It’s been 23 days since June Stokes, Whit Sims, and Josh Robbins publicly left the MOVE Organization, drawing attention to child abuse, death threats, financial corruption, and suspicions about connections between MOVE’s leadership and the murder of John Gilbride. Three days later Sara Robbins and Salina Robbins added their names to the public statement. Four days after that Maria Hardy added her name to the statement. All six of them were born into MOVE, and their experiences of being children in MOVE extend from the 1970s to the early 2000s. Other former members and supporters have signed on as well, but my specific focus for this post is the children who were born into MOVE.
In the over three weeks since Josh, Whit, and June came forward in the group statement, and on the “Murder at Ryan’s Run,” podcast one of the most shocking things has been the media silence. In the past year the Philadelphia Inquirer, Washington Post, The Guardian, The New York Times, and the New Yorker have cumulatively published dozens of stories on MOVE. This is the first time in the nearly 50 year history of MOVE that a group of members have publicly left and yet, as of today, there is still radio silence. When you consider the fact that June (Pixie), who has gone into hiding with her five children, is the daughter of Pam Africa, one of MOVE’s most public figures, this silence becomes even more remarkable. Factor in that Whit is the daughter of the Mike and Debbie Africa of the MOVE 9 and is the sister of MOVE spokesperson Mike Africa Jr (the subject of the HBO documentary “40 Years a Prisoner”) and the silence is astonishing.
A similar silence is also echoing from many of the activist circles that have worked alongside MOVE for decades. The thing that's so frustrating, sad, and infuriating about this is that these incredibly brave survivors are the ones who are actually living the righteous values that MOVE has attracted people by claiming to represent. For a variety of reasons the abuse that people raised in MOVE have experienced (which is in no way limited to the six who have been brave enough to come forward) is being disclosed slowly. One reason is that much of what they experienced is so horrific that it would almost seem unbelievable if it were all explained at once. I know that when June started disclosing her experiences to my wife, Maiga, and me, we were destabilized for days. When I started talking with Josh and Whit those feelings of shock only deepened.
However, with what’s already on the record it’s incredibly disappointing to me that these survivors and whistleblowers aren’t receiving more support and attention. Here are just a few of the things that have been disclosed so far: that June was forced into an arranged marriage and forced into pregnancy at the age of 12, that Whit and many other young teenage girls were also forced into marriage and pregnancy, that privilege within MOVE is granted based on skin tone and that darker-skinned children are treated significantly worse, that pregnant teenage girls are forcibly denied medical care even if their lives are in danger, that homophobia within MOVE is so extreme that kids feel that if they were to come out as gay that it may be punishable by death, that Alberta Africa lives a lavish lifestyle with MOVE money while many in MOVE grew up far below the poverty line, that children in MOVE are systematically denied an education, and some, like Josh, have been intentionally denied even basic levels of literacy.
I really believed that when people had access to this information that the response would be overwhelming support which would help these survivors to transition through this incredibly difficult phase where they’re publicly processing decades of extreme trauma. I understand that people who have publicly supported MOVE for years may have a difficult time integrating this information. However, these survivors are also stating that MOVE’s history is not what you have been led to believe. Last night I was texting with June about her current situation and she said “This is definitely harder than I could have ever imagined.” In reference to the number of people who are trying to maintain a neutral position, she said: “...how so many people are turning a blind eye. It makes me feel like I will never truly escape that fucking cult. Like no matter how hard I try they will win in the end. Even though they are not around we are still being affected by them, and Bert told me that I would never truly escape them even if I did get away alive. I guess this is what she meant because they worked overtime to make sure all of our lives would be hard.”
I wonder how many people could stand at the sidelines if they were on the other end of the phone while people raised in MOVE cried while telling the stories of their life. If people heard how many of them refuse to say the name “John Africa” and instead refer to him as “that man,” or “that evil man.” Many of the survivors have recorded hours of testimony for the “Murder at Ryan’s Run” podcast and much of that will be heard as episodes are released. However, it shouldn’t be necessary. We shouldn’t have to hear the cries of the victims in order to come to their aid. They don’t owe us the theater of their stories. Many people have profited financially, socially, and politically from association with MOVE, and much of that was on the backs of those who were raised in MOVE. They are owed so much more support than they are being given.
