There’s a certain kind of mistrust that Black queer women are all too familiar with. It’s not always explicit. It manifests in hesitancy, “both sides” frameworks, and systems that require us to prove over and over again that we deserve safety.
We see that distrust happening now with respect to a Temporary Protection Order (TPO) involving an individual named D. Pasha. He is accused of repeatedly harassing Capital Pride Alliance staff, board members and volunteers, and the organization has sought protection from the courts.
Capital Pride Alliance did not seek this order lightly. They spent more than a year documenting his harassment, and several witnesses testified for nearly two hours about a pattern of behavior that caused genuine fear. The organization also spent months considering how to legally protect its staff, volunteers, board members and contractors from this person.
Initially, the court agreed, issuing an eviction order that included the CPA’s offices and other locations, and establishing clear boundaries to protect staff, volunteers, and community members.
However, that protection did not last long.
After the order was issued, Pasha spoke with a Washington Blade reporter and learned that the CPA was sharing office space with the LGBTQ Center in Washington, D.C. It is important to note that he did not know this detail until now. He then asked for an emergency hearing, arguing that he needed access to “vital services” from the shared offices of the CPA and the D.C. LGBTQ Center.
The court agreed and granted access with less than 24 hours notice to the CPA. According to the court, the amendment was based on Mr. Pasha’s argument that denying him admission to the D.C. Center would deprive him of access to important support services provided there. Although the CPA objected, emphasizing that he had not used the service recently and that alternatives were available, the court found that his stated need for the service justified an exception to the stay-at-home order.
Let’s clarify what this means.
There is no record of him receiving services or being at the DC LGBTQ Center for more than a year. Many organizations across Washington, D.C., are providing the same services he cited – food, clothing, computers, Wi-Fi – without placing him near the people who testified against him.
Nevertheless, the court amended the order to acknowledge just that.
Then it escalated. After the change, he sent over 20 emails and text messages attempting to gain access to our office space, causing another emergency hearing. At its second emergency hearing, the court upheld its previous decision and allowed Mr. Pasha to continue accessing the scene.
This is not a technical issue. This is a real protection failure.
The outcome depended not only on the courtroom, but also on subsequent developments.
Recent coverage has centered on the acceptance of less restrictive orders, giving those at the center of the case a chance to define the story on their own terms. He was identified as an LGBTQ activist and was quoted at length, including his name, voice and image, including statements such as “I’m happy with what we’ve accomplished so far,” “Even if I lose this case, I’m glad I spoke out,” and “The truth will come out.”
That framework does not exist in a vacuum. It omits important context regarding the pattern of behavior that led to this case, including the history and events that followed the court’s initial order. We also give weight to claims about access to services that are not reflected in actual usage.
At the same time, hours of testimony describing patterns of behavior that caused fear, severe alarm, and psychological distress are reduced to just a small part of the story. Most of the people who have come forward have never been named, seen or heard of. The records built in the courtroom are condensed and the story unfolds.
It is not balance when one side is given visibility, voice, and narrative while the other side is reduced to a summary. It’s a distortion.
We also need to be honest about who bears the consequences of that failure.
Two Black queer women testified. They followed the process. They showed up, told the truth, and trusted the system to do its job of protecting them.
Instead, the system created a pathway back to proximity, back to fear.
It’s not a neutral outcome. It’s a choice about whose safety is most important and whose safety may be compromised.
This is not an isolated incident. This reflects a broader pattern of how the system fails Black women, survivors, and LGBTQ+ people, especially at the intersections of these identities.
According to the Human Rights Campaign, more than 60% of bisexual women and 40% of lesbian women have experienced physical violence or stalking.
Violence doesn’t start with murder. It starts with systems that ignore, minimize and do not act fairly or quickly when harm is reported.
It starts with people questioning the authenticity of Black queer women.
When access is granted to those who cause fear, rather than protection being fully extended to those experiencing fear.
And it continues when we treat these consequences not as unacceptable but as unfortunate.
Capital Pride Alliance believes in access. we invest in it. We help maintain the very services cited in this lawsuit. But access cannot come at the expense of safety, especially when alternatives exist and the risks are known.
The question here is not complicated. What does protection actually mean and who deserves it?
If a court recognizes harm but recognizes proximity, is that protection?
What message does it send when Black queer women testify and are still within sight of those who testified?
We cannot continue to call these systems fair if they continue to put the same people at risk.
Courts need to think about safety in a broader sense that reflects real life, rather than simply following procedures. This means looking not just at direct threats, but also at ongoing harassment and intimidation, and the real fear survivors feel when they have to share space with those who have harmed them.
Practical changes could include ensuring trespass orders are enforced even in shared spaces, working with community groups to provide alternative ways to access services, and asking survivors about their safety needs before modifying protection orders. Courts should also receive training on the experiences of Black queer women and LGBTQ+ survivors, so their voices and realities are central to decisions.
Our communities need to work towards true safety and protection. Because visibility without safety is not liberation. A protection that can be removed so easily is no protection at all.
May 28th is LGBTQ+ Domestic Violence Awareness Day.
#SeenAndBelieved is a call to action to recognize the harm, trust survivors, and build systems that truly protect them.
June Crenshaw I am the COO of Capital Pride Alliance.
Source: Washington Blade: LGBTQ News, Politics, LGBTQ Rights, Gay News – www.washingtonblade.com
