Why I think Cop City will be disastrous for Atlanta’s Black Queer Community
 

At the beginning of this year, law enforcement in Atlanta fired 57 bullets, taking Miguel “Tortuguita” Teran from Indigenous queer environmental activist to unwilling martyr. On January 18, 2023, 26-year-old Tortuguita was shot and killed by Georgia state troopers in Atlanta during a protest against a proposed police training facility called “Cop City.”  Tortuguita's death is among at least seven violent killings of transgender or gender non-conforming people in 2023. Adding to this injustice, the how and why surrounding Tortuguita’s death was filled with misinformation and blatant lies. Initially, it was announced that 14 shots were fired at Tortuguita because they were deemed a threat. Yet body cam footage and an official autopsy revealed Tortuguita, who goes by they/them pronouns, was shot 57 times and was likely “sitting with their hands raised.”

Like hundreds of others, Tortuguita hit the streets of Atlanta to protest how public funds were distributed to Cop City. They were maimed and killed for engaging in demonstrated protest. For civic engagement. For daring to be a BIPOC queer activist.

If law enforcement in Atlanta is willing to fire 57 bullets into one person to save Cop City and curb dissent, imagine what Atlanta would look like once it’s complete. Some may argue that Atlanta would be safer, but it is doubtful that these people identify as Black and queer. I believe it would be the polar opposite.

What is Cop City, and why is it controversial?

Officially known as “Atlanta Public Safety Center” the term “Cop City” refers to plans for a police and fire training center in a 1,000-acre Atlanta woodland. Estimated at around $90 million in costs, the center’s facilities include a public auditorium, a mock city for urban training, an emergency vehicle operator course, and a K-9 kennel. The plans have faced intense scrutiny and backlash. Protesters have set up blockades and have clashed directly with law enforcement on multiple occasions.

Depending on who you ask, you may get a different answer about why people are protesting. For some, it deserves protest because Atlanta’s City Council passed the legislation despite years of sustained, visible protests. Approving $90 million for a new police center while simultaneously ignoring the glaring affordable housing crisis in Atlanta could be another reason. 
Others find the enmeshment of public safety and corporate funding of Cop City immoral. Some are vehemently opposed and concerned about police militarization.  

Others, like Tortuguita, have related but distinct reasons for rejecting the new facility. The environment. The plans for Cop City would require decimating acres of trees, a rare sight for Atlanta’s Metropolitan area.  This would result in more than just less green space, though. As discussed in a petition by Georgia’s Sierra Club, the police training facility threatens the city's ecological defense against climate change and local community health. If realized, its environmental impacts include compromised air quality, flooding in Southeast Atlanta, and potential soil and water contamination.

 Why will Cop City be uniquely harmful to Black, Indigenous and other people of color?

 Atlanta is frequently called a “gay Black mecca” or a sanctuary for Black queer folks. It is hard for me to envision that brand remaining if Cop City is allowed to flourish. Our nation is observing a simultaneous rise of three areas of hate branded as “America First”-racism, homophobia, and transphobia.

Distrust of law enforcement from the Black community is well known, but queer communities also rarely call on law enforcement for help. A 2021 report from UCLA’s William Institute revealed that queer individuals are 6 times more likely than straight, cisgender people to be stopped by police in public. Queer people also reported 2x the likelihood of being pulled over and 7x the likelihood of police pulling them outside of their vehicle. 

We do not have to look far to see what this harassment looks like in real life. In 2021, Isaiah Brown was shot after officers mistook a cord as a weapon.

 Policing has never been equal for queer people.

LGBTQIA+ individuals, particularly those of color, disproportionately experience over-policing and criminal justice discrimination. Pride and gay liberation are rooted in resisting problematic policing practices. The Stonewall Inn, a queer-friendly establishment owned by the Mafia, was frequently the target of unfair police raids. On one memorable night in 1969, patrons fought back and helped spark the gay liberation movement.  Before Stonewall, the Compton's Cafeteria riot in San Francisco in 1966 marked an earlier act of defiance, demonstrating that queer women of color often led the charge in gay liberation despite being overlooked.

Laws against sodomy and regulating gender expression, especially clothing, existed well into the 20th century. Cops often possessed carte blanche to invade queer spaces and arrest at will. Some even purposely practice entrapment as a means to police queerness. While not legal, in some jurisdictions, existing as Queer is enough to spur an arrest. For example, studies indicate that Black transgender people are 50% more likely to be arrested on suspicion of sex work. At the same time, young LGBTQ individuals reported that carrying condoms could lead to police questioning or even arrest on prostitution-related charges. A 2021 Prison Policy Initiative brief highlights that LGBTQ+ individuals face significantly higher arrest rates, incarceration, and community supervision than straight and cisgender counterparts. None of these even begin to explore the impact of being queer once incarcerated. 

The Paradox of Salvation

The presence of law enforcement may be comforting to some but traumatic to others. Law enforcement does not always represent salvation; for Black queer people, especially Black transwomen, nothing is furthest from the truth. Nearly all aspects of the criminal justice system renders Black trans women invisible or vulnerable. For example, 1/3 of women in a recent study had sexual intercourse with a law enforcement officer, often reporting forced intercourse while engaging in commercial sex work.

According to The National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs, transgender people faced police violence 3.7 times more than their cisgender counterparts. They were seven times more prone to physical violence during police interactions. In 2013,  72% of hate violence homicide victims were transgender women, with 67% of these being transgender women of color, though they only constitute 13% of total reports.

10 years later, and these figures are equally as grim. Earlier this year, two Black trans women in Atlanta werekilled less than a week apart. One of the victims, KoKo Da Doll, was recently featured in anaward-winning documentary that gathered multiple awards at Sundance.

Cop City is likely not the answer to Black queer safety in Atlanta, especially if officials continue to ignore the cries of their most marginalized. 57 bullets recklessly took Tortuguita’s life. Homophobia, racism, transphobia, and systemic neglect continue to take Black queer lives in Atlanta. We know who shot Tortuguita. We frequently do not know who takes the lives of Black queer people.Police rarely do either.

 

Deion S. Hawkins, Ph.D. is Senior Editor of The Reckoning. He is an Assistant Professor of Argumentation & Advocacy and the Director of Debate at Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to guiding a nationally recognized speech & debate team, Deion teaches various courses, including, Rhetoric of Social Movements, Health Communication & Health Advocacy. Besides publishing academic research focusing on racial justice in HIV, Deion’s writing has also been featured in Salon, Yahoo, Fortune, and HowStuffWorks. Deion is passionate about using his background in advocacy to advance equity and liberation, especially for Black queer men. He remains committed to serving historically marginalized, under-resourced, and under-served populations. For example, he is on the Board of Directors for Boston Healthcare For The Homeless Program, a nonprofit dedicated to providing comprehensive and dignified healthcare regardless of one’s housing status.