6 Years Since Ahmaud Arbery’s Tragic Killing, My Disability Justice Fight Drags On

Earlier this week, the 6-year anniversary of Ahmaud Arbery's tragic killing passed. If you are unaware of his heartbreaking story, this Black man was out for a run when 3 white men with pickup trucks chased and cornered him on the outskirts of town, before killing him with 3 shotgun blasts, as seen in a graphic cell phone video, which was leaked months later.

Unfortunately, I still have not received my Chirp Contour device given that the company does not deliver it to Canada (despite multiple emails coordinating an invoice for my purchase of the device, which required my shipping address), so I remain in a great deal of pain as I await UPS delivery of the device from my friend in Michigan, to whose home, it had to be shipped. Especially since last week's reprint of my Audre Lorde essay from the She Series anthology has surpassed 209 reads (which means that only my Disability Justice Revolution and Zohran Mamdani Critique newsletter posts have been viewed more), I am sharing another previously published essay, as I continue to honour my access needs as a disabled trauma survivor.

Since my memoir essay, "A Slow Death in Academia," as first published in 2020, in the Radical: An Unapologetic Anthology by Women and Gender Non-Conforming Storytellers of Color anthology, references Ahmaud Arbery's killing by white supremacists, I am using this opportunity to amplify the foundation his mother established in his honour, and encourage generous donations, if able to support this work.

A Slow Death in Academia by Krystal Kavita Jagoo

I hear the ding from my laptop that is usually matched with a spike in my anxiety since reconciling that the institution I work for was trying to micromanage me out the door. As I scroll through my emails, I cannot help but roll my eyes: the entire department was being invited to attend a mandatory webinar on Anti-East Asian Racism. While heartbreaking stories from my East Asian students mean that I am unlikely to learn anything new, I have heard enough uninformed opinions from white colleagues to believe that this training is rightfully mandatory for them. I just desperately hope that these panelists will have more insight than the white director who had the audacity to say in a presentation that he would never be a "slave to precedent."

As that mandatory webinar approached, I thought about how my employer used the guise of "education" to regularly subject BIPOC folx to trauma, particularly, as a condition of our employment. Equipped with well-researched facts and equity theorists' quotes, I sent email after email and participated in discussion after discussion about the adverse effects of these mandatory meetings and webinars on marginalized employees. Despite my emails and discussions, the largely white "leadership" decided to maintain the problematic status quo that disproportionately gaslights, silences, and derails BIPOC folx who think critically about systemic oppression. In the end, they choose to continue harming us marginalized folx just to bring some sliver of awareness to often willfully ignorant fuckers. Despite no shortage of frustration in my work with colleagues as an Accessibility Advisor, it was truly a gift to support students with disabilities in completing their undergraduate studies with the necessary academic accommodations for equitable outcomes.

Despite receiving the invitation weeks ago, I had not RSVPed for the debrief that was scheduled for immediately following the webinar. It was organized by the "Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion" Committee, in whom I had little faith, given how model minorities and white queers continued to fail Black folx in the academic-industrial complex daily. Thankfully, my student appointment ended early, allowing me a moment of reprieve before the webinar.

I entered my kitchen and glanced at the fridge's contents. Due to the pandemic and the consequential constraints of running errands, the shelves were borderline bare. I picked up the last two eggs from the door and grabbed the almost empty grated cheese container before quickly throwing together a cheesy omelet and toast. I was thankful for the small mercy-an opportunity to nourish myself before the webinar. I hoped the snack might at least help fend off a hunger headache, given how little control I had over the migraines that developed from disproportionate labor demands-especially those to maintain "professionalism" in a poisoned work environment.

Between bites, I recalled countless traumatizing workplace interactions at this institution of higher learning-one, by the way, that gives credibility to domestic terrorist, Jordan Peterson. Although I survived them, I often felt as if my heart was going to burst out of my chest with rage. In those instances, I took as many deep breaths as I could manage. I reminded myself of my 100% successful meeting statistics, based on the single criteria of refraining from cussing out colleagues at my day job despite how often they assaulted me with problematic statements.

Over two years ago, at my first Clinical Consultation meeting in the previous department, I remember making my way across campus with enthusiasm to meet colleagues with whom I envisioned working towards student-centred mental health treatment plans. In the casual introductions before the meeting formally began, I was asked which college site I was responsible for. As I responded, this older white man zealously informed me, "Do you know they have a secret society there?" Before I could reply with more than "Really?", he continued, "Some consider it racist, but the administration does not agree!" It was in the seconds following his statement that I understood how I had only been able to infiltrate that system due to assumptions from insignificantly insightful individuals that I was a model minority. I swallowed hard to allow myself a moment of strategy to regain my composure, before stating that I suspect the administration may largely not be personally impacted by racism as some of us are. While my model minority director vigorously nodded her head, along with the psychologist under her supervision, I had internally reconciled that I could never prioritize proximity to whiteness for the sake of increased compensation at the expense of BIPOC folx, like these fellow Asian women had. As I looked at these "therapy professionals", I strategized within the core of my being that I would steel myself to maintain that veneer for what felt like the longest six months necessary to pass probation until I could count on the "security" of a unionized full time job.

