and intimate partner violence prevention is only superficially discussed in middle school and high school health curricula. When domestic violence is discussed, the coverage is piecemeal and not culturally responsive to the lived experiences of Black women and girls. When the Women’s Leadership Project conducts Black feminist violence prevention education outreach in high schools, we constantly hear from Black girls who have been groomed, abused, and victimized on social media and in real time. Nationwide, Black girls across sexuality have few safe spaces to seek refuge in when they are at risk of abuse or have experienced abuse. For many Black women and women of color, early experiences with abuse are a leading predictor of later in life abuse.

L.A. County spends billions on police and prisons, yet continues to underfund restorative justice and healing justice alternatives. The County’s pledge to a “Care First” budget has yet to reap structural gains or benefits for Black L.A. youth. And the underfunding of community youth spaces only compounds the record levels of depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide that Black girls, queer and gender expansive youth are experiencing.

Niani Finlayson’s murder tragically exposes the way the intersection of police state terrorism and gaps in social welfare protections imperil Black women, Black families, and communities. Finlayson’s mom Tracie Harris stated that she was pursuing her dreams to become a nurse and create a children’s app.

You can support her family and young daughters by contributing to their GoFundMe. You can also demand the firing and prosecution of Ty Shelton by contacting Sheriff Robert Luna and District Attorney George Gascon.

The #Standing4BlackGirls coalition and Women’s Leadership Project provide mental health resources, youth leadership development, and advocacy for Black girls and BIPOC queer youth in Los Angeles.

Black Voters' Dangerous Dance with Trump 2.0

 

By Sikivu Hutchinson

Word to Black voters seduced by Trump — he thinks you come from sh — thole nations, is itching to deport you, and believes Black men are wild criminals who deserve the death penalty. This past weekend during a campaign appearance, Trump proclaimed that immigrants, specifically from Africa, Asia, and Latin America, are “poisoning the blood of our country”. Unfortunately, these tip of the iceberg atrocities might not sway some gullible Negroes. If early swing state polls are to be believed, the nation is hurtling full speed ahead toward a second Trump administration and Black voters are playing a key role. According to the New York Times, after surveying 2500 voters, “A Democratic advisory group…found that voters in the Democratic base of ‘Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, LGBTQ+ community, Gen Z, millennials, unmarried and college women give Trump higher approval ratings than Biden.’” Further, “Black voters are more disconnected from the Democratic Party than they have been in decades, frustrated with what many see as inaction on their political priorities and unhappy with President Biden, a candidate they helped lift to the White House just three years ago.” Most alarmingly, “22 percent of Black voters in six of the most important battleground states said they would support former President Donald J. Trump in next year’s election…(while) 71 percent would back Mr. Biden.”

Even taking into consideration the notorious unreliability of early polls, these numbers are jaw dropping, terrifying, and enraging. Trump’s swaggering anti-Blackness, white supremacist outbursts, and fascist policies on everything from racial justice, policing, abortion rights, climate change, job creation, public education, student loan forgiveness, and anti-poverty programs would obliterate any modicum of socioeconomic gains that African Americans and people of color have achieved. Case in point, Black poverty rates are at approximately 22% in the U.S. The 2021 Child Tax Credit, which was implemented under the Biden administration’s American Rescue Plan, cut poverty to 5.2%. Nonetheless, the GOP and right wing Democrat Joe Manchin voted against renewing it, and the poverty rate shot up again in 2022. According to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities: “The poverty rate for children more than doubled from a historic low of 5.2 percent in 2021 to 12.4 percent in 2022, erasing all of the record gains made against child poverty over the previous two years. Progress made in 2021 in narrowing the glaring differences between the poverty rates of Black and Latino children compared to white children was largely reversed.” Earlier this year, unemployment rates among Black workers fell to historic lows, narrowing the racial gap between white and Black workers to 1.8% (Black unemployment rates have since risen again).