A few months ago I met Josh at a diner to share a meal and talk about how all of this might play out. He passionately spoke about how he would do anything in his power to prevent anyone else from ever experiencing what he has. He specifically talked about the danger that young women in MOVE face, and about how the abuse that they suffer makes them prey for abusive men even if they are able to make it out of MOVE. He swore that he would never allow his daughters to be exposed to what his sisters and nieces had endured, and he questioned how any adult in MOVE ever stood by silently and allowed the abuse to continue. Josh has made tremendous sacrifices in order to share the most vulnerable details of his life. He is demonstrating unimaginable virtue and strength.
Whit is the oldest of those who were born in MOVE to come forward. She was a small child in the house on Powelton Village during the confrontation on August 8th, 1978 that resulted in her parents serving 40 years in prison. She also lived in the house on Osage Ave. in the early 1980s, and she and her brother Mike would have likely been in the house on May 13th, 1985 if her grandmother Laverne hadn’t fought tooth and nail to get them out. Despite all that she has endured she is one of the kindest, most open-hearted people I have ever had the honor to know. She has risked the possible loss of family members and is putting the most vulnerable and intimate details of her life forward in order to stop the abuse. She has consistently said that she wants to honor the memory of the children who died on Osage Ave. by setting the record straight. She was also willing to take tremendous risks in order to protect the others who are coming forward.
Of all of those coming forward, June has had her life threatened most directly and repeatedly by Alberta. June left with her five children and is still in hiding. Anyone who remembers seeing her perform with the “Seeds of Wisdom” as a small child knows that June is a force to reckon with. She has been pushing back against the abuse that Bert and Ria preside over since she was a small child. She was married off and forced into pregnancy at the youngest age, 12, in order to try to control her. Alberta often told her that if her power could be harnessed “for the Organization” then she would be one of MOVE’s most valuable soldiers. Instead, June took her strong, independent spirit and fought valiantly to stop the fifty-year pattern of abuse.
In 1981 Valerie Brown rose in the middle of the night and quietly awakened her small children. She collected a small bag of clothes that she had hidden. Valerie quietly crept down the stairs, children in tow, and walked out of MOVE headquarters at 6221 Osage Ave. never to return. They hopped into the car in the darkness of night and drove away to begin new lives. Had Valerie not risked being caught and punished severely, if she had not fled, then her children likely would have perished in that house four years later (this 1985 interview with Valerie Brown hints at many of the patterns of abuse in MOVE that have been hiding in plain sight).
In 1998 John Gilbride quickly and quietly packed his things at the Cherry Hill house he shared with his wife Alberta Africa. When he left the house he was so paranoid that he would be caught that he thought the mailman may have been a MOVE informant. He drove away and wished he would never have to return, but he still needed to get his son Zack out safely. Soon after, John filed for divorce and custody for Zack. He fought a four-year battle for custody of his son, and the night before a court-ordered unsupervised visit he was shot multiple times at point-blank range in front of his apartment in Maple Shade, New Jersey.
These are only two of many dozens of people who have quietly fled MOVE. Many of them were embarrassed or ashamed about having been involved in a cult. Some are still terrified to talk about their experiences. This is the first time in MOVE history that people are leaving MOVE publicly and banding together. This is the first time that strength in numbers is giving individuals the ability to tell their stories publicly, no matter how painful and difficult it is. The work they are doing is protecting so many young people from further abuse, is honoring the deceased children who also suffered abuse in MOVE, and is clearing a path for those who will follow behind. In years to come, I think the larger culture will come to understand the power, significance, and importance of this story. I think that in time many will come to view these survivors as heroes. However, they need all of our support right now.
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