Добірка наукової літератури з теми "Police – Violence against – New York (State)"

Since the historic uprisings sparked by the murder of George Floyd, growing calls to defund the police have upended mainstream political discourse in the United States. Outrage at appalling evidence of rampant police brutality and an entrenched culture of impunity have moved to the very center of public debate what were until recently dismissed as radical demands. This dramatic shift has, among other things, opened up space for discussion of the history of policing and the prison-industrial complex more broadly. In particular, abolitionists have urged examination of the deep roots of our contemporary situation. As the organizer and educator Mariame Kaba argued in an editorial published in The New York Times, “There is not a single era in United States history in which the police were not a force of violence against black people.”1 That a statement like this would appear in the paper of record reflects a paradigm shift in popular understandings of the history of the criminal legal system.

This article presents findings from a systematic literature review that examined various forms of adolescent sexting, and as relevant to educator responsibilities in the support of prosocial behavior and teen dating violence (TDV) prevention within the United States. Proceeding in three parts, part one documents study methodology and offers an overview of adolescent sexting. This section also discusses tensions between sexting as adolescent empowerment and as a form of dating violence. This is followed by a deeper examination of how adolescent sexting is connected to other forms of sexual violence documented to disproportionately affect heterosexual females. Though laws on sexting are minimal, part three discusses U.S. federal and Supreme Court guidance having particular significance for this issue. This section also presents the case of New York State (NYS) to consider the connection between localized policies and schooling practices. Concerned with sexting as a form of consensual adolescent behavior, this article concludes with considerations for educational research, policy, and practice. This article contributes to established research literature weighing the prosocial aspects of sexting against those factors that contribute to and make it difficult to leave a violent relationship. Though empirical research was limited, it also highlights existent research on sexting as relevant to underserved and marginalized adolescent subgroups.

