$9.68: The Price of Being Profiled in Lancaster, PA ✊🏿 ☕️
Cold brew. A bomb threat. Hush money. And the cost of being Black and visible in America 🇺🇸.
Author’s Note:
On May 10, 2025, I experienced racial profiling at cafe in downtown Lancaster City, PA. The police were called on me for being at the cafe for too long and because my bag looked suspicious. After paying $9.68 for a drink, staying under 2 hours, and the cops finding nothing in my bag, I was asked to leave the premises.
I posted a critical review on social media and received the community's overwhelming support. In what seemed like an attempt to shift public perception, the owner would edit my words to report me to the authorities a second time for making an online bomb threat directed at her business—something I had not done.
In writing, she apologized for both incidents, agreed that the initial incident was an over-escalation, explained that her defensive decisions were misdirected, and shared that she did not believe any harm was intended.
In lieu of a public apology to clear my name, the owner offered another private apology and $1,500. I would also need to delete some of the online posts holding her business accountable. In what felt like hush money, the owner then emphasized that we needed to come to an agreement because she has “unsavory” information about me, and concluded the paragraph with “Everyone has a past”. I interpreted this as an attempt to pressure and manipulate me into silence.
So, I refused her offer.
In honor of both Pride month and Juneteenth, this piece is dedicated to the Lancaster community who witnessed this unfold online and stood en masse on my behalf, a queer Black man working on his laptop at a local cafe without incident. You not only defended me to the owner, you also captured screenshots to maintain the integrity of the timeline.
Thank you for your continued support as I manage this ongoing situation that continues to severely escalate—all from a first-time visit to a cafe and $9.68 drink order.
It does not define Lancaster, but does highlight the work that still needs our attention. In the name of justice, we must maintain our strength and stand together. This situation could have happened to anyone and, without accountability, may even happen again.
As I launch Lancaster City Today, a new media lab covering AI and Lancaster’s culture, I did not intend on being the story. And, as I’ve said before, I definitely did not want to be the face of racial profiling. This truly feels like trial by fire. But one scripture has given me consistent peace:
"What you meant for evil, God meant for good"—Genesis 50:20
And I believe this situation is for my good, the work I am called to do, and the city I am called to serve. Thank you again for your support and thank you for reading.—brotherAL
Disclaimer: This piece reflects my personal perspective and lived experience. All statements are based on firsthand interactions, public communication, and my own interpretations. This article is not intended as a legal accusation but as a public reflection on events that affected me deeply.
Note: The owner was unable to find my receipt in order to process a refund. I directed the owner to donate to the Water Street Mission on 5/15/25 via a Notion website. As of 6/18/25, no refund or donation has been received.
The Notion website containing an up-to-date timeline and extensive documentation with screenshots provided by the Lancaster community is available by request for press, city officials, and legal review.
$9.68.
That’s what I paid for 24 ounces of cold brew at a Lancaster café. That’s what I paid to walk straight into Lancaster's unhealed history. That’s what I paid to enter a month of hell.
I thought I was purchasing coffee and time to work on my laptop. I didn't know I was also paying for police presence, interrogation, search, and shame because I was "hanging around for too long" and suspicion around my basic-looking bookbag.
The owner would eventually type an apology for the over-escalation. But days later, those same hands would be used to strategically cut and paste my words in order to report me for making an online bomb threat directed at her business. Engaging law enforcement once again felt like intentional dehumanization and weaponization. Now twice.
$9.68, including tip.
She would vehemently apologize privately once again, as if her apologies could comfort the weeks I spent looking over my shoulder—unsure if neighbors or law enforcement were friend or foe.
As if her apologies could regulate my nervous system out of a constant state of shock, paranoia, anxiety, and fear.
As if her apologies could mitigate being reminded of how some in America still see me. A Black man sitting quietly, typing on a laptop, and paying for a drink is so threatening that he could believably escalate an already baseless situation to domestic terrorism, in just a few words.
Reminded of the generations before me who would be lynched or imprisoned. Reminded of the police overreach and excessive force experienced by Black men nationwide. Reminded of ICE agents currently kidnapping and deporting civilians with no due process today.
$9.68, including tip. Private apologies. And still no refund.
Instead of a public statement to clear my name, I was offered $1,500 and a private apology. Hours later, I would be told that in order to receive the money, I would need to delete some of the social media posts holding her business accountable. The offer was followed by lasting words stating that we needed to reach an agreement because she has “unsavory” information about me and “everyone has a past”. Feeling nothing like earnest ownership, the overall offer began to look more like hush money laced with intimidation. I denied her offer and explained that I would continue with my plans to go public.
