Content Warning: notes on a serially abusive ex: Spenser James Declan Cockcroft…. or Spenser Bakri Newton, Classic Pendergast… or Spenser Coughlin… or Spenser Cockcroft, or whatever this (wannabe?) “queer porn star” is up to these days.

This brief post is dedicated to my ex, the only partner I have lived with before my current partner, and his lies and destruction of reputations (including my own). I have known for well over three years that Spenser was telling people in my communities that I raped him.

And for juuust over two years now that Spenser had lied not only to me and my own community, but also to the midwestern slam poetry community (in particular, to garner sympathy from Layne, a poet whom he then dated and then proceeded to treat the same way, and also following with a social media smear campaign again (in which he told a bunch of people only he knows that two exes raped him rather than one.)

So in my experience, Spenser “needed” to be patently emotionally abusive at all times, and in need of pity and care and financial support because of all the shitty people who had hurt him and because he was a recovering addict and blah blah blahhhhh he is righteously angry and volatile, and no one is ever sensitive to that or him and I was the only person who had ever made that stone butch squirt before and the only one who ever “got” him or whatever…. and how could I call his slam poem about how the Irish were treated comparing them to slaves and the middle crossing racist when that’s just the history of the Irish and no one ever supports his art or understands him?!?!?!?!

….whatever, man. To be honest, I am not even sure he ever told me his real, LEGAL surname… and we signed a lease together. That stupidity is on me, and ever shall be. Maybe it’s Coughlin. I remember the day that I left him. I went in, and he handed me one long-stemmed rose and apologised for a heinously abusive tantrum he’d had in my car earlier that week, as I picked him up from work with one or two members of my carpool home from the university where I was working, and dropped him off on a corner near our apartment (as in within 300 yards of the house), as it was a hot day and we were all en route to go swimming. I don’t remember if we made it to the pool after that… but I don’t think so. Pretty sure we ended up at the splash park off Niagara St. in Buffalo, the one where the junction with the 190 (I-190, that is, for readers not using the Western New York colloquial vernacular.)

I moved out in a hurry that weekend, when my mom’s sister was in town. And Spenser kept the deposit, and never paid me back for the furniture or paint or other household items I’d bought, to the tune of over $1000. I remember when I found out he’d lied about all of this in order to endear Layne to him and later validate his abuse of Layne… I was in an İstiklal Vodafone outlet in Istanbul, having left all this drama firmly in my past (or so I thought), waiting for shitty service with my friend Bella. Upon discovering how Spenser had lied not only to me my own community, but also to more victims I burst into violent tears.

Even five years ago, I didn’t say much to combat the lies or feed the rumors. First of all… why bother fanning that flame. Second of all, I figured I’d be fine eventually. And I still believe that believing survivors is the most important message. If I was so fucking scared to say anything, I cannot even imagine how hard it is for someone to have to stand up to their abuser or attacker on a national stage.

And he knew 5 years ago that this would isolate me and give him credibility. People like Spenser are the reason that people like Dr. Blasey Ford are not believed. And I knew that then. So I never said anything. Believing survivors enough to look into it should ALWAYS come first, unquestionably so. And it is so rare we lie about this. The fact that Spenser used this lie to garner sympathy from Layne was a huge breaking point for me, shortly before the 2016 election.

So I have now known for over two years that I was not the only vulnerable queer who was victim of his in this regard, and I remain committed to my own integrity and health and safety… and offer my solidarity to Layne, who also needed two years to be strong enough to speak up in October 2016, and ask forgiveness for the two years of silence. I wasn’t strong enough until now. And I’m sorry it took me so long to add this for the world to see.

Here’s Layne’s testimony, in case you need more proof:

REMINDER:

I am putting this out there so that anyone who might be friends with this individual understands the gravity of the situation.

In 2014 I dealt with an extremely abusive individual. I have him blocked everywhere I possibly can. He currently goes by Spenser Bakri Newton, Classic Pendergast and possibly, Spenser Coughlin or Spenser Cockcroft. This individual has hurt me and many others. This blog post is a timeline of my abuse.

If you are going through something like this, speak up and be loud. Message me if you need to talk and remember, it is not your fault.

http://laynedanger.blogspot.com/20…/…/this-is-my-story.html…

Suffice to say that I don’t really want a bunch of drama again, I’m well over that. But adding my testimony to my own experience and backing up Layne’s words has been much too long in coming at this point.

We can only hope that anyone who wants to get involved with this creep will fucking Google him moving forward.

Note: This post is GDPR compliant as I am unsure if any of us really know this person’s real name.

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