This is not to cosign Biden, nor to excuse the rank imperialism, militarism, and neoliberalism of his administration. The Biden administration’s bankrolling of Israel’s genocidal assault on Gaza and the Palestinians is an odious human rights violation which has further eroded progressive Democratic support. On the domestic front, faced with rising consumer prices, mounting debt, erosion of Black generational wealth, and skyrocketing rates of Black homelessness, many African American voters are disgruntled with the administration’s piecemeal efforts to reddress these disparities. But Biden has shown no willingness to step down to make way for a younger successor. And the likelihood that a viable one could be drafted at this stage in the game is slim to none.

The reality is, a second Trump administration would be apocalyptic for Black folks and people of color. Trump has already promised to reinstate his 2017 Muslim ban executive order, institute mandatory deportations, repeal the 14th amendment guaranteeing birthright citizenship (which was instituted to confer citizenship on enslaved African Americans), and permanently hijack the Supreme Court and lower federal courts by packing them with Christian fascist Clarence Thomas and Amy Coney Barrett clones who will torch the last remnants of constitutional protections for vulnerable communities.

In addition, last week, one of Trump’s lackeys announced that Trump 2.0 would launch a no holds barred Justice Department assault on members of the press who “helped Biden rig the election”. Trump’s threats underscore how Tea Party era anti-immigrant fear-mongering and white nationalism have come full circle in a nation where his supporters gleefully lap up his lies, villainy, and corruption and beg for more. In this please-pee-on-us-and-call-it-rain scenario, Trump, as he predicted years ago, has become impervious to legal challenges, impeachments, indictments or public shaming. At this historical juncture, the sad, insane but naked truth is that (barring a viable alternative) Biden’s reelection is the only thing that stands between democratic civil liberties and civil rights and a complete descent into fascist rule.

Yet, the seeds of Biden’s slide with African Americans are also exemplified by the moral conservatism of some Black voters. Black viewpoints on LGBTQ+ rights are one bellwether. A Black woman voter who was polled in the Times survey stated that, “Biden has not followed through on his campaign promises on immigration (and she) worries that Democrats have gone too far in their embrace of L.G.B.T.Q. issues (while) faulting them for books used in public education that she believes are too sexually explicit.” Similarly, in a recent L.A. Times article, columnist Mike Madrid frames the erosion of Democratic support among Latino voters along demographic and ideological lines. As immigration from Spanish-speaking countries declines, native born Latino constituents are less likely to identify with the liberal-centrist issues that define the Democratic Party’s base. According to Madrid, this demographic has moved “away from the aggrieved immigrant narrative favored by Democrats and toward an assimilating, working-class identity that mirrors its non-Latino counterparts.” Madrid’s supposition that Latinos are rejecting the Democrats’ “grievance-based” politics downplays the continued relevance of social and economic justice in a nation in which approximately 17% of Latinos are at the poverty line and face significant institutional racism and discrimination in every sector. And, while Latinos are more likely to share the religious conservatism of white evangelicals, they are also able to claim white identity on legal forms — a privilege that Black folks don’t have.

Indeed, Black folks’ drift to Trump is downright suicidal, given the high stakes. What, exactly, do Black Trumpites see him delivering to Black communities, other than trickle down Reaganomics on steroids, the complete destruction of anything resembling equity in the public sphere, and the gutting of social welfare, health care, infrastructure, and educational policies that have historically provided redress to communities of color? An old Twilight Zone episode chillingly illustrates Black fascination with Trump. In the episode, the devil, disguised as an innocuous looking everyman, is locked up in a monastery. Despite the warnings of the monks, a visiting traveler releases him after he sweet talks the man into believing he’s been unjustly imprisoned. Mayhem ensues, and the visitor, mired in regret, spends his entire life trying to hunt down and trap Satan for good. This is a piker’s analogy for what the potential “resurrection” and liberation of Trump, on the watch of a disaffected and amnesiac electorate, would do for the nation and the globe.

