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disability rights
Cop City Is A Disability Issue, and Disabled Organizers Must Fight To Stop It
In a society that prioritizes profits over people, disabled people are frequently marginalized and disposed of. Incarceration and police violence underscore the ways capitalism fails its most vulnerable.
Jan 10, 2025
Snce 2020, plans to build militarized police training facilities, also known as cop cities, have erupted across the country in an effort to maintain the status quo and quell political dissent from abolitionist and progressive organizers. As of July 2024, there are 80 projects either already being built or in the process of negotiating contracts to begin construction. Ten states have plans for multiple police compounds. The creation of these training facilities marks a new chapter of policing in the U.S.
Disability justice and disabled community organizers must be at the forefront of the nationwide movement to stop cop cities because this movement is a disability justice issue.
The movement to #StopCopCity emerged in the wake of nationwide uprisings in response to police killings of Black people, sparking critical conversations around the role of policing, the limits of police reform, community safety, and alternatives to the criminal legal system. Along with other organizations, I organized on the ground in Atlanta, where multiple police agencies used militarized tactics against community members. This occurred even as we mourned the loss of Rayshard Brooks, a member of our community who was killed by the Atlanta Police Department. All of this unfolded as we grappled with the profound impacts of a global pandemic—a mass-disabling event affecting countless lives.
We must listen to and follow the leadership of disabled people, especially those who are formerly or currently incarcerated.
Our collective grief transformed into action, fueling demands to end state-sanctioned violence and redirect investment into our communities. Our displays of solidarity angered and alarmed corporations, as well as local and national political establishments. In collaboration with major media outlets, those in power obscured the focus, reframing the narrative around rising crime rates and once again positioning police as the solution to our social, political, and economic challenges.
As a response to our organizing efforts, the city of Atlanta decided to build a $90 million complex equipped with military-grade facilities and a mock city for urban police training. If completed, this would be the country’s largest police training facility. Other municipalities have followed Atlanta’s misleadership. Cop city proposals have surfaced in Baltimore, Maryland; San Pablo, California; Fitchburg, Massachusetts; and Nashville, Tennessee all in response to demonstrations that took place in 2020. Meanwhile, other facilities have completed construction and are currently in operation like the cop cities in Semmes, Alabama; Fort Lauderdale, Florida; Decatur and Chicago, Illinois; and Madisonville, Kentucky.
In a society that prioritizes profits over people, disabled people are frequently marginalized and disposed of. Incarceration and police violence underscore the ways capitalism fails its most vulnerable. Disabled people are often excluded from discussions about the criminal legal system, resulting in limited and ineffective strategies for addressing the root causes of incarceration (e.g., poverty, racism, and capitalism).
The overrepresentation of people with disabilities in prisons and jails illustrates how victims of capitalism are locked up and harmed. Approximately 66% of incarcerated individuals in the U.S. report having a disability, while half of all people killed by police are disabled, with disabled Black Americans disproportionately affected. Even people without a disability who are locked up develop some sort of disability over the course of their imprisonment because the prison system is disabling.
Each year, an estimated 350 people with mental health diagnoses are killed by law enforcement, and individuals with psychiatric disabilities are 16 times more likely to be killed during police encounters. People like Anthony Hill, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Deborah Danner, Alfred Olango, Daniel Prude, Magdiel Sanchez, Freddie Gray, and countless others were all disabled people who were murdered by police.
These risks are even greater for people of color, women, trans folks, and LGBTQIA+ people. An alarming statistic reveals that by age 28, half of all disabled Black Americans have experienced arrest, underscoring the urgent need to address police violence and brutality as an intersectional issue that includes disability justice. These statistics will continue to rise as more Cop Cities are built, which will place BIPOC disabled individuals in closer proximity to police and increase their risk of harm.
The estimated budgets for these police training facilities are staggering; meanwhile police funding already consumes the majority of municipal budgets at the expense of essential social services. As police budgets grow, funding for education, direct services, infrastructure, and healthcare falls, leaving many—especially disabled individuals—without access to the resources they need. For example, Baltimore’s training facility is projected to cost $330 million; San Pablo, California estimates a $44 million facility, and Richmond, Kentucky, has a $28 million project budget.
