Her name is Linda Dominguez. That is her name. It might not be the name she was born with (though she provided officers with that too), but it is her legal name. And NYPD officers harassed her for it and tried to say she was lying.
What Happened
In 2018, Linda, a Latina transgender woman, got off the bus and crossed a park after it was closed. Other people were doing the same, but the police singled her out, arrested her, and took her to the 44th precinct. When she arrived, she spoke to an officer in her native Spanish (previously relaying that she only understood some English and spoke broken bits of it) and provided her current legal name, her previous name, birth date, and address. All of this information was correct. The next day she learned she was being charged with criminal trespass for the crossing the park in the dark after hours and “false personation,” which means police were arguing that she “knowingly misrepresented [her] actual name” in an attempt to misguide the police.
The night in jail, however, was wrought with abuse and harassment. She was not only isolated from the rest of the jail population, but she was also the only one cuffed to a bar inside the cell. With pink handcuffs. Rich Lockhard, a spokesman for the Kansas City Police Department, in a response to a query re: pink handcuffs used by KCPD, mentioned that different colored handcuffs were “purely to keep the handcuffs separate.” While this could also be tied metaphorically to how police kept Linda separate, it was likely consciously used as a commentary on Linda’s gender identity. Moreover, officers frequently misidentified Linda by calling her by her old first name and intentionally misgendering her, which is a crime in New York, and making inappropriate gestures and targeted jokes/laughter.
The charges were dropped in August 2018, and the ACLU subsequently sued the City of New York on her behalf. They argue that the “false personification” charge was unnecessary and that the harassment Linda faced left her with an overwhelming fear of police and other “unspecified damages.” As of April 2019, the case status is still filed.
Understanding Her Story's Importance and Theory Application
Though Linda’s story can best be understood by examining it through an intersectional lens (see below), initial reflections speaks to the notion of what womanhood entails. With society’s rigid conceptions womanhood, Linda did not meet the officers’ definition on what a “women” looked like (and for that matter, neither that of a “man”), and they treated her like an in-between human, complete with a sort of personal purgatory, harassing her as both a woman and a man. What this tells women, especially transgender women of color, is that if they do not conform to a man's expectations, they can and will be abused and embarrassed. This is unacceptable.
Through intersectionality, we the intersections of race/ethnicity, gender, and gender identity come into play. At a member of the Latino community, Linda was already more likely to be targeted by police than her white counterparts. As a woman, she was already more likely to be harassed by male police officers (and men in general). And as a transgender woman, she was already more likely to have inadequate care in any facility, namely a jail here. All of these came together, and Linda was unlawfully targeted for a low-level crime with disproportionate enforcement and harassed for both identifying as a woman (with pink handcuffs) and having a male original name (with misidentification and misgendering). ACLU senior staff attorney Gabriel Arkles is quoted as saying that "Police misconduct towards LGBTQ people, especially trans women of color, has a long history in this city and this country, both before and after Stonewall."
Moreover, we see more the statistics of what happened to Linda on a larger scale for her community and police interactions. The Advocate quotes a 2015 survey that found 61 percent of transgender participants endured “some form of harassment or mistreatment by police,” with 58 percent expressing discomfort and distrust in calling police for help. Moreover, the Advocate also notes that a 2017 report “found that most officers across New York City had still not been trained” with 2012 updates to the guidelines in how to treat LGBTQ+ members; the report goes on to say that “between 2012 and 2016 only six of NYPD’s 77 precincts” underwent LGBTQ+ and TGNC training.
We can analyze consequences of this through bell hooks’ notion of the double bind, a choice between multiple (typically two, hence “double”) identities and undesirable consequences of choosing one. We can understand that this means that should a trans individual (or other member of the LGBTQ+ community), especially one of color like Linda, ever feel like they need the police, they must decide what that could look like for them. They risk the police misinterpreting (accidentally or intentionally) the situation and targeting or otherwise harassing them, especially women. They risk not being taken seriously. They risk not receiving adequate care, which is all too often the case.
Lastly, we can look at the juxtaposition of Linda’s invisibility and hypervisibility, from Asian American and Black feminisms respectively. Yamada’s reflections on being invisible despite being vocal about her oppressions mirror Linda’s invisibility despite her being vocal about her name and her identity. All the while, she was also subjected to the hypervisibility from the officers’ extra measures to ensure that she stood out for the identities they chose to not respect. So Linda was seen, but not for who she is.
What Next?
The City of New York has arguably taken steps to address the issues presented by Linda’s case. However, the NYPD has failed to implement them across all precincts and does not adequately address complaints made in this regard. I would argue this dismissal stems from a societal lack of acceptance towards the LGBTQ+ community, especially transgender women of color. So, we can and should actively validate their existence and their inherent worth. Though they should automatically be seen as the whole humans they are, some people need do personal training on the LGBTQ community, much like many white individuals need training to understand communities of color.
To start though, we can say her name. It’s Linda Dominguez. It’s originally a German name with meanings including “soft” and “mild,” yet she’s anything but. She’s a survivor. She’s a fighter. She’s an advocate. And she’s not stopping any time soon.
So Say Her Name.
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