Books that Save Lives: The Oasis of Black Queer Young Adult Literature

 

By Sikivu Hutchinson

When I was in elementary and middle school during the seventies and eighties, there was virtually no literature that captured the lived experiences and identities of Black queer children and teens. I was a serious reader, a nonconformist daydreamer, and a fixture at neighborhood libraries where I could load up on everyone from Virginia Hamilton to PT. Travers to Richard Steptoe to Sharon Bell Mathis and Judy Blume. The imagined and imaginary worlds that children’s authors conjured — and the libraries that offered space to read, reflect, and explore these worlds — could be a source of refuge from bullies, violence, and society’s intolerance of “weird” Black girls who defied soul killing gender norms.

In the midst of white supremacist book bans, community and school libraries have become battlegrounds and oases. As backlash against African American studies and LGBTQ+ affirming curricula intensifies, the works of Black queer Young Adult literature authors Kacen Callender, Jacqueline Woodson, and George M. Johnson are lifesaving revelations. Over the past year, LGBTQ+ communities have been bombarded with toxic legislation that prohibits gender affirming care for trans youth, bathroom access for trans students, and acknowledgments of queer families (buttressed by the Supreme Court’s recent ruling that allows businesses to discriminate against LGBTQ+ customers). In the midst of this firestorm, Black queer literary world-building illustrates the transformative power of literature, providing access to imagined spaces which affirm marginalized communities and experiences. Johnson’s 2020 “memoir-manifesto” All Boys Aren’t Blue has been slammed by the Religious Right and placed on numerous banned books lists. Woodson’s 1995 novel The House You Pass on the Way is one of the first to sensitively portray the inner life, family, and friend relationships of a Black lesbian girl. Callender’s trailblazing novels King and the Dragonflies (2020) and Felix Ever After (2021) provide moving portraits of Black queer and Black trans teens and tweens navigating love, grief, heartbreak, identity, and creativity in school communities that range from hostile to supportive.

The twelve year-old protagonist of King and the Dragonflies is confronted with multiple sources of trauma. Throughout the novel, he mourns the death of his older brother with whom he had a deep bond. To cope with his grief, he imagines that his brother is one of the many dragonflies that he sees in the bayous near his home in New Orleans. His grief and uncertainty are compounded by his parents’ inability to deal with their own sense of loss. When a gay acquaintance at his school runs away from home to escape abuse at home, he becomes a secret ally to the young man, gradually realizing that he is queer as well. Callender, who identifies as non-binary, is adept at inhabiting the inner life and mindset of middle school youth questioning their identities amidst the upheaval of puberty. Their characters are achingly realistic, introspective, flawed, and vibrant. In Felix Ever After, Felix is an aspiring teen artist who has recently transitioned. His support system includes several “ride or die” friends who surround him with love. In Callender’s worlds, chosen family take precedence over blood relatives. Relatives are secondary characters who provide a snapshot of the complex spectrum of family acceptance and safe space. Felix and his father navigate a fragile relationship that is exacerbated by his mother’s desertion. Throughout much of the book, Felix’s dad refuses to use his chosen name and pronouns, even though he pays for Felix’s surgeries and tries to make time to check in with his son. Similarly, in a gut-wrenching scene between King and his father, in Dragonflies, King notes: “I’m glad that he loves me no matter what but it still hurts that he has to think about the fact I’m gay — (and) that he can’t accept me for who I am.” For Black queer youth, parental ambivalence can be devastating. It is for this reason that safe spaces at school are paramount. Callender’s portrayals powerfully illustrate the insidious impact anti-blackness, homophobia, transphobia, and gaslighting have on Black queer and gender expansive youth who have few safe spaces. A 2019 survey conducted by the National Black Justice coalition and GLSEN (Gay Lesbian Student Education Network) indicated that Black students who are involved with campus affinity groups (such as BSUs and GSAs) are more likely to stay in school. This is especially critical given the national push in conservative school districts to “out” LGBTQ+ and gender expansive youth to their parents and undermine their relationships with trusted adults on campus.