Thankfully, that awful meeting was a department ago from this moment in front of my laptop, entering the Zoom webinar space from my home. It was unclear how much engagement was expected, but I had my reusable water bottle full to the brim, given how skilled I had become at shoving it in my mouth-a tactic necessary to maintain employment when faced with inappropriate statements from those with more power. I forced myself to focus on the Zoom screen in front of me, as it cycled through various configurations, including boxes with individual faces to the agenda, land acknowledgement, and bios of panelists, with such buzz words as "equity" and "cultural competence". In this way, I was introduced to a panel of folx from various East Asian backgrounds, including a psychiatrist, a lawyer, a physiotherapist, a medical student, and an endocrinologist. From the cognitive dissonance of these model minorities and concomitant disbelief that they did not benefit from such assumptions, I knew to expect fuckery.

As the East Asian panelists expressed frustration at the lack of solidarity from other racialized folx, they engaged in Anti-Black erasure, thereby making it clear that their job titles bestowed enough credibility for their lack of insight to have any repercussions whatsoever. As is often the case in group interactions at my day job, disengaging from what passes for progress is an act of survival for me. In the academic-industrial complex, disengaging helps to reduce the odds that my hypervigilance will identify every triggering syllable for rumination with frustration later. In doing so during this webinar, I will readily admit that I lack the exact details of the vitriol spouted when the medical student panelist experienced racism and xenophobia on a recent run.

Especially as this took place shortly after Ahmaud Arbery's murder by two white men while out running, my earlier snack gurgled in my stomach to hear another panelist's cognitively dissonant statement that "covert racism hurts just as much." Multiple dead Black folx would disagree, could they still speak, that is. I was seething by the time my computer screen was finally free of those infuriating model minority faces.

Despite my frustration, I was at least grateful to be at home, with my video settings off, as opposed to attending this event in person. If all else failed, I told myself that I could log off and claim technical issues. As I commiserated with a more unimpressed BIPOC colleague via text, I RSVPed for the departmental debriefing to follow. It was my ethical responsibility to draw attention to the inherent anti-Blackness shared and exchanged throughout that mandatory webinar. As I reviewed my notes in preparation for what fresh fuckery awaited me, I reminded myself that my relative privilege as a NBPOC who directly benefits from the work of Black folx in the civil rights movement demanded that I work hard to repay those debts.

During our MS Teams debrief, my department did not disappoint, from the leadership team to the frontline staff with their ever-present absence of insight. Poorly informed white folx shared praise for all they had learned, at the expense of additional trauma for our more oppressed staff. My concerns of the inherent anti-Blackness of a panel's focus on Anti-East Asian Racism without even a sentence of context regarding how that compares to the much worse experiences of Black folx was met with obligatory polite thanks for my feedback that has never led to change. It felt as if their gaslighting might progress so far as to allege that me calling the panelists model minorities was an anti-East Asian hate crime! Had I not been intimately familiar with the act of gaslighting, I might have been surprised. While not all children have to survive a toxic mother, some of us learn life-affirming strategy from it, which helps in moments like this.

I waited until the departure of the Director and Assistant Director from my Zoom screen, as my body now knew to be on guard with flight, fight, and freeze responses in their presence from their incessant targeting over the last year, although they probably continued to wish I would fawn instead. As I looked at this Zoom screen box with my model minority colleague, who had once expressed delight at my nickname of White Whisperer for her, I explained that, as an "equity office", we have a responsibility to confront anti-Blackness within the medical-industrial complex. I shed light on the public health crisis whereby Black life is disrupted at disproportionately higher rates, including "discipline" in schools, apprehensions by "child welfare", and police brutality, which often results in loss of life, as if violently stolen labor for centuries was not enough. The research. tells us that Black children are still not receiving much-needed pain medication for appendicitis, and Black folx are dying at higher rates than their white peers in pregnancy, and those issues are directly related to such attitudes from these East Asian panelists. 

If you missed my free/donations-welcome Disability Justice 101 session last month, you are still welcome to join us for the launch of my next free/ donations-welcome workshop, Access is Love: Weaving Words for Liberation, for which, we will focus on bell hooks' love ethic, as scheduled for 7-9pm EST on Saturday, February 28, 2026, in honour of beloved disabled ancestors like Alice Wong, Patty Berne, Tinu Abayomi-Paul, Shafiqah Hudson, Stacey Park Milbern, Ki'tay D. Davidson, Ruby Goorahoo, Audre Lorde, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, etc. whose crucial DJ work still inform mine.