Migrant Asian massage workers in North America first experienced the impacts of COVID-19 in the final weeks of January 2020, when business dropped drastically due to widespread xenophobic fears that the virus was concentrated in Chinese diasporic communities. The sustained economic devastation, which began at least 8 weeks prior to the first social distancing and shelter in place orders issued in the U.S. and Canada, has been further complicated by a history of aggressive policing of migrant massage workers in the wake of the war against human trafficking. Migrant Asian massage businesses are increasingly policed as locales of potential illicit sex work and human trafficking, as police and anti-trafficking initiatives target migrant Asian massage workers despite the fact that most do not provide sexual services. The scapegoating of migrant Asian massage workers and criminalization of sex work have led to devastating systemic and interpersonal violence, including numerous deportations, arrests, and deaths, most notably the recent murder of eight people at three Atlanta-based spas. The policing of sex workers has historically been mobilized along fears of sexually transmitted disease and infection, and more recently, within the past two decades, around a moral panic against sex trafficking. New racial anxieties around the coronavirus as an Asian disease have been mobilized by the state to further cement the justification of policing Asian migrant workers along the axes of health, migration, and sexual labor. These justifications also solidify discriminatory social welfare regimes that exclude Asian migrant massage workers from accessing services on the basis of the informality and illegality of their work mixed with their precarious citizenship status. This paper draws from ethnographic participant observation and survey data collected by two sex worker organizations that work primarily with massage workers in Toronto and New York City to examine the double-edged sword of policing during the pandemic in the name of anti-trafficking coupled with exclusionary policies regarding emergency relief and social welfare, and its effects on migrant Asian massage workers in North America. Although not all migrant Asian massage workers, including those surveyed in this paper, provide sexual services, they are conflated, targeted, and treated as such by the state and therefore face similar barriers of criminalization, discrimination, and exclusion. This paper recognizes that most migrant Asian massage workers do not identify as sex workers and does not intend to label them as such or reproduce the scapegoating rhetoric used by law enforcement. Rather, it seeks to analyze how exclusionary attitudes and policies towards sex workers are transferred onto migrant Asian massage workers as well whether or not they provide sexual services.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, New York City-based Community Relations Service (“CRS”) Regional Director Reinaldo Rivera was at a New Jersey summit on racial profiling. At 8:46 a.m., an American Airlines 767 crashed into the North Tower of New York City’s World Trade Center. Because Rivera was with the New Jersey state attorney general, he quickly learned of the attack. Rivera immediately called his staff members, who at that moment were traveling to Long Island, New York, for an unrelated case. Getting into Manhattan had already become difficult, so Rivera instructed his conciliators to remain on standby. At 9:03 a.m., another 767, United Airlines Flight 175, flew into the World Trade Center’s South Tower. September 11 initiated a new, fraught-filled era for the United States. For CRS, an agency within the United States Department of Justice, it was the beginning of a long-term immersion into conflict issues that involved discrimination and violence against those whose appearance led them to be targets of anti-terrorist hysteria or mis- placed backlash. Appropriately, in the days following 9/11, the federal government, including the Federal Bureau of Investigation (“FBI”), concentrated on ferreting out the culprits of the heinous acts. However, the FBI discovered that Middle Eastern terrorists were responsible for the tragedies, and communities around the nation saw a surge of violence against people who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent, requiring a response to protect those who were unfairly targeted. These outbreaks began as soon as September 12. Police in Illinois stopped 300 people from marching on a Chicago-area mosque. In Gary, Indiana, a masked gunman shot twenty-one times at a Yemeni- American gas station attendant. In Texas, a mosque was hit by six bullets. On September 15, a man who had been reported by an Applebee’s waiter as saying that he wanted to “shoot some rag heads” shot a Chevron gas station owner Balbir Singh Sodhi, a Sikh-American. The man, Frank Roque, shot through his car window, and five bullets hit Sodhi, killing him instantly. Roque drove to a home he previously owned and had sold to an Afghan-American couple and fired on it. He then shot a Lebanese-American man. According to a police report, Roque said in reference to the 9/11 tragedy, “I [cannot] take this anymore. They killed my brothers and sisters.” Former Transportation Secretary Norman Mineta said, reflecting ten years later on the hate crimes that followed the attack on the World Trade Center, “The tragedy of September 11th should be remembered in the sense of making sure that we [do not] let our emotions run away in terms of trying to show our commitment and conviction about patriotism [and] loyalty.” The events created a new chapter in American race relations, one in which racial tensions and fear were higher than ever for Arabs, Muslims, South Asians, Sikhs, and others who could be targeted in anti-Islamic hysteria because of their physical appearance or dress. In 2011, a CBS–New York Times poll found that 78% agreed that Muslims, Arab-Americans, and immigrants from the Middle East are singled out unfairly by people in this country. Shortly after the September 11 attacks, this number stood at 90%. The same poll also found that one in three Americans think Muslim-Americans are more sympathetic to terrorists than other Americans. To address these misconceptions in the years following 9/11, CRS has done a significant amount of outreach, dispute resolution, and training to mitigate unfounded backlash against Arabs, Muslims, and Sikhs. Under CRS Director Freeman, the agency produced Sikh and Muslim cultural-competency trainings and two training videos: On Common Ground, which provides background on Sikhism and concerns about safety held by Sikhs in America; and The First Three to Five Seconds, which provides background on Muslims and information on their interactions with law enforcement. In 2009, President Obamas signed the Matthew Shepard-James Byrd Junior Hate Crimes Prevention Act. The Act explicitly gave CRS jurisdiction to respond to and prevent hate crimes. For the first time, CRS jurisdiction expanded beyond race. Specifically, CRS was now authorized to work on issues of religion, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, and disability in addition to race, color, and national origin. When I became CRS Director in 2012, following the continued incidents of unfounded violence and prejudice against those perceived as sharing heritage with Middle Eastern terrorists, I directed the agency to update the trainings and launched an initiative for regional offices to conduct these Sikh and Muslim cultural-competency trainings. In the years following 9/11, controversy has continued over racial profiling of Arab, Muslim, and Sikh individuals. Owing to the nature of the attack, one particular area of ongoing concern is access to airplane flights. Director of Transportation Mineta recalled how the racial profiling he witnessed echoed his own experience as a Japanese-American citizen: [T]here were a lot of people saying, “[We are] not [going to] let Middle Easterners or Muslims on the planes.” And I thought about my own experience [during World War II] because people [could not] make the distinction between the people who were flying the airplanes that attacked Pearl Harbor and the people who were living in Washington, Oregon, and California, who looked like the people flying the airplanes. In response to this problem, CRS trained thousands of law enforcement and Transit Security Association employees on cultural professionalism in working with Arab, Muslim, and Sikh individuals. The work of addressing the profiling and mistreatment of Arab-Americans, Muslims, and Sikhs also spiked after the 2013 bombing of the Boston Marathon. CRS conciliators again reached out to leaders throughout the country at mosques and gurdwaras to confront safety and security issues regarding houses of worship and concerns about backlash violence based on faith, nationality, and race. Since 9/11, CRS’s work on racial profiling continues to respond to increasing conflicts and tensions both within the United States and around the globe. In the wake of the 9/11 tragedy, CRS adjusted its priorities and reallocated resources in the wake of the September 11 tragedy to address the needs of targeted communities and further intercultural understanding. CRS did so by increasing the religious awareness training provided to law enforcement and other agencies, and it committed more resources to working with Muslim and Sikh faith and advocacy organizations and people. This work was not originally envisioned when the 1964 Civil Rights Act created CRS. How- ever, this new focus reflects how the model of the African-American civil rights movement has inspired other efforts to attain equality and justice for minority groups in the United States. Just as the tragedy in Selma helped lead to the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, the Oak Creek tragedy helped lead the FBI to update its hate crime categories. Former FBI Director James Comey articulated this idea best in his speech to the Anti-Defamation League, stating “do a better job of tracking and reporting hate crime to fully understand what is happening in our communities and how to stop it.” The Community Relations Service has evolved over time since its 1964 origins, and a substantial component has been the work in response to post 9/11 unfounded racial and religious violence.