In his autobiography All Boys Aren’t Blue, George M. Johnson highlights how seeing examples of Black queer life and experience were lifesavers for him. Unlike the protagonists in Callender’s novels, Johnson’s immediate and extended family was unequivocally supportive of his identity and journey. He is especially indebted to his grandmother, who affirmed his right to be different despite the big generation gap that separated them:

“My grandmother had always seen the damage that happens when children who are ‘different’ aren’t nurtured and loved the same way other kids are…I often think about what it would be like if the world existed with a ‘Nanny’ in each family. Why was my Black queer experience one of unconditional love when others have become the standard of hate and familial violence? Family dynamics is a topic that comes up often in LGBTQIAP+ culture. ‘Created family’ is a system in which friends from many walks of life create extremely tight friendship circles in an effort to ensure a familial type of environment for the many who are not accepted at home.”

Johnson’s bookish, introspective “coming of age” self is nurtured by Nanny’s encouragement of his creativity and stylistic nonconformity. In an early scene in which he expresses interest in cowboy boots (much to the bewilderment of some family members), Nanny cosigns his “quirky” choice by buying him a pair. Throughout the book, he credits Nanny with providing him with the social-emotional foundation he needed to withstand and resist homophobia in the Black community and anti-Blackness in white America. In his introduction he notes that, “This book is an exploration of two of my identities — Black and queer — and how I became aware of their intersections within myself and in society. How I’ve learned that neither of those identities can be contained within a simple box…In the white community, I am seen as a Black man first — but that doesn’t negate the queer identity that will still face discrimination. In the Black community…it is the intersection with queerness that is used to reduce my Blackness and the overall image of Black men.”

By the same token, Callender’s Felix Ever After hones in on how these intersectional struggles impact Black trans youth who are often rendered invisible in school curricula and community support systems. As a Black trans boy dealing with his mother’s abandonment and his father’s ambivalence, Felix seeks refuge in close relationships with school peers who also encourage his artistic vision. Callender offers a rare portrait of a trans teen who is on the brink of graduating, going to college, and pursuing his calling as a visual artist. At the beginning of the novel, Felix is victimized by a transphobic troll whose identity is shrouded in mystery until the end of the novel. Felix fights back against the troll’s cyberbullying on Instagram. When the troll asks him why he’s “pretending” to be a boy, he counters, “I’m not pretending to be a boy. Just because you haven’t evolved to realize gender doesn’t equal biology, doesn’t mean you get to say who I am and who I’m not. You don’t have that power. Only I have the power to say who I am.” (125) The deadnaming and misgendering Felix experiences are common forms of trans-antagonistic abuse that silence and victim shame trans and gender expansive youth in schools and on social media. Even though Felix has a loving, devoted best friend named Ezra, he is wracked with doubt about his lovability. In a moving scene with Declan, a school nemesis who he has developed an Instagram crush on, Felix comments that:

It’s like every identity I have…the more different I am from everyone else…the less interested people are. The less lovable I feel, I guess. The love interests in books, or in movies or TV shows, are always white, cis, straight, blond hair, blue eyes. Chris Evans. Jennifer Lawrence. It becomes a little hard to convince myself I deserve the kind of love you see on movie screens. (219)

The isolation that Felix experiences is underscored by escalating attacks on the very existence of trans youth. As with Johnson’s memoir, Callender’s books are lightening rods for fascist backlash. Living in the more “liberal” context of New York, Felix believes that he has been largely insulated from the brunt of national vitriol faced by youth in the Midwest and the South. His acknowledgment of privilege is cautionary for LGBTQ+ communities outside of the Bible Belt. Over the past year, conservative school boards in California (which has some of the strongest pro-LGBTQ+ policies in the nation) have jumped on the homophobic bandwagon, spearheading bans on LGBT affirming curricular materials, sponsoring outing policies, and cosigning the anti-queer propaganda and violence of right wing parent groups.