Investing more in police departments does not create safer communities. Increased training does not address the root causes of violence. The safest communities are those that are well-resourced and have minimal police presence. Our communities deserve better.
The changing landscape of policing in the U.S. is increasingly characterized by international police exchange programs (also known as Deadly Exchange programs), which expose officers to new surveillance methods, military tactics, and forms of political repression from countries with notorious human rights abuses.
The Georgia International Law Enforcement Exchange (GILEE) program in Atlanta sends U.S. officers to train with the Israeli Occupation Forces (IOF), who are responsible for the ongoing genocide of Palestinians. The IOF conducts urban warfare training in a mock city called "Little Gaza," a replica of the Gaza Strip designed to simulate combat scenarios. These practices serve as the blueprint for cop cities across the U.S.
In Baltimore, an Amnesty International report found that the Baltimore Police Department’s participation in deadly exchange programs with Israel contributed to “widespread constitutional violations, discriminatory enforcement, and a culture of retaliation.” However, more police departments are participating in deadly exchange programs. Police officials from states including Florida, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Connecticut, Massachusetts, North Carolina, Washington, and D.C. have also trained with Israeli paramilitary forces.
Israel, a nation responsible for the killing and disabling of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, serves as the model for these military complexes. These tactics will disproportionately impact marginalized communities domestically and amplify surveillance and repression in already vulnerable areas. Disability Justice involves liberating Palestinians from the disabling effects of genocide.
Climate change is deeply connected to the issues of cop cities and disability justice. Projects like those in Atlanta and Nashville involve clearing large areas of urban forest, causing severe environmental harm. For example, Atlanta’s urban forest, which protects communities from flash flooding, has already been compromised, leading to increased flooding across the city. Such environmental degradation worsens health conditions for disabled people, leaving them to face the consequences with little support, as we saw during disasters like Hurricane Helene. This situation will only deteriorate further.
What is to be done?
The phrase “death by a thousand cuts” reminds us that there is no single solution to combat social injustice in this country. Addressing these challenges requires a diversity of tactics and a shared commitment to building a better world. Everyone has a role to play in movement work—whether it’s cooking for comrades, taking meeting notes, providing childcare so others can participate, or conducting research on targets. Every action, big or small, adds up, creating momentum when combined with the efforts of others. There is a place for you; come find it.
We must listen to and follow the leadership of disabled people, especially those who are formerly or currently incarcerated. Those directly impacted by oppressive systems possess invaluable knowledge of how these systems function and must be at the forefront of our movements. Yes, that means building relationships with people currently incarcerated.
It’s equally critical to learn from past campaigns, both their victories and setbacks. For example, the 2017 #NoCopAcademy campaign in Chicago, which sought to stop the construction of a police training facility, illustrates how grassroots organizing can achieve tangible wins. While the facility was ultimately built, organizers succeeded in cutting $21 million from school policing budgets, a significant step toward redistributing resources.
A new world is emerging, whether we are ready for it or not. It’s up to all of us to prepare and take action to shape what comes next. Liberation is possible, but we need you to make it a reality.
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As Always, It’s Up to Us: Questions for a Second Trump Presidency
As a scholar of social movements in the United States, I look to what the activists of the past show us: Justice doesn’t come from the White House. It comes from the people.
Nov 06, 2024
Former U.S. President Donald Trump won a second term. Handily. I see, already, the overwhelming dread flooding my social media. After all, Americans elected a man who has bragged about grabbing women by the pussy, who has bred fear and hatred toward Central American migrants, who has pledged to undo any climate protections he can get his grubby little orange hands on, who oversaw the eradication of abortion rights, who has praised white supremacist, antisemitic marchers as “very fine people,” and who fostered an insurrection. Again.
Knowing this, what do we do next?
As a scholar of social movements in the United States, I look to what the activists of the past show us: Justice doesn’t come from the White House. It comes from us.
In 1977, dozens of disabled activists occupied a federal building in San Francisco, demanding that the Carter administration enforce Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. Section 504 was the first piece of federal legislation that prohibited discrimination against people with disabilities, yet four years after its passage, the law just sat on the books with no regulation to power it. Disabled protestors camped out for 26 days, supported by a coalition of labor, queer, and Black groups—most importantly, the Black Panther Party, who fed the protestors warm food every single day. Eventually, the administration relented, vowing to regulate Section 504. If you know a child who has benefited from a 504 plan in school, that wasn’t because of the goodness of the government’s heart but because of the sweat, the joy, and the organizing of a group of disabled activists and their allies in the Bay Area.
