Someone pick up the phone because I FUCKING CALLED IT.

That’s me, quoting Yu-Gi-Oh! Abridged because I predicted some sort of scenario was gonna go down. While it didn’t quite turn out as I guessed in Lighthouse, we’ll get into detail about this vague third space I alluded to.

One of my Rules for this year, as I become more involved in local community efforts, is to not try to re-invent the wheel. I am to find what already exists and apply my efforts there. I can bolster the work of those that have been doing it. While some groups were right on the surface (of Instagram…), others I had to think back on– "oh yeah, that exists!"

Maybe even resurrect something if I feel there is a need for it. I tried with Pink Pistols, because it’s become more apparent that we need to become familiar with various self-defense techniques. As of this post, however, it’s a rare crossover. Guns have that 2A ‘Murrica Stigma and (classist) Redneck stereotyping. Surely, liberals don’t need something as… callous… as a pistol, right? Riiiight? Ha!

Thirty-one states allow all qualified citizens to carry concealed weapons. In those states, homosexuals should embark on organized efforts to become comfortable with guns, learn to use them safely and carry them.The Salon Article by Jonathan Rauch

But there had been a need for it. In my city, there was a chapter here. It died. Twice. So I gave it a third shot. In an unmoored and dying Facebook group, unresponsive contacts, and not enough time, it was tough to get it going. But I had a few friends respond to my requests to co-organize. Even better, there had been a parallel revival and when we bumped into each other, we decided to combine forces. And that was awesome— the more the merrier, spreading out the work and having each of us able to focus in an aspect of the group with our personal strengths. With over 50 members and some events under our belt, we were picking up steam and on our way to long-term stability.

Until Sunday.

It started off well enough. We annexed a table for all six of us, and there was plenty of time to order brunch and shoot the shit. We finally met each other face-to-face, putting names and pronouns to avatars. We introduced ourselves, stated our goals and strengths, assigned Official Titles, and went down the agenda.

Cops were brought up.

Specifically, LGBTQ/queer cops.

Within seconds, the table was evenly split down the middle as I put my foot down and refused. No, I didn’t care that they were queer as well. No, I didn’t care that they had expertise. And I certainly did not give a shit that someone’s lesbian cop friend got their feelings hurt. Fortunately, I wasn’t alone. On my left, Nathan brought up how being a cop was a choice, unlike your orientation. On my right, Uma cited how harmful cops are to marginalized groups. Between the two of them we had a very solid case: I spoke that, by including LEOs (Law Enforcement Officers), they are making the space hostile toward the most vulnerable: The BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) who are the most affected by police brutality (and that’s excluding all the whitewashing— thanks to "L.U." for putting that together!). And, for the record, they don’t have a great track record with the queer community in general!

The people across from us shot down every argument we had.

As if Stonewall never happened.

As if the statistics do not exist.

As if we haven’t been saying NO COPS AT PRIDE for years now.

As if we could afford to keep living in a vacuum not affected by history.

I looked across the other side gobsmacked thinking they lost their gotdamn fucking minds. Why was this even a discussion, and why the hell were they dedicated so hard to this!?

I only had one thing I kept going back to: Whiteness. The Institution, I suppose. Because yes. They were. They were white. The wall me and my allies hit was a White brick one. We were going up against Whiteness– a thoughtless, callous thing that only cares to perpetuate itself no matter the cost. Fuck their own safety, fuck diversity, fuck the reality that we fucking live in, and what I heard loud and clear that day: fuck every Black trans femme who was mistreated or killed by those fucking class traitors.

Eventually, I conceded. Uma begged me not to. Nathan proposed a compromise: cops will be allowed, but will be vetted heavily. When they asked me if that was acceptable, I lied to their face and said "Yes." I conceded because I was planning to get the fuck out of there. I was alarmed; I was done. Besides, why fight for this thing that wasn’t wholly mine to begin with? I didn’t make up the guidelines, or the logo, of the proposed structure.

…

And seriously. What even the fuck.

What is it y’all are not understanding?

Do you know shit like this is why your spaces remain devoid of BIPOC members? Do you know why, as people notice that their only Black admin stepped down abruptly, other Black people are going to take that as a red flag? Why most BIPOC folx just throw their hands up and make a point to exclude non-BIPOC folx from their spaces?

You don’t understand or you don’t care. Naivety can be damaging, too. I believe all three of those things were apparent the Sunday. (And one more thing– you aren’t trying hard enough.)

Anyway.

The rest of the meeting went by. I waved and hoped Franny and Leon drove home safe, smiling the entire time like I wasn’t blatantly shown how little I mattered. I chuckled with Opal as they lamented on how tired they were, like they were the ones who was fighting for their human right to safety. But I fumed with Uma before going our separate ways and Nathan made a silent, unhappy exit.

That night, I gathered all my work together. The next morning, I sent an email. In the afternoon over tea I posted my resignation letter in the group chat. Uma and Nathan also declared that they were stepping down. Our decision was "respected" and "understood." But that didn’t stop someone from quoting the Pink Pistol Utility manual at us; "nowhere does it say to exclude queer LEOs." And to be fair, the manual doesn’t declare one way or another– and made a point to only lay down the basic guidelines– so we assumed that it was up to individual chapters. Until it suddenly became important that we follow them to the letter.

That only justified my decision to walk away, because fuck the establishment, girlie. I had a few more choice words along those lines, but here’s the GIF I mic-dropped before departing.

I don’t need Pink Pistols, at least in that form. I don’t need to organize with people who aren’t on the same level as I am. I can’t afford to try and build something up with people who have a different (faulty, uncritical) foundation. And, as I learned from being on Mastodon– if you’re not keeping in mind the most vulnerable among you, you’re doing community wrong and you are going to fail them.

So I’ll keep looking; there’s bound to be more out there. If it doesn’t exist in my niche and in my neck of the woods, we’ll build it. With people in my corner and the demand being there, we’ll figure it out.

We always do.