Witnessing current events in Ferguson, and now in Milwaukee, New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, of course Portland, and now Kenosha, Wisconsin, where protests against police violence are met with yet more police violence, the question naturally arises: Why are police so seemingly insistent on actively working counter to their own organizational best interest? This essay poses this troubling question and derives part of an answer for it from institutional theory.

This paper contains the analysis of the Mandatory Arrest Law in domestic violence cases in New York State. Introduction includes the subject and main goals of the paper. Second chapter starts with historical development of the police response in domestic violence cases in New York before and after the Mandatory Arrest Law is passed, than analysis of the Law, and ends with one of the programs which Safe Horizon, Victim Service organization, developed in New York City. Third chapter gives the analysis of pro et contra arguments for mandatory arrest provision and results of surveys and studies, which were conducted in United States. In fourth chapter we present the analysis of the research conducted in two police precincts in New York City this year. Paper also contains the list of main problems in implementation of this Law in New York City.

This article reports findings from two studies, Drug Related Crime Analysis 1 (DRCA-H1) and Drug Related Crime Analysis 2 (DRCA-H2). Both addressed the need for routine and systematic collection of data about the drug-relatedness of homicide. DRCA-H1, conducted in New York State in 1984, focused on assessing the usefulness of existing police records for researching this subject. DRCA-H2 involved data collection during ongoing police investigations in New York City between March 1 and October 31, 1988. Both studies were structured and their findings analyzed in terms of a tripartite conceptualization of the drugs/homicide nexus. Comparing the findings of the studies reveals that existing police records are generally inadequate for providing insight into the complexities of the drugs/crime/violence nexus. However, findings from DRCA-H2 show that it is possible for researchers to work effectively with police to collect critically needed information, without causing significant disruption.

Violeta Miqueli Mayoz de González (Key West 1891- New Jersey 1972) was an educator and an executive member of ethnic and anarchist groups. She actively participated in their direct action and wrote for their periodicals in Key West, Tampa, New York, Mexico D.F., Buenos Aires, and Barcelona. Miqueli identified the systemic violence that the state exercised against workers like her: difficult access to education and healthcare, prosecution of dissenters, and disadvantaged defense of the poor. Miqueli, like other anarcha-feminists of her time, developed strategies of care and political participation with direct action to protect the people when the state did not. Through the alternative press, Miqueli provided alternative sources of information that denounced the systematic state oppression. Her organization participation provided workers with education and distributed solidarity among state prisoners, while mutual aid dignified their health care. This essay and accompanying digital exhibit explore Miqueli's direct action to show how anarcha-feminists disseminated alternative visions of society while utilizing the freedom of association and the press to organize under the state's structural top-down violence.