There are countless examples before and after 1977 of tireless activists creating the world they want to live in despite the apathy of their government. And we can continue to follow their roadmap today by building the worlds we want to live in, we want to grow families in, without the permission of the electorate.
Here are some questions to guide us.
The Trump campaign mobilized its base by villainizing some of the most vulnerable youth, transgender, and non-binary kids, as symbols of a decaying world order. Knowing that, how are we going to uplift gender-non-conforming kids in our communities? Who are we going to elect to school board that will affirm trans kids’ dignity and protect their privacy? How are we going to open our homes to queer and trans youth who are rejected from their families? How are we going to build spaces for kids to explore their gender with love and curiosity?
The reality is, these are the same questions we should have been asking ourselves even if Kamala Harris had won the presidency.
The president-elect has been recorded bragging about touching women’s genitals without their consent, was found liable for sexual assault, and ushered in the end of Roe v Wade. Knowing that, how are we going to raise children with confidence in their bodily autonomy—and respect for others? How are we going to create reporting structures in our workplaces and schools that believe and support survivors? How can we move toward restorative justice practices that prioritize the healing of survivors and communities and prevent further harm? How are we going to mobilize to ensure every person has access to safe abortion care, no matter what state they live in, whenever it is needed?
The Trump campaign promised mass deportations, characterized immigrants as criminals, and admitted to spreading false claims about immigrants eating pets. Knowing this, how we do build communities that welcome immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers? How do we amplify stories that illustrate the humanity of brown and Black immigrants? How do we advocate local governments for policies that protect our neighbors from deportations and criminalization? How do we teach our children to welcome new cultures and traditions rather than fear the unknown?
The Trump campaign has vowed to undo the minimal environmental protections we had. Knowing that, how are we going to ensure that our cities don’t dump environmental disasters on the doorsteps of our working class, Black, and brown neighborhoods? How are we going to push state governments to invest in clean energy, clean water, and clean air? How are we going to support Indigenous-led movements to return the land to its original stewards and protectors? How are we going to re-organize our daily lives to privilege sustainability over convenience and thus divest from corporate solutions that pollute our world?
The Trump campaign has used vulgar, racist, sexist, and just plain rude language to describe its opponents. How do we build communities grounded in love and kindness? How do we model such love and kindness to our children? How do we listen to marginalized communities and follow their lead on what language to use when organizing with them? How do we organize ourselves to protect the most targeted as beloved kin? How do we create opportunities for collective joy and creativity and friendship?
As individuals, we cannot tackle every question listed above, and in my post-election haze, I know I have left out critical issues. (How do we protect our children from gun violence? How do we stop the genocides in Gaza and Sudan and emerging genocidal threats across the globe? How do we abolish systems that criminalize Blackness, disability, and poverty?) But if you’re new to organizing and activism, you can find a group of people who are already grappling with the questions that resonate for you and can figure out how to amplify and support their work. And if you have been already doing this work for years, I thank you.
The reality is, these are the same questions we should have been asking ourselves even if Kamala Harris had won the presidency. Presidential candidates will never be our saviors. As always, it is up to us to forge the path to liberation, even in times of the deepest despair, grief, and shock. Especially in these times.
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The Disabled Community’s Election-Season Message to America: Don’t Box Us Out
We deserve to not just survive, but to thrive. And we’ll fight like hell, and vote like hell, until we get everything we deserve.
Oct 26, 2024
It’s been a hell of a year for everyone. Record-breaking natural disasters have decimated entire cities, gun violence continues to plague our schools and public spaces with little-to-nothing done to stop it. Grocery and rent prices are high, wages are low, the U.S. war machine rages across the globe while we have no choice but to foot the bill, and yet another major election looms.
For disabled folks across the country, these issues and more have never been more amplified. The reality for our community is that disabled people are exhausted because we’re being left behind with no choice but to fight for our survival in a world that isn’t designed for it. We’re being forced to grieve because our friends and family are dying—deaths that are often avoidable. We’re still being misrepresented in the media, still without adequate access both in physical spaces and in the digital realm, and all the while our needs aren’t being heard. 2024 has proven, once again, that we as a community are being cast aside. But what those in power don’t realize is that while they ignore us, we’re organizing. We are making it known that we’re tired of being forgotten, and we’re ready to fight.
