Guest Spot: Tijuana Fulford

Stand with us against hate

I write this with a heavy heart, deeply disturbed and outraged by the racial slurs directed at The Butterfly Effect Project — an initiative I have poured my heart into, ensuring that not just Black girls, but all girls, are uplifted, empowered and given safe spaces to grow. The use of such hateful language is not just an attack on me, these young women or the organization; it is an attack on human dignity. 

Let me be clear: Empowerment is not a buzzword to me. It is a reflection of how I carry myself and how I approach working with children — ensuring that each one of them is seen, heard and valued. To be denied the right to simply be — because of the color of one’s skin or because of the choice to use inclusive language — is unacceptable. No one should have to fight for their existence. No one should have to prove their worth. We all have the right to occupy space, to grow and to thrive — regardless of race, culture, economic status or ability. 

Pearls of Wisdom was established to uplift, inspire and empower. It was not created to be mocked, bullied or reduced to hateful slurs and animalistic comparisons. Can you imagine stepping into a space, fighting an unseen enemy? Arguing with a person who hides in the shadows, faceless and nameless? Seeking help but questioning if you can trust the very hands reaching out to you? This experience has left me shaken, paralyzed — paranoid, even by the realization that this kind of hatred could be coming from anyone. It is a chilling thought.

And yet, in the midst of this darkness, there is light. So many incredible people reached out, offering their support, their encouragement, their strength. To each and every one of you, I say thank you. Your messages were seen. Your kindness was felt. Your words are being read and responded to. The outpouring of love reminded me that this fight is worth it. That this battle, exhausting as it is, must continue. Because if we don’t stand up now, then when? 

But let me also say this: I had to stop talking. Not because I was afraid, but because when I did speak, I was not heard. When invited to share what happened and BEP’s response to the incidents, I was not met with empathy and solidarity, I was met with condescension. Talked at, instead of talked with. I was told I had to be educated about incidents like these. I was told what I should and should not have done. Instead of listening to what actually happened, and asking how we can work together collectively to prevent this from happening again, I was patronized. 

I understand that this is an uncomfortable conversation to have. But if simply talking about it makes you uncomfortable, can you imagine living it? Can you imagine having your very existence questioned, your presence mocked, your worth diminished? These things are not just going to disappear. Racism does not dissolve on its own. It will not go away if we ignore it. 

We have to do the work. Pointing fingers and going silent will not do. Accepting this as our new normal will not do. Standing on the sidelines while others are dehumanized will not do. 

I never condemn anyone for taking pride in their identity. Pride is not exclusionary; it is the celebration of who we are. And yet, in 2025, we still live in a world where five young Black women — five brilliant, capable, extraordinary young ladies — are reduced to slurs, compared to animals and treated with hatred rather than respect. That reality is terrifying. It is not just about these five young women; it is about a society that rallies around hate, rather than finding unity in love. 

For those who have questioned my response, who have said I “chickened out” or that my ancestors would be ashamed, let me make one thing clear: I acted in the best interest of everyone involved. How could I, in good conscience, proceed with an event knowing these women were being dehumanized? Knowing that there were threats — sugar in gas tanks, slashed tires, potential confrontations with protesters? Who would want to stand in a space filled with fear? That is not empowerment. Protecting these women, children and the community, and ensuring their safety was the priority. Please trust that my staff and I know what is best for the youth and families we serve. 

We do not fight hate by mirroring it. We fight hate by standing firm in who we are, by creating space for others to exist in safety and dignity. I refuse to let anyone distort my intentions. If you don’t know who I am, let me tell you: I am a human being first. A wife and mother second. I never asked to be a leader, nor do I claim to be one. I am simply someone doing the best I can in the face of adversity — just like everyone else. 

So I ask those who shared, liked or commented on the negativity — what are you doing? Not just for yourself, but for others? If all you contribute is criticism, ask yourself what it would mean to channel that energy into something productive. Because this is bigger than me. It is bigger than The Butterfly Effect Project. It is about the Riverhead community, the East End community, the Suffolk County community and beyond. It is about every child who deserves to grow up in a world where they are not targeted, bullied or reduced to anything less than human. 

If you think I’m upset, you are absolutely right. I am devastated. I am hurt. But above all, I am still filled with love. Because I know that what I pour into these young people cannot be hate — it must be love. And so, I challenge you. I challenge you to do one small thing every day to better the world for someone other than yourself. That is how change happens. That is how we fight hate. Not with more hate, but with small acts of kindness that ripple into something greater. 

The Butterfly Effect Project will continue. The work will not stop. But the question remains: Will you stand with us against hate? Or will you stand on the sidelines watching? The choice is yours.

Tijuana Fulford is the founder and president of Jamesport nonprofit The Butterfly Effect Project.