Troubling partnerships between the New York City Police Department (NYPD) and criminal informants during the mid-1920s adversely impacted urban African American women’s daily lives. Part of multiple hierarchies of municipal corruption, undercover surveillance operations represented one of many apparatuses law enforcers employed to criminalize black women’s ordinary behavior, to reinforce Progressive era images of black female criminality and promiscuity, and to deny women of their personhood and civil rights. Black New Yorker and criminal informant Charles Dancy, identified by local black newspapers as a vicious con artist and serial rapist, figured prominently in undercover police operations. Dancy falsely identified black women as sex workers and had them arrested, and in the process sexually assaulted women. New York blacks were outraged by some NYPD members’ use of informants as well as black women’s erroneous legal confinement. Situating informant work within the context of police brutality, racial inequity, and the denial of American citizenship, New York African American race leaders, newspaper editors, and ordinary folks devised and took part in resistance strategies that contested police surveillance operations and spoke on behalf of those who were subjected to state sanctioned violence.

On February 26, 1988, rookie New York City police officer Edward Byrne was shot dead while guarding a material witness in a drug trafficking case in South Jamaica, Queens. This article considers how state narratives and visual rhetoric emerging from Byrne’s murder emboldened the police power and a revanchist campaign aimed at “taking back the streets” secreted under the war on drugs. As such, this case powerfully illustrates a disparate politics of death and the ways that the state enlists thanatopolitical power in order to reaffirm and reproduce its sovereign authority. Such a reproduction or reanimation of power registers as the state’s ability to unleash violence unequivocally and unequally upon poor and marginalized communities, as later demonstrated by the legal and proper police murder of Sean Bell, a resident of South Jamaica, Queens killed by NYPD agents in 2006.

This study explored how Tibetan refugee women have coped with the possible trauma they experienced in Tibet and when escaping from Tibet. It also examined how these women envisioned peace between Tibet and China and what meanings they constructed about the violence they may have experienced.Twelve Tibetan refugee women were interviewed in New York City. They came from all three regions of Tibet and their mean age was 35.5 years old. Only two participants were fluent in English. A qualitative semi-structured interview was employed to understand participants' unique experiences with past trauma and any continued repercussions. The interviews also assessed how participants envisioned peace between China and Tibet and if they believed peace was at all possible. An interpreter assisted with all the interviews.The data were analyzed using grounded theory methodology; with the help of two research assistants. This methodology offered the best opportunity to investigate the participants' understandings of their experiences and their beliefs. Using the constant comparative method, the results revealed the role of participants' religion, their belief in karma, and communal support as keys in their adjustment and mental health. Additionally, the women reported feelings of loss, fear, and loneliness, but not anger or hostility. The participants also revealed, however, feelings of relief and safety leaving the threat of imprisonment or torture behind in Tibet. Further, the women expressed feelings of appreciation for their freedom and their ability to hope for a better future for themselves and their families.The results suggested that there are some specific cultural variables that helped these Tibetan refugee women navigate the course of leaving Tibet and moving to a new country. Additional studies are needed to more fully comprehend the effects of trauma on the migration of Tibetan refugee women. Such studies can help further explain the relationship between trauma and culture-bound expressions of distress. Other implications (e.g., provision of services) of the current findings are discussed, as are several limitations to the study.
Department of Counseling Psychology and Guidance Services

From its origin in 1845, the police department in New York City had to explicitly consider the racial landscape in the city, as Irish and German immigrants came to the United States and as New York's Black community of free and self-emancipated people were forced to defend their freedom because of the Fugitive Slave Law. Despite prejudice against Irish immigrants, who were seen as predisposed to crime and violence and incompatible with the Anglo-American way of life, Irish police earned racial and social mobility by opposing Irish rioters in the 1857 police civil war, the 1863 Draft Riots, and the 1871 Orange Riots. During this period the African American community in New York fought back against the willingness of police officers to collaborate with Southern enslavers.

This chapter explores how crime and violence grew during the pre–Civil War period. Gangs such as the Bowery Boys, the Chichesters, the Kerryonians, the Forty Thieves, the Atlantic Guards, and the Plug Uglies seemed to be omnipresent in New York. Membership in such groups offered young men status, alcohol, and a chance to rebel against a system seemingly stacked against them. Violence also grew as it became politicized as ethnic, cultural, and social struggles rippled through the city, reflecting the tragic side of New York's extraordinary growth. Many gang members felt a sense of entitlement, and sought to demonstrate their rights with both their ballots and their fists, as well as ways to gain political standing and wealth through saloons, the police department and firehouses. This all led to a spike in violent encounters at polling places and in public gatherings such as in the city's theaters. This state of society is reflected in the bitter rivalry between two actors, the English William Macready and the American Edwin Forrest. At the same time, immigrants flowed into New York, looking for a new home. Many, such as the Irish, encountered widespread discrimination and competition for jobs. Even so, they made a home for themselves in the city.