Right now in the final days of the election, we’re seeing politicians going about business as usual—touting plans for the country, states, and local communities that sound appealing but often lack substance and detail. That in itself is frustrating and disheartening, but disabled folks aren’t even seeing themselves in the conversation. We aren’t at the table in any way. Candidates aren’t including disabled people in decision-making processes when it comes to policy and campaign platforms. Disability orgs nationwide have approached campaigns to ask candidates about the issues facing our community, and are being met with lackluster responses; in many cases, no response at all. We are being neglected by those in power, even as we continue to raise our voices about what we need.
The disability community is not a monolith, but we are a legitimate voting bloc and one that demands to be taken seriously.
The recent devastating hurricanes across the South have shown us not just the horrific consequences of our inaction on climate change, but also that disabled folks are being boxed out of disaster preparedness measures and training. How can disabled people survive these storms if there’s no plan in place for how to save us? Saving ourselves only goes so far when there’s no consideration for our well-being in the plans that local and state governments make. Emergency resources are often inaccessible, leaving many out of reach of help that they desperately need. Disabled folks are two to four times more likely to die or be critically injured during a disaster—that in itself is a crisis, and one that we are being left alone to navigate.
Disabled people are also being forced into poverty at frightening rates. As the cost of living continues to increase across the board, the cost of survival for disabled folks is at an all-time high. People have to choose between full-time employment or government assistance for services they need to live; there is no middle ground here. Thousands of disabled people across the country are being paid subminimum wages, with hundreds of businesses allowed to do so thanks to the legality of 14c certificates. Over 700,000 people across the country are on waiting lists for in-home care Medicaid waivers that in many cases have left them with no choice but to live in nursing homes. All the while, states like Texas, which has over 300,000 people on its waiting list, boast budget surpluses in the tens of billions. Funding of these waivers are given the lowest priority, even while advocates beg lawmakers to do something. Anything.
For multiply marginalized disabled folks, like Black disabled people and trans disabled people, their lives are at greater risk due to law enforcement interactions and dangerous legislation than ever before. Fifty percent of those killed by law enforcement are disabled, and 55% of Black disabled men are likely to be arrested by 28 years old. The killing of Sonya Massey in July shows plainly, as do countless other examples, that Black disabled folks are not safe when interacting with police.
Legislation that targets the LGBTQ+ community has a significant impact on disabled folks as well, with the anti-trans legislation being introduced and enacted in states across the country leaving trans disabled folks at risk of not receiving care that they need. And we know that transgender people are more likely to be disabled than cisgender people.
And let’s not forget about one of the biggest threats to disabled autonomy that there is—voter suppression. Across the country, hundreds of anti-voter laws have been introduced and in many cases passed, which disproportionately affect disabled voters and prevent them from participating in Democracy. In Alabama, SB1 prohibited voters from receiving assistance with absentee ballots, which specifically targeted disabled Alabamians who rely on assistance from care workers to cast their vote in elections. SB1 is just one example of the over 400 anti-voter bills that have been introduced in recent years.
Where does this leave us today? Exhausted. But that doesn’t mean we’ve given up. The disability community is not a monolith, but we are a legitimate voting bloc and one that demands to be taken seriously. We are a powerful community of people with a shared identity that has empowered us like never before. The disability justice movement, which centers self-determination and emphasizes that ableism is a form of oppression that is linked to other forms experienced by the most marginalized among us, has grown exponentially in recent years. Activists across the country are fighting on behalf of all of us to be seen and heard. We’re working to shift the lens on disability—to be seen as more than just one thing. We’re running for office and assuming positions of leadership. We’re launching our own organizations, advocacy groups, media companies, and news publications because that’s what we need to do to make sure we’re being counted.
And so, in the last weeks of the election, if there’s one message the disability community has, it’s this: Don’t box us out. Don’t ignore us. Because we might be tired, but we’re here. We’re fed up. And we deserve the autonomy we’ve been fighting for day in and day out. We deserve to not just survive, but to thrive. And we’ll fight like hell, and vote like hell, until we get everything we deserve. 2024 be damned.
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