Johnson was partly inspired to write his memoir by Toni Morrison’s saying that if “there is a book that you want to read and it hasn’t been written yet, you must write it.” Reflecting on being ostracized in elementary school, he writes, “And then there was me. A little queer Black boy still very unsure of who he was. I buried myself in schoolwork and hid behind my books. What I didn’t have in friendships, I could always find in stories.” (132)

Ultimately, the spaces of radical reimagining that YA queer fiction and “memoir manifestoes” open up can be a lifeline and an inspiration for Black queer kids and families. As fascist movements continue to surge, literature is still a powerful antidote, allowing us to “define ourselves for ourselves” (to paraphrase Audre Lorde) in rebuke to the terrorism of an Orwellian age.

Shelter from the Storm: On Epidemic Sadness and Trauma Among Girls and Queer Youth

  #Standing4BlackGirls rally in South L.A. 2022, Photo by Isaac Barrera

By Sikivu Hutchinson

In her book, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, published in 1861, the 19th century abolitionist and author Harriet Jacobs entitles one chapter, “The Trials of Girlhood”. In it, she describes the ritualized sexual violence that enslaved Black girls were subjected to during the antebellum period. Upon turning 15, Jacobs noted that, “No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress — in either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape of men.” For Jacobs, the fact that these atrocities were committed against Black girls under the guise of Christian morality was another brutal contradiction.

Flash forward to the twenty first century, and Jacobs’ experiences with rape culture’s trauma continue to reverberate for Black girls and femmes. According to a new CDC report, “57 percent of girls and 69 percent of gay, lesbian or bisexual teenagers reported feeling sadness every day for at least two weeks during the previous year. And 14 percent of girls, up from 12 percent in 2011, said they had been forced to have sex at some point in their lives, as did 20 percent of gay, lesbian or bisexual adolescents.” Nationwide, Black girls have some of the highest rates of domestic and sexual violence victimization, with nearly 60% experiencing sexual abuse by the time they turn 18.

When I was growing up in the eighties, there was virtually no language to support Black girl survivors like me, much less a national platform or movement. It was “understood” that sexual harassment, sexual violence, and teen dating violence were just part of the “trials” of being young, Black, and female. It was understood that the “trials” of being a Black boy superseded and took precedence over Black girls’ trauma. Black folks did not take to the streets en masse to demand an end to sexual and domestic violence. And, beyond slavery, and misogynist, victim-blaming rap and rock lyrics, there were largely no mainstream portrayals of Black girls’ experiences with sexual violence. Influential texts such as Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings or Ntozake Shange’s For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide when the rainbow was enuf were rarely taught in middle school or high school settings. This erasure was compounded by the fact that white women sexual violence victims were almost always the lead protagonists in soap opera dramas and infamous “after school specials” that once dominated network TV.

In the 8th grade, I read Alice Walker’s The Color Purple and was riveted by the narrator Celie’s voice. Her poignant questioning and unapologetic affirmation of her own truth amidst the pain of rape, abuse, and abandonment powerfully illustrated how writing could provide healing space. Decades later, I was well into my thirties when I read Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. Morrison’s searing indictment of sexual violence, colorism, internalized racism, and segregation is as potent today as it was during the seventies when it was published. As seen through the eyes of middle school Black girls, the story of The Bluest Eye is at once tragic and triumphant. Triumphant because it hints at the complexities of Black female agency in the midst of generational trauma. The only difference between the girlhood trials of Morrison’s protagonist Pecola Breedlove and those of contemporary Black girls is the Internet. If Pecola “existed” today, she’d be cyberbullied into silence, gaslighted about her trauma, branded as a race traitor, and told to pray it away.

According to the CDC’s Kathleen Ethier, “Of every 10 teen girls that you know, at least one of them — possibly more — have been raped…And so, not surprisingly, we’re also seeing that almost 60% of teen girls had depressive symptoms in the past year.” The report confirms that these levels are the highest reported in a decade. Moreover, “1 in 3 girls had seriously considered attempting suicide, which is up by 60% over the last decade. (And among) teens who identify as LGBTQ+ more than half reported experiencing poor mental health…(while) 1 in 5 had actually attempted suicide in the past year.” From 2003–2019, suicide among Black girls increased by 59%. The biggest increase occurred among 12–14-year-old girls.

