There is no such thing as a “false” allegation

February 13th, 2017. I found myself sitting in a brightly lit conference room filled with a veritable rainbow of multicultural influencers, entrepreneurs, and social media superstars. We had gathered together as part of Wake Up Akron’s annual celebration of our successes in making our community more decent. But the mood was much less than celebratory. A dark pall hung in the air.

The evening before, Beyonce had been cheated. Her album Lemonade, the greatest work of art in the whole of human history, had only won a single, solitary Grammy. Her rightful status as Greatest Artist in the World had been stolen from her by Adelle, a white, cis-gendered woman who would go on to commit genocide against her own body.

More infuriating, Lemonade had not even been nominated for several awards. The primarily white, primarily male, primarily cogno-normative selection committee decided instead to perpetuate the racist myth that a black hip-hop artist cannot be nominated for “Best Rock Album,” “Best Country Album,’ or even “Best Improvised Jazz Solo.” This in spite of the fact that rock and roll was invented by a black, disabled, genderfluid woman with AIDS.

The tension in that conference room was palpable. We were all still reeling, trying desperately to come to terms with the violence that had been committed the night before. I would not have even gotten out of bed if I had not known how much my trans and disabled allies needed me that day.

Then came the introductory speech from Wak Up Akron’s chairperson, Vincent Brubaker. Vincent is black man, and so many of us had wrongly considered him an ally. This was a very naïve time, back before we had realized that black men are actually the straight white males of the PoC community.

Vincent began talking. About what, I cannot remember. All I know is that before discussing Beyonce, he introduced himself. He. Introduced. Him. Self.

I could not believe what I was hearing. A minute passed. Two minutes. Three minutes.

It wasn’t until he was nearly 345 words into his hateful screed that Vincent even mentioned Beyonce.

But it was much worse than that. Did he decry the violence that had been committed? Did he demand a boycott of Grammys until they had apologized for their murderous actions, rescinded all awards that had been given to other artists, and rightfully placed Queen B upon her throne?

No. Not even close. He instead congratulated her on her victory and moved on to discussing another, selfish topic.

I could feel my heart tearing in two. The anger of a million murdered slaves entered my soul. I fought the strong urge to sob or scream, knowing that my allies needed me to remain calm. I fought to hold in the pain, the anguish, the disgust. Each of Vincent’s hateful words pierced my soul like poisoned darts, causing literal genetic and cellular damage. I began to shake. Tears ran down my face.

But I stayed silent.

Next to me sat Chlamydia Dupree, a brilliant trans woman of color who has authored several amazing self-help books and would go to become Scentsy’s 73rd most productive recruiter in the greater Akron area. She offered me a tissue and whispered into my ear to ask what was wrong.

“Be-Beyonce,” I muttered. “He — he hasn’t mentioned how she was cheated.”

“Don’t worry about right now, sugar,” she said. “We have to wait for our chance. Sometimes, justice is a dish best served cold.”

Chlamydia’s wise words gave me the strength to maintain, to breathe, to exist. I sucked in my anger and held it tight like a ball of a fire. Vincent would be put in his place. But it would have to wait.

Consulting with an attorney the following Monday, I was informed that Vincent had not technically broken any laws. This is when I began the long process of getting educated about the horrors of the American criminal justice system.

You may have already learned that all American police began as slavecatchers. Before slaves started to create their own emancipation, there were no laws in America. Once slaveowners realized the bomb of fierceness that was fermenting beneath the slave’s chains, they panicked. White people were given the “authority” to murder to maintain our racist system. And this authority maintains to this day

Every American law in rooted in white supremacy, and white supremacy is literally the only driving force behind every law. Speed limits, jaywalking restrictions, health codes: all of these achieve only the goal of enhancing the comfort of mediocre white males.

Because of this, there is no such thing as an “incorrect” way of engaging with the law. The system is illegitimate. A vulnerable person — and their allies, like myself — literally cannot abuse the legal system, as this system was designed only to destroy them.

Armed with this knowledge, I began a yearslong quest to give Vincent Brubaker the punishment that he deserved. This was not cancel culture, because cancel culture does not exist. This was accountability. He committed a horrible act of violence on that grave February morn. I could not rest until he was forced to learn his lesson.

I began placing anonymous calls to the police complaining about violent screams coming from Vincent’s house. I distributed a letter to his employers and family accusing him of past acts of violence. There was no need for me to lie. I was not lying. He had committed violence. But I knew their minds were too narrow to understand what that violence actually entailed, so I had to leave things vague.

Eventually, after the tenth call, the police raided Vincent’s home. They found a small amount of marijuana in his son’s bedroom and arrested him immediately. He was summarily fired from his job and removed from his position of Wake Up Akron’s spokesperson. In their letter announcing his removal, the leadership board mentioned having received several complaints about his past history of violence.

I am pleased to say that just yesterday, Vincent Brubaker ended his wretched, cowardly life. My only regret is that he did not experience more punishment.

Now, I know what you’re thinking — no, I do not consider myself a hero. I just regular folk like y’all. I am a father, a husband, and an ally. And I will do whatever it takes to pursue justice in this world. While I’d never tell a woman, trans person, disabled person, PoC, genderqueer, nonbinary, indigenous, or two spirit person how to behave, I hope all of my white, male readers will follow in my lead.

The next time you see injustice, act. If you don’t, you are just as guilty as Vincent.