This institution from which a white woman who said the N-word in a "Social Work" classroom gets to graduate with the same degree as the triggered Black students who were later accused of making white folx uncomfortable for eating lunch elsewhere would only further disgust me. Three days following the inappropriate webinar and worthless debrief, thousands gathered in Toronto to protest police-involved anti-Black violence that resulted in the death of 29-year-old Regis Korchinski-Paquet. After Korchinski-Paquet's murder, this same hypocritical institution issued statements of solidarity with BLM, as if I were not just seen as the social problem of the department for highlighting the anti-Blackness in that mandatory work webinar.

As I write this, I have not yet returned to my day job, as debilitating pain prevents that since a three-month-long disruption of my twice-weekly Chiropractic treatment due to a global pandemic, so it is that much harder for me to bite my tongue when needed to keep my job. Thankfully, supporting Black folx inundated by social media posts that assault their humanity informally is something I can at least do from the relative comfort of my bed, even as my head throbs with a migraine after sleep wins another night's game of hide-and-seek. Yet I did not need research to tell me that white folx sleep better than their BIPOC peers, because I am subjected to their willful ignorance daily so that they can maintain such slumber. At this moment, the brilliance of Zora Neale Hurston reminds me, "If you are silent about your pain, they'll kill you and say you enjoyed it" so I prioritize my humanity and that of my loved ones above all else.

Krystal Kavita Jagoo is a social worker, committed to anti-oppressive practice. She has worked for three academic institutions across Canada, in such roles as Graduate Assistant, Adjunct Faculty, Wellness Counselor and Coordinator, and Accessibility Advisor. Her work has been featured in Huffington Post Personal, Social Justice Solutions, and o.School. Her essay, "Inclusive Reproductive Justice," was published in Volume 2 of the Reproductive Justice Briefing Book: A Primer on Reproductive Justice and Social Change.

***Updated to reflect that the author is no longer a registered social worker, as of  2025, since losing all respect for the Ontario College of Social Workers and Social Service Workers after they failed to even call for a ceasefire despite witnessing intensified Palestinian genocide throughout 2024. After 15 years, and $4,375 in annual fees she could desperately use in the aftermath of ableist white supremacist workplace harassment, gender-based violence (GBV), etc., her name is no longer followed by "RSW" in 2026. Nonetheless, she retains 15 years of experience in such roles as Mental Health Therapist, Sessional Faculty, Accessibility Advisor, Artist, etc., which still informs her work as an equity practitioner and educator.***

This February session will be framed around bell hooks' All About Love: New Visions, which can be viewed as a free PDF here, because after this author's ex drains her of $183,364+ to the point of where she is so disabled from his gender-based violence and repeated white supremacist workplace trauma that she is considering a medically assisted death, she has to return to the basics to ensure that she does her best to warn her beloved BIPOC LGBTQIA+ disabled communities how she only wishes his earlier victims had warned her.

While you are welcome to read the entire book, please know that both bell hooks' experts and those who are only newcomers to her brilliance are equally welcome at the session, as I can write an entire set of encyclopedia about men who I never even had reason to take to Red Lobster, whose statements about love proved as believable as Donald Trump deserving a peace prize! 🤡

While I continue to offer free spots, my monthly Disability Justice workshops are made possible by generous donations from paid Ko-fi subscribers, so please consider supporting my DJ work here, if able to contribute financially.

If new to my virtual spaces, I give registrants the 1st 5 minutes to arrive before starting, but generally continue to let folx in until the end. Usually, materials are emailed at least a day before, should advance access aid with feeling comfortable to participate. Attendees are welcome to engage on their own terms, i.e., with no implicit expectation of being on camera, communicating verbally or in the chat, etc. Around the halfway point, a 15-minute-long break is facilitated, after which participants are invited to explore a writing prompt during designated quiet time of 10-20 minutes, depending on preferences. Once the timer ends, participants are invited to share what they wrote or discuss how the process went for them, based on capacity, comfort, interest, vibes, etc. Throughout the workshop, my approach is consent-based, i.e., folx are encouraged to read slides, share feedback, etc., and only those who volunteer to do so are invited to engage further, as there is no pressure to participate beyond one's capacity.

If able to contribute to my survival following my ex's financial abuse of at least $183,364, which further disabled me, alongside white supremacist workplace trauma, e-transfers within "Canada" may be sent to krystaljagoo@gmail.com and funds may be sent via PayPal below, so please consider supporting me! 🙏🏾

BTW, on the off chance that you are looking for a gifted equity practitioner and educator for virtual services like writing, facilitation, and consulting, you are welcome to peruse my CV below, and explore my services here.