The report was based on the Youth Risk Behavior Survey , which was given to 17,000 teens in the fall of 2021. Nationwide, girls across ethnicity are experiencing record levels of violence, much of which is normalized as a kind of rite of passage and exceeds what males are experiencing. This casual, routinized violence silences scores of Black girls, young women, and queer folks. As one of my 10th grade students put it, the violence that girls experience is so normalized that many don’t even know how to classify it. Being called out of one’s name or being slapped on the butt can easily progress to being pushed, grabbed and pressured to have sex. Victims struggle to be heard and validated, often going against the grain of school cultures where violence against girls and female-identified youth is not taken seriously. Because sexism and sexual violence are not deemed to be a public health crisis, Black and BIPOC girls face rampant denial that it is important. This lack of priority is reflected in the language used to describe, demean, sexualize, and police Black girls’ behavior.

In many schools, sexual and reproductive health are taught once in health classes, typically during 9th grade. Mandatory prevention education all four years of high school would have a critical impact on curbing high rates of domestic and sexual violence among teens and young adults. For example, a 2021 study showed a significant link between mass shootings and domestic violence. From 2014–2019, 59.1% of mass shootings were DV-related. In over 68% of mass shootings, “the perpetrator either killed at least one partner or family member or had a history of DV”. Granted, mass shootings only account for 1% of gun homicides in the U.S., yet their public and psychological impact is immense. At the same time, the everyday gun homicide that occurs in communities of color rarely receives the same media attention, and Black women and girls pay the steepest price.

How many Black girls have to die or psychologically languish before our communities mobilize to end the epidemic levels of gender-based violence and homicide they are experiencing? Free accessible therapy, arts-based healing, youth leadership support, and community-building opportunities and literature circles featuring Black feminist, BIPOC and queer books can provide coping resources for and safe havens from the unrelenting violence Black girls, femmes of color and queer youth experience in their everyday lives. Regular check-ins from engaged adult mentors on the hopes, aspirations, fears, and dreams of youth with anxiety can also be healing. Depression and sadness shouldn’t be normalized as the “constant companions” girls and queer youth carry with them. Black feminist, womanist and anti-racist humanistic interventions can and should be the prescription for long term mental health restoration for our youth.

Medical Apartheid in Inglewood: Justice for April Valentine

 

Justice4AprilValentine rally, photo by Sikivu Hutchinson

By Sikivu Hutchinson

Reverence for white pregnant women, white motherhood, and the maintenance of white families are an integral part of American national identity. Built on a white supremacist standard of care that favors, privileges, and uplifts white bodies as the “invisible” norm and standard of humanity, Black folks are automatically dehumanized in these systems.

April Valentine, photo by Valentine family

On January 10th, April Valentine, a 31 year-old African American young woman who was pregnant with her first child, died at Centinela Hospital in Inglewood after complaining to nurses for hours about numbness in her legs. Over the past two weeks, her family and hundreds of supporters from the community have gathered at the hospital to protest her death and call for justice. Valentine gave birth to a baby daughter named Aniya before she passed away.

Justice4AprilValentine rally, photo by Sikivu Hutchinson

Valentine’s cousin, Mykesha Mack, has been leading the protests at Centinela. She described her cousin as a warm, loving person who had a special passion for helping children. At this Saturday’s demonstration, she lamented that Valentine, “Couldn’t wait to be a mother, and she was robbed of that. She could be your sister, your daughter or your cousin. This is a human rights issue.”

