The Violence of Corruption: How Minneapolis Targets Black Women Who Demand Accountability

Council Member Wonsley is attempting to move nearly $1 million in violence prevention funding out of the NSD and over to Hennepin County for GVI/YGVI services — all before the public can even see the results of the fair and competitive RFP process

Minneapolis, the city that became the epicenter of a global reckoning after the murder of George Floyd, has yet to reckon with its own internal violence — the kind that doesn’t come at the hands of police, but through the insidious and systemic abuse of Black women who dare to lead.

When I stepped into my role as Director of the Neighborhood Safety Department (NSD) in Minneapolis, I came in with a clear mission: to ensure that violence prevention resources were being used effectively and transparently to protect the people of this city. What I found instead was a deeply flawed system where invoices for violence prevention services were being paid without a single shred of documentation to verify expenses. Millions of public dollars, distributed without oversight or accountability, created a system that benefited those who knew how to manipulate it — not the communities most in need.

But when I refused to sign off on undocumented invoices and started demanding proof of services, the retaliation was swift and vicious. City council members, including Council Member Robin Wonsley, a fellow Black woman, harassed me publicly, using the dais in a way that felt not like oversight, but public humiliation. She refused to have conversations with me outside of council meetings, choosing instead to grandstand and attack me in public forums.

Inside the city enterprise, I found no allies because acknowledging my concerns would mean admitting that this system had been allowed to operate unchecked for years. Instead of support, I faced stonewalling, gas lighting, and outright hostility.

When Fixing the Problem Makes You the Problem

Meanwhile, the former director of the Office of Violence Prevention (OVP), also a fellow Black woman, had openly admitted to the media prior to my arrival that she would not be collecting any written documentation of services provided. Instead of outrage, she was met with praise. The city’s newspaper of record, the Star Tribune , was noticeably silent on this issue which only served to amplify this narrative, turning a blatant abuse of public funds into a heroic tale — because the alternative would mean acknowledging the truth. While she was seemingly praised for her decision, I was vilified for insisting on financial accountability.

What was missing from the conversation was the broken procurement process that predated my tenure. Contracts had been awarded under poor procurement practices before I arrived, and my department should not have been penalized for continuing with these pre-existing agreements while we worked to untangle and correct the issues. The bulk of these contracts had been awarded substantial funding amounts without proper oversight, and my efforts were focused on repairing a broken system. Instead of being recognized for these corrective actions, I was attacked for addressing problems that existed long before I stepped into this office. Adding to this injustice was the failure of the city enterprise to make this distinction clear to the public, further fueling the false narratives against me. Despite requesting multiple times to bring this information forward to the public and own the years of not collecting documentation, city leadership opted to stay silent as to not bring more attention to the broken system I was hired to repair. But one thing is undeniable: the policies I put in place to demand accountability are now being implemented — without credit. Less than a month after my resignation, the city announced “enhanced oversight” of violence prevention funding. These enhanced policies were the very framework I left behind — yet my name was erased from the narrative. I was pushed out for doing the job, and then my work was quietly adopted as the standard.

The truth was clear: I was being targeted for doing my job.

The “Whistleblower” Used to Protect Corruption

Then came the so-called “whistleblower.” While whistleblowers typically expose wrongdoing, in this case, the complaint had the effect of deflecting attention away from systemic financial mismanagement and shielding those responsible from deeper scrutiny.

Not someone speaking out against corruption, but someone protecting it. A White woman, she weaponized her complaint not to expose wrongdoing, but to shield it.

She attacked my hiring decisions, questioning why I had hired someone who was, in her words, “not even from this country.” She harassed and undermined this employee until they were pushed out, another casualty of the city’s deep-seated xenophobia and racism. And when I attempted to address these issues — providing training and implementing consequences for racist behavior — I was met with threats, including threats at my own home. My personal safety, and that of my child, was put at risk.

But the attacks didn’t stop with me.

The so-called whistleblower also attacked the Black-led organizations I hired to provide training and accountability around the racism and xenophobia I had witnessed within the office. Every single agency I brought in to do this work was Black-owned and held an intersectional identity — Black and veteran, Black and disabled, Black and female, Black and queer, Black and immigrant. Their expertise and lived experiences made them uniquely qualified to address the harmful workplace culture I was trying to correct, yet they were undermined, discredited, and stripped of their dignity simply for being part of this effort.