This chapter assesses how, after the Revolutionary War, Native Americans increased their authority by working with the U.S. government to circumvent hunger. The federal government failed to win power because it cost so much to distribute food aid, and the government was not yet powerful enough to refuse to do so. Postwar Indian country was a place of simultaneous resilience and desolation; although burned villages and scattered tribes provide plentiful evidence of disruption, there were numerous sites where Indian power waxed, at least until the mid-1790s. Approaches to Indian affairs, which included food policy, varied from state to state and evolved in three separate regions in the 1780s and 1790s: the southern states of Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Virginia; the mid-Atlantic states of New York and Pennsylvania; and the old northwest region of the Ohio Valley. Food negotiations reveal similarities between federal and state approaches, but also demonstrate that it was the competition between the states and the federal government that by 1795 left Native Americans more willing to accommodate U.S. officials in a joint cooperative fight against hunger.

The Black Liberation Army (BLA) first made itself known to the public after May 21, 1971, when members of the group assassinated New York City police officers Waverly Jones and Joseph Piagentini. This chapter shows how this killing and a wave of subsequent BLA attacks ratcheted up tensions between President Nixon and J. Edgar Hoover, who unofficially instructed FBI special agents to utilize illegal surveillance tactics to investigate the group in conjunction with its massive investigation, code-named NEWKILL. Fortunately for Nixon and Hoover, the FBI gained important leads in its BLA investigation when the guerrillas made critical tactical mistakes. However, while Nixon and the FBI sought to halt BLA violence, they did nothing to address the underlying problems of police and military violence. By maintaining impunity for guards’ killing of incarcerated Black radical George Jackson in San Quentin Prison and the New York State Police massacre of twenty-nine prisoners and ten correctional officers in Attica State Prison, Nixon and Hoover helped motivate further guerrilla retaliation.

The demonstrations, protests, and uprisings against police internationally, and the rise of the BLM movement, are inextricably connected to police violence and deaths in custody, and especially the deaths of Indigenous, Black, and people of colour. While there is a long history to policing as the violent arm of colonialism and slavery as discussed in Chapter 2, the more recent history of the struggle against police violence arises in the global revolutionary movements of the 1960s and 1970s. The anti-imperialist struggles against the US war in Vietnam and opposition to its interventions and support for dictatorships in Latin America and elsewhere, the anti-apartheid movement, the civil rights movements, the rise of worker’s and student’s militancy, and the women’s rights and gay rights movements, brought a generation of people into direct contact with the ferocity of state power. Police in various countries were at the forefront of often violent repression of these popular movements. The other important lesson from the resistance to police violence is that the popular movements were not simply oppositional – they were concerned with responding to the needs of communities in areas such as access to health, education, legal services, and housing, and in building solidarity across groups. Taking Australia and the US as examples, the struggle against police and state violence was central to the radical politics of the Black Panther and Indigenous liberation movements. The Chapter also explores the Black struggle against police violence in the UK and the various strategies that developed as a result. The chapter concludes that new forms of community-based organisations and resistance grew out of the activist movements which developed in opposition to police violence and racism.

Abstract ‘On Wednesday, 16 June 1976, Soweto erupted.’ The day when thousands of Soweto schoolchildren marched to protest against the government’s policy of making Afrikaans a medium of instruction for blacks in secondary schools was a watershed in South African history. It was ‘the day that never ended’, the day signalling the start of mass protest that the white state would never fully control. What began as a protest march against the compulsory use of Afrikaans in secondary schools soon turned into a revolt, after police shot at the children, and killed 13-year-old Hector Pieterson. It was a revolt that would spread from the youth to the workers, and from Soweto to townships all over South Africa. By August, the students were organizing worker stay-aways; by then, the revolt had spread to eighty other black communities. The level of violence against state institutions was unprecedented: on 16 June, two white officials of the West Rand Administration Board were beaten to death, and thereafter government offices, police stations, schools, and beer halls were all systematically burned down. After eighteen months of near insurrection, government authority in the townships had collapsed, and a new genera-ion of radical activists had injected renewed vigour into the struggle against apartheid.