The owner then threatened me with jail time.
$9.68, including tip.
Criminalized. Accused of terrorism. Law enforcement weaponized against me. Five emails of private apologies or reconciliation.
And still no refund.
...I thought I was buying coffee at a local Lancaster café.
Now while I’ve had a challenging month, my story doesn't compare to the legacy of our Lancaster ancestors. In comparison, my experience with this cafe owner is light work, a blip on the radar of injustice.
It doesn’t compare to the courage of Ann Woodlen, Lancaster's Rosa Parks. It doesn’t compare to the slaves who used Bethel AME Church as safe harbor on the Underground Railroad. It doesn’t remotely compare to the unjust massacre of the Conestoga Tribe.
My situation could never stand up to their collective legacies of greatness and resilience. That said... It has been a really hard month for me, you guys 😭😭.
My workouts are suffering. My biceps are struggling to grow under this level of stress. And here’s the kicker: I’m bald. And that has nothing to do with anything, but the blame has gotta be placed somewhere. And I blame this past month. But I digress 😉.
Ann Woodlen, our Black ancestors journeying on the Underground Railroad, the great Conestoga Tribe—they’re the real legends. It’s their lives and legacies that make Lancaster sacred ground. It's their oppression, their blood shed, their power that make Lancaster holy.
In comparison, there’s no glory in my story. There is no pride in having to take on the same struggles we have already overcome. However, there is a very real responsibility to protect what they fought for, what they died for—like being able to sit in a café in peace.
Last Saturday, I was honored to participate with you all in the massive No Kings Protest. Together, we were standing for justice and democracy.
We were standing together against federal agents executing unconstitutional raids in LA. We were standing together against a sitting Senator tackled to the ground and handcuffed for asking a question. We were standing together against the discriminatory treatment of seasoned trans military professionals. We were standing together against the arrest of a New York Comptroller upholding our civil rights. We were standing together against the genocide in Gaza and the invasion of Ukraine. We were standing together against fascism and our democracy under assault.
We honored our ancestors by standing together and protecting the justice they fought and died for. And Lancaster, we must remain standing.
When the cafe owner offered me $1,500, it felt like I was given the option of courage or coercion. I chose courage. And though my little Lancaster café story is somewhat insignificant in the eyes of history, it provided enough clarity and conviction for me to stand.
…Well, the police with guns told me to leave the cafe, so technically they got me standing and out the door. But, dammit, Lancaster, I stood!
And now that they made me stand up—now that they made me get up out my seat, you better prepare for me to start moving. Moving for justice. Moving for safety. Moving for freedom. Moving to protect what is holy. Moving for Lancaster because... Lancaster is sacred ground ✨.
And I may not be able to take on the world, but I can defend where I stand.
Just like those before me, I can, no, I must defend this moment in Lancaster history.
For you. For the ancestors. For the generations that follow. And for the soul of Lancaster that I must protect, if only for my own safety.
For me, the $9.68, including tip, became the fee that invited me into a larger moment—to stand, speak, and seek justice.
To stand for freedom.
To stand for democracy.
To stand for what is sacred.
To stand for Lancaster.
Because when we stand together, how we can, where we can, the generations stand with us.
They march with us.
They protest with us.
They boycott with us.
They chant with us.
They resist with us.
They fight with us.
The generations come alive in us!
Right now, we are being challenged to rise, contribute to the movement of resistance, and protect this sacred ground we have the privilege to share. To defend the privileges we hold dear. That our ancestors fought for—like being able to sit in a cafe in peace. We may not be able to take on the world, but we can protect and defend exactly where we stand.
It is our responsibility. It is our legacy. It is our Lancaster.
$9.68, including tip.
I thought it was for a cup of coffee, but it was really a small price to stand with the generations.
And, United…
We stand ✊🏿🏳️🌈✊🏼🏳️⚧️✊🏾🇵🇸 🫵 🇺🇸.
— brotherAL ✨
brotherAL is the Cultural Architect of Lancaster City, PA, preparing for the AI revolution and post-work society.
His work is dedicated to exploring how AI can support community-building, spirituality, culture, and personal reinvention. He was featured in the New York Times, Elle Magazine, Huffington Post, and People, and was also the assistant director of the Community Arts Division at Rutgers University.
This article serves as the precursor for his upcoming podcast, For the Record: The Right to be Seen as Human, a civil rights mini-series produced by Lancaster City Today.
To get in touch with brotherAL for speaking, writing, performance, or AI teaching opportunities, email lancastercitytoday@gmail.com or click here to review our brochure.