Police Brutality in Central New York: Organizing for Unity and Change

By Chris Sunderlin

A tribute to Nyah Mway, with candles and a sign wishing him a 'Happy heavenly 14th Birthday.'

In the heart of Utica, New York, a small but resilient community gathered on August 8th to celebrate the life of Nyah Mway, a 13-year-old refugee from Myanmar whose tragic death left a lasting scar on our city.

Earlier this summer, three police officers stopped Nyah and his friends for jaywalking. Nyah took off running, and Officer Bryce Patterson and Officer Patrick Husnay pursued him. Nyah stumbled and fell, and Patterson punched him repeatedly in the face. Husnay leaned over the boy on the floor and shot him in the chest.

The event, a birthday block party on Brinckerhoff Avenue, was more than just a memorial; it was a powerful act of defiance and resilience. As we shared cake, watched traditional Karen Don dancing, and listened to heartfelt speeches, we were reminded that even in the face of immense pain, there is strength in unity.

Organizing this event in Central New York, four hours north of New York City, presented unique challenges—and opportunities. In cities like Utica, where the population is smaller and more tightly knit, the ripple effects of police violence are felt deeply and personally. Everyone knows someone affected, and the wounds of injustice are often laid bare for all to see. But this closeness also fosters a profound sense of solidarity. When we come together, we do so not just as neighbors, but as family.

Organizing in larger cities like New York can feel like a drop in the ocean, with movements often spread across a vast and diverse population. While the scale of activism in big cities can be staggering and powerful, it can also be challenging to maintain a sense of personal connection in the fight against systemic issues like police brutality. The sheer size of the city can make it difficult for individual stories to be heard, for grief to be shared in an intimate way, and for collective healing to take place.

In Utica, our smaller scale allows for a different kind of mobilization. When we held Nyah’s birthday celebration, it wasn’t just an event—it was a communal outpouring of love, anger, and a shared commitment to justice. The people who attended weren’t just participants; they were co-creators of a space where we could collectively mourn, remember, and resolve to fight for change.

This isn’t to say that our efforts are easier or more impactful than those in larger cities, but rather that they are different, shaped by the unique dynamics of our community. In Utica, the strength of our activism lies in our ability to create close-knit networks of support, where each voice is heard and valued. It’s in the way we can quickly mobilize to support a cause, knowing that our actions will resonate deeply with those around us.

Yet, the challenges we face are also unique. Resources are scarcer, media attention is harder to garner, and the fight against systemic racism can feel more isolated. But it’s precisely because of these challenges that our victories, however small, feel so significant. When we organize in Central New York, we do so knowing that every step forward is a hard-won battle against a system that often overlooks communities like ours.

Nyah’s birthday block party was a testament to the power of community in the face of injustice. It was a reminder that even in places far from the epicenters of activism, the fight for justice is alive and well. And it’s a fight that looks different in every corner of our state, shaped by the people who live there, the histories they carry, and the futures they’re determined to build.

Traditional Karen Don dancers perform in celebration of Nyah Mway's life during the Birthday Block Party on Shaw Street. The community united in both sorrow and solidarity.

As we continue to seek justice for Nyah and others like him, we draw strength from our unity. In Central New York, where the bonds between us are strong and the stakes are personal, we know that real change starts with us, in the communities we call home.