Justice4AprilValentine rally, photo by Sikivu Hutchinson

The family maintains that Valentine’s regular doctor was not present when she started to experience distress and didn’t come for hours later. They also criticized the facility’s old equipment and expressed dismay that Centinela is one of the only hospitals in the Inglewood area, serving a predominantly Black and Latinx working class community. This week, they will meet with Second District Supervisor Holly Mitchell and District 35 Senator Steven Bradford. They are also requesting that California Attorney General Rob Bonta launch a state investigation into Valentine’s death. Mack has also recommend that supporters show up to Inglewood City Council meetings to provide public comment and press for accountability.

Mykesha Mack, Justice4AprilValentine rally, photo by Sikivu Hutchinson

According to Google reviews from former pregnant and parenting patients who were treated at Centinela Hospital, Valentine’s experiences were not unique. As one former patient wrote, “This is the worst hospital to have a baby. I got the worst care from an admitting nurse…She was very rude to me. She kept putting me down about my health issues and weight. When it was time to transfer to another room, she kept telling me to hurry up so my baby won’t be born on the floor. She also told me not to scream because I will scare other women. She treated my husband horribly like he was a stranger. Even told him to go outside to ask if I was being abused. I think she did that because my husband is black.”

Another patient who was 36 weeks pregnant related that she encountered rude and unprofessional behavior which made her feel unsafe. The staff member she dealt with “made comments on my personal life. Instead of helping me she was more judgmental. I wasn’t even seen by a doctor and was not provided a wheelchair.”

The anti-Blackness that these women experienced appeared to be normalized within the culture of this facility (another Black male patient also complained about racist behavior from staff and numerous posters expressed outrage about delays in treatment). Mistreatment of and disdain for Black patients is baked into the American medical establishment. High rates of maternal morbidity among Black women attest to systemic failures not only at the level of inpatient care but also at the prenatal level.

According to the CDC, Black women are three times more likely to die from a pregnancy-related cause than White women. In 2020, the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 55.3 deaths per 100,000 live births. The 2020 rate for white women was 19.1 deaths per 100,000 live births. Lack of access to overall quality healthcare due to the intersections of poverty, racism, and anti-Black misogyny, as well as underlying chronic conditions (such as diabetes, hypertension, and obesity), and the “implicit bias” of health practitioners are leading factors in these disparities.

One solution that has been implemented with success is providing Black women with doula support. “Doulas offer guidance on pain or complications ahead of delivery and help clients navigate hospitals and doctors. Continuous guidance from a doula has been cited as one of the most effective interventions in easing pregnancy. Doulas offer guidance on pain or complications ahead of delivery and help clients navigate hospitals and doctors”.

Doulas are an important intervention, but preventive education that challenges racist/sexist perceptions about Black women is also critical. Centuries of anti-Black misogyny have constructed Black women as subhuman breeder/Jezebels who are immune to pain, less “feminine” than white women, and thus not worthy of care or protection. As Hannah Nikole Jones notes in the 1619 Project documentary, “All these centuries later, false beliefs about Black women’s pain and their humanity still impact the reproductive health care they receive and the consequences for black women and their children.”

As of this date, Valentine’s family has not received any information or correspondence from the hospital about the circumstances leading up to her death. Valentine’s horrific and unconscionable experience underscores why the U.S.’ medical apartheid regime continues to pose a clear and present danger to Black women, communities, and families.

Action Steps:

· Supporters who would like to donate a virtual gift card to April’s baby can contact aprillovesaniya@gmail.com or donate to the GoFundMe for Aniya.

· Community members can also contact the following elected officials who represent Inglewood residents directly:

o Representative Maxine Waters @repmaxinewaters or https://waters.house.gov/contact
 Senator Alex Padilla @senalexpadilla or 310–231–4494

Supervisor Holly Mitchell @hollyjmitchell or hollyjmitchell@bos.lacounty.gov
 Inglewood Mayor James Butts @mayorjamesbutts or 310–412–5111

· Community members can also call Prime Healthcare, the owner of Centinela Hospital, and demand that Dr. Prem Reddy step down at 909–235–4366.

· Inglewood City Council meetings are held on Tuesdays at 2pm. Info on how to provide public comment