We end this month’s blog entry at the beginning: On Monday, May 1, 2023, Jordan Neely was murdered on the F train in Manhattan. His murder is effectively a public lynching that you can watch on youtube if you have the stomach for it. I don’t. I’ve witnessed enough.
It often feels like not a week goes by without a racially motivated murder of a Black person. It’s been hard to keep track of the names: Breonna, Tony, Amhaud, Trayvon, Jordan. A recent study in the Journal of the American Medical Association found that Black people in the United States “experienced more than 1.63 million excess deaths and more than 80 million excess years of life lost” in comparison to white people. The collective trauma of being a Black person and continually adding to the rolodex of names of our people who are not here is overwhelming, to say the least. Overwhelming is an understatement, but it’s the only word I have right now.
For many of us, Jordan’s murder is even more difficult because it’s multi-layered: he was a Black man experiencing homelessness with a mental illness. The fact that he was Black, the fact that he was houseless, and that fact that he lived with a mental illness compound on top of each other, ultimately adding to the systemic pressures that led to his death. This was not a systems failure – the systems are doing exactly what they were designed to do. Those in power can dispose of those they find unworthy and protect themselves. Jordan is gone while his murderer walks free. In the aftermath, his death was immediately scapegoated and therefore justified by people who would rather watch the City burn instead of legitimately supporting Black people, people who are houseless, or people with a mental illness in America.
The justification of Jordan’s murder because of his mental illness is not surprising. It’s textbook really. Jordan’s murderer, Daniel Penny, used his mental illness as a scapegoat. As did NYC Mayor Eric Adams. As did NY Governor Kathy Hochul. As if a person were not murdered on an afternoon commute through Manhattan, the Mayor and Governor are using the same scapegoat as an actual murderer. Jordan Neely did not deserve to die because of his mental illness. Using his mental health, his housing status, or his race as a justification for his murder allows for the system to keep functioning as is. For many NYers, it felt like it was only a matter of time before something like this would happen under Mayor Adams.
Since taking office, Mayor Adams has enacted policies that have exacerbated inequities in NYC, including forcing people experiencing homelessness to go into hospitals (if they refuse, they will be arrested) and adding 500 additional police officers to the MTA. Mayor Adams is playing the poor man’s Morpheus: in one hand he has a blue pill labeled “forced hospitalization,” and in the other hand he has a red pill labeled “Rikers Island.” This is a false dichotomy; neither will actually help people get housed. This is the same failed policies of “treatment vs incarceration” enacted by a cop who became the Mayor of one of the most populus cities in the world.
To follow up bad with worse, he’s stalling on the plan to close Rikers Island, effectively committing more New Yorkers to sickness and potential death if detained there. Since Mayor Adams took office, 21 people have died in NYC jails. Last week, Katal Center confronted Mayor Adams on his inaction in closing Rikers Island. You can join them by taking action using their online action tool to close Rikers here, and by getting involved in their campaign here. Even more damning, just yesterday it was revealed that DOC Commissioner Louis Molina pleaded with the federal monitor to not release a report that highlights how incarcerated people at Rikers are “at imminent risk” of harm. Make no mistake – this was an attempted cover up of his, and Mayor Adams, complete disregard of the lives of incarcerated NYers.
As we deal with Mayor Adams, Governor Hochul, and the Daniel Penny’s of the world, I think about the core of all of this – a life was lost, taken by the same system that’s keeping Rikers open while gutting other essential services to the City.
Lately I’ve been wondering: if cell phones were available during Reconstruction, do you think pictures of lynchings of Black people would have been shared over text messages? Would people make their favorite lynching compilations on youtube? Would the screams of my ancestor’s be trending sounds on tik tok? Would people sneak into asylums and broadcast it on their podcast? Would people prank those living in poor houses for their latest reel on instagram?
The answer is yes. It has, and in many ways, it’s currently happening.
After the initial report on Jordan’s murder, I neglected to say anything. I was too enraged on multiple layers: as a Black person, as a native-New Yorker, as a person with loved ones who live with a mental illness, as a human being. I fired off a twitter thread shortly after I learned of it, but my reasoning for keeping silent was two-fold.
First, I didn’t want to add to the cacophony of voices calling his name. There are times for that, and there are times to be reflective. I did not want to speak his name without being clear on what I was feeling. After reflecting, I’m clear on what I’m feeling now. Anger.
The second reason why I neglected to say anything was because I met Jordan Neely. The minute his photo was released, I knew who he was because I have a photo of him on my computer. Much like the countless others who have spoken up about Jordan’s character, meeting him was one of the most impactful moments for me of that year. So much so that I kept his photo on my phone for over a decade.
In the summer of 2010, my mother and I went to Times Square on a whim and met Jordan outside of Madame Tussauds. The details of why we were at 40 deuce has long since escaped me, but what hasn’t escaped me was the 20 minute conversation we had with him.
Jordan was effervescent, his smile deeply contagious. We talked about living in NYC, being native New Yorkers, and what Michael Jackson meant for him. MJ had passed away the year prior, and 18-year-old me was still in mourning over him to be honest. The conversation was so great that I asked him for a picture. Being from NYC, street performers are a dime a dozen. I never really took many photos of them, but something compelled me to do that with Jordan. I had to. I moved out of NY a few months after I took that photo, and I often looked at it to bring me joy whenever I was down. It was a reminder of my home, of a day with Mum, and the joy brought to me by this enigmatic performer. I kept that photo on my phone until 2021, only after I started running out of storage on an old phone and needed more space.
When the news dropped that the person who had been murdered on the train was a Michael Jackson impersonator, I thought nothing of it. There are hundreds of MJ impersonators in NYC. As photos of him were released, I frantically searched through my computer for that photo of him over a decade ago. After lots of tears (and shots if I’m honest), I realized that the man whose picture had brought me so much joy over the years was the same man murdered on the train. If you had told 18-year-old me that the person I met outside Madame Tussauds would be murdered on the train, I would have told you to fuck off.
Sometimes, life is cruel.
The anger that has swallowed me whole doesn’t even begin to describe the deep seeded rage inside me.
If you’re angry like me, follow the words of Mariame Kaba: let this radicalize you.
Justice will not be found in a courtroom, conviction, or cell. Justice would be if Jordan was still here, and if we didn’t live in a culture that creates the conditions to publicly kill Black people, people experiencing homelessness, or people living with a mental illness. Only by dismantling the systems that create these conditions will we actually live without this threat. Through abolition. Through building and destroying. Through sustaining movements that are not just reactive, but organized and proactive.
Start in your community. Build. Grow. Organize.
If you’re looking for organizations to get involved with, start with the Katal Center and their campaign to close Rikers Island.
For Jordan, and for all of us.