Abstract This chapter details the real-time confrontation between abused mothers and their children with the child welfare, police, and family court systems in New York City. It primarily focuses on the issues between Mrs. Nicholson and her children against the City of New York. The victory in the Nicholson case was significant to the reconceptualization of domestic violence as a global offense that deprives women and children of their constitutionally guaranteed rights, resources, and liberties. Moreover, the ruling required New York City to provide evidence that foster care was a safer option than leaving the child alone before it placed a child. The chapter considers the psychological underpinning of a child’s constitutional right to its mother.

This chapter highlights Abraham Lincoln's issuance of the Emancipation Proclamation that promised freedom to millions of slaves in the South. It also explicates how the proclamation coincided with an important change in Nassau: Sam Whiting's tenure in the Bahamas came to an end. After dealing with the August accusations against him by William Butler, Whiting had been busy in September dealing with Dacotah and other issues. The chapter then explains how he caused a “disgraceful scene” in the presence of a large number of ladies and gentlemen on the British Queen. After Whiting wrote to Secretary of State Seward acknowledging the acceptance of his resignation and asserting that he would continue in his duties, the chapter demonstrates Seward's task on finding a replacement. The chapter introduces New York Police Department Chief Clerk Seth Hawley, and discusses his awareness of the trade between New York and Nassau.

This chapter proceeds from writings by trans feminine people active in 1970s Trans Liberation political projects in New York City, Philadelphia, and Miami. The chapter was written in the ongoing life of an anti-Black and settler colonial order, where trans feminine life and resistance continue under conditions set by logics of sexual violence, murder, disappearance, and the carcerality of everyday life. In this scene of ongoing dispossession, settler states offer “trans inclusion.” Agents of this state position legislation such as the trans bathroom bills as the representative form of anti-trans violence and recommend legal challenges. As important as these legal efforts are in protecting trans access to public space, delimiting trans struggle to the promise of inclusion in state protection is revealed to be an effort to conscript trans people into the reproduction of the settler nation that is structured by enslavement, genocide, and bureaucratic and carceral enforcement of cisness.

There is an absence of systematic evidence internationally on the extent of police violence, including lethal violence, against people with disabilities and mental ill-health. However, we know from individual cases and research data that the problem is extensive. Some of the most well-known police killings in the US which spurred the BLM movement involved Black Americans with disabilities, as has also been the case with deaths of Indigenous, Black, and people of colour in Canada and Australia. There is extensive police intervention into the lives of people with mental ill-health and cognitive impairments, and policing is a key part of the disablist processes of state control. The policing of disability is not a new phenomenon, but it has intensified with the neoliberal contraction of social support and the growth of the carceral state. Further, police decisions affecting people with disabilities compound through the carceral system, often justifying more extreme legal measures. As will be evident in this chapter, it is impossible to conceptualise policing without understanding its dis/abling effects. Centring disability is fundamental to the Defund the Police project and abolitionism more generally.

Much of the violence, social, and racial marginalization associated with downtown urban neighborhoods in the last forty years, exacerbated post-Covid, can be traced back to histories of targeted dispossession masked as urban redevelopment during those decades. This paper examines the dynamics of dispossession, disinvestment, and displacement in the context of the Tenderloin, an under-resourced downtown area in San Francisco.It focuses on the intersection of Turk and Taylor Streets in the Tenderloin as the site of a speculative design proposal aiming to reverse the erasure of Tenderloin’s activist past and the cultures of the queer and trans people who consider it home. The intersection was the site of a queer grassroots uprising against police brutality, the Compton’s Cafeteria Riot of 1966. The riot at Compton’s was spearheaded by street youth and gender-nonconforming people and occurred three years before the Stonewall Riot in New York which typically marks the beginning of the modern LGBTQ rights movement. As such, its symbolism extends far beyond the Tenderloin. Today, the three-story building that housed Compton’s Cafeteria at street level and a residential hotel above is operated as a halfway house by GEO Group, a for-profit prison company that also operated broadly criticized children detention spaces on the US-Mexico border.At a time when advances in LGBTQ rights during the last three decades are increasingly facing political and policy obstacles nationwide, Compton’s legacy and the building’s current use demonstrate American society’s enduring perception of specific bodies, especially those of queer, transgender, and non-binary people of color, as urban interlopers. Moreover, these bodies don’t fit mainstream representations of queerness as a predominantly white, middle-class, consumerist culture.