Their work was dismissed, their credibility was attacked, and their contracts were scrutinized in ways that white-led organizations had never faced. Despite this, the whistleblower’s statement was taken as credible without question by specific city council members, reinforcing the very systemic biases we were trying to dismantle. Instead of allowing these organizations to bring real change, the city enabled an environment where accountability efforts were met with retaliation, ensuring that the toxic culture remained intact.

Minneapolis’ Pattern of Attacking Black-Led Organizations — And Undermining the Good Ones

Here is where the story takes on a painful and complex truth: some of the violence prevention organizations that were benefiting from this broken system were Black-led and deeply flawed. These organizations had been receiving substantial amounts of funding for years with no documentation, no accountability, and no results to show for it.

But their exploitation did far more damage than just wasting public dollars — it actively undermined the work of the ethical, effective, and mission-driven, Black-led organizations that were in this work for the right reasons.

While some organizations gamed the system, others were on the frontlines trying to save lives. These Black-led organizations, committed to real community safety, were not only shut out of funding but also found their credibility attacked simply because they weren’t willing to play along with the status quo.

I refused to let their work be erased.

I stayed as long as I could to fight alongside the organizations that were in this for the right reasons, the ones that wanted to bring real safety to our neighborhoods. But the system was designed to protect the bad actors and punish anyone — myself included — who stood with those trying to do the real work.

This is not a simple story of Black versus White. This is about power — who holds it, who protects it, and who is willing to destroy those who threaten it.

City Council’s Direct Attempt to Coerce Me Into Misusing Funds

Not only was I expected to sign off on undocumented invoices, but I was also pressured by city council members, particularly Council Member Wonsley, to provide these same organizations with increased funding — with no due process.

City officials demanded that I approve additional money without proper oversight, expecting me to ignore protocol and rubber-stamp funding increases without any justification.

When I refused, the retaliation intensified. I was accused — on the dais — of criminal behavior, despite there being no substantiated or founded allegations. The goal was clear: to destroy my credibility, my career, and my ability to lead.

The Pattern: Minneapolis’ Systematic Destruction of Black Leadership

I am not the first Black leader in Minneapolis to face this kind of abuse.

Time and time again, Black women in leadership positions have been welcomed into roles with promises of change, only to be met with hostility, obstruction, and retaliation the moment they attempt to hold systems accountable.

Across city government, Black women have been undermined, discredited, and pushed out under eerily similar circumstances. Whether leading efforts in racial equity, public safety, or government reform, the pattern remains the same: gaslighting, unfounded accusations, public smearing, and eventual removal.

Reports from racial equity research organizations have documented widespread racial hostility, exclusion, and systemic resistance to the very changes Black professionals are hired to implement. Since the 2020 uprisings following George Floyd’s murder, Minneapolis has claimed to prioritize racial justice, yet within city institutions, Black leaders face relentless opposition, sabotage, and public smearing.

The message is clear: Minneapolis wants the appearance of progress, but not the accountability that real progress demands. The city continues to hire Black women to lead major reform efforts, only to abandon them when they challenge entrenched power structures.

This is not just an attack on individuals — it is a systemic effort to preserve the status quo. And until this city reckons with its deep-seated institutional racism, Black leaders will continue to be set up to fail, discarded, and replaced in a cycle designed to keep real change at bay.

A Former Employee’s Role in Undermining Financial Accountability

The public deserves to know that one of my former employees, Ethrophic Burnett, who for years approved millions of dollars in invoices without requesting documentation, is now running for city council.

Burnett consistently resisted efforts to implement proper financial oversight. In a series of emails between us, I repeatedly asked her why she had never required general ledgers or supporting documentation before approving payments. Her responses failed to justify the lack of oversight, instead deflecting responsibility and expressing frustration over having to implement a basic financial accountability process that should have been in place all along.

Had these invoices been properly reviewed from the beginning, the financial mismanagement plaguing the system could have been addressed long before my tenure. Instead, Burnett’s approach allowed for years of unchecked spending with no accountability. Now, she seeks a position on the city council, where she would be entrusted with even greater financial oversight. The public must ask: Is this the kind of leadership Minneapolis needs?

The Final Insults: The Star Tribune’s False Claims About GVI

In yet another attempt to distort the truth, the Star Tribune falsely reported that the Group Violence Intervention (GVI) program had been halted since 2023. This is false. GVI services have continued daily, and invoices have only been paid for services rendered. The only activity that did not take place was a single annual event known as a “call-in,” which was postponed based on the recommendation of the national technical assistance provider to allow for additional training due to new staff.

This misleading narrative attempts to falsely suggest that I approved payments for non-existent services — a direct contradiction to the work I was fighting to uphold. Meanwhile, the actual financial mismanagement I sought to correct has been ignored.

This is what institutional violence against Black women looks like in Minneapolis. It is not always a knee on the neck. Sometimes, it is the slow suffocation of a system that refuses to acknowledge our worth. It is the coordinated effort to strip us of our dignity, our safety, and our ability to lead. It is the media’s complicity in perpetuating false narratives. It is the relentless attacks from those who are threatened by accountability.

Council Member Wonsley’s Latest Attempt to Bypass Accountability

Now, after all this, Council Member Wonsley is attempting to move nearly $1 million in violence prevention funding out of the NSD and over to Hennepin County for GVI/YGVI services — all before the public can even see the results of the fair and competitive RFP process for GVI/YGVI services that was finally conducted with full compliance.

This move is not about efficiency — it’s about circumventing oversight. If this transfer happens, it will continue funding the same organizations that previously operated with no accountability — but under the guise of a different entity. This is an attempt to sidestep reforms and keep power in the same hands, without the public’s scrutiny.

Minneapolis deserves transparency. Before any money is moved, the public should see the full results of the RFP process. This is not just about me — this is about making sure public safety dollars serve the community, not political interests.

The Bigger Question: Who Will Stand Up?

Minneapolis claims to be a city that values justice. But when a Black woman demands justice within its own walls, she is met with hostility, harassment, and harm.

The violence prevention system I sought to fix was never about preventing violence — it was about protecting power. And in Minneapolis, power is never meant to be held by a Black woman who refuses to be silent.

It is time to ask: What does justice really mean in this city? And who is willing to fight for it when the victims are Black women?

This city cannot continue to call itself a leader in racial justice while allowing its institutions to destroy the very Black women it hires to lead change. It is not enough to speak about equity while weaponizing bureaucracy against those who fight for it.

What happened to me is not an isolated incident. This is the Minneapolis playbook:

1️⃣ Elevate Black women as symbols of progress.
2️⃣ Undermine them when they challenge the status quo.
3️⃣ Erase them once they are gone — while quietly adopting their work.

This isn’t just about my experience. This is a systemic pattern.

So, I ask again : What does justice really mean in this city? And who will fight for it when the victims are Black women?

Minneapolis, it’s time to decide: Do you want change, or just the illusion of it?

• Contact your city council member and demand transparency. Tell them: The public deserves to see the full results of the RFP before any money is moved to Hennepin County. Why is Council Member Wonsley rushing to shift nearly $1 million in funding before the results are made public? What is being hidden from the community? This is an attempt to circumvent accountability — Minneapolis residents deserve answers.
• Show up to Monday’s council meeting. If the council is asking for media presence, the public should be there too. Your tax dollars are at stake — you have a bigger say in how they are spent than the media does.
• Share this story. Demand transparency. Because silence is not an option.

Moving Forward — But Not in Silence

At this point, I want to move on. I have a new role, one where my expertise will be valued rather than attacked, and I am ready to focus on work that makes a real impact. But I refuse to leave without making this truth known:

• The violence I endured was not just political retaliation — it was part of a larger pattern of dehumanization that Black women face every day.
• When institutional violence against Black women is accepted and normalized, it lays the foundation for other forms of violence.
• Dehumanization is the first step toward destruction. This is why Black women go missing, why Black women are murdered, and why the world barely blinks. When a system is willing to erase us professionally, it sends a message that our safety, our voices, and even our lives are expendable.

This isn’t just about me. It’s about a city that claims to value racial justice while using its own institutions to silence Black women who demand real accountability. If Minneapolis truly believes in justice, it cannot keep looking away.

I am moving forward, but Minneapolis must reckon with its own hypocrisy. Because until it does, the cycle will continue — until the next Black woman is brought in, celebrated, then discarded for daring to lead.