A NEW PEACE ORDER

sharing their words makes you a "real bitch" worthy of violent threats sometimes

I was in the paper two days ago, in probably the most positive coverage about me, my advocacy work, and my EEOC charge there has yet been. That same night, I got an email from David Blumberg, clarinetist, teacher, and Juilliard Masters Guest Lecturer. I’m guessing the article triggered him. I had already obtained a temporary and final peace order against Mr. Blumberg in 2021/2. Here’s what he sent me November 20, 2024, the night of the Baltimore Banner article:

Blumberg sent this through my Substack, where he was a paid subscriber under the fake name “Marty Feldmann.” (Why did he need a fake name? I never trust people who can’t use their real names.) I have since blocked him and refunded his money.

It should go without saying that after the 2021/2 peace order expired (it was the longest which can be granted in Maryland), I was not in contact with Mr. Blumberg. But, he returned to his old ways. He wrote to me occasionally and my husband as well (he has since “unsent” those messages—again, who needs to unsend what they write?). We remained silent in response, though I have published much of it on my website. I’ve kept a record of everything which has been sent to me that he has written about me. My public accounting of his words is here; the vast majority of these words were public, though Blumberg often deletes them some time after writing them.

It’s a lot, and a lot of it is rambling, so I should probably organize it into a “worst of” sort of thing. But the TL;DR version is he was offended by my advocating for diverse young people in 2021, he called me a “cunt” (yawn, this is so overdone, but it sure was awesome to hear him explain this to the judge); he sent me voicemails of chainsaw sounds and when I asked if I should take them as a threat, he said yes (this did not go over well in court); and he’s made lots of reference to guns, artillery, and violence, as well as attending events where I am featured or which I am organizing since the final peace order expired. He wants me to know that he is following me.

And so, you might ask, why do I make this stuff public? Why air my dirty laundry on my webpage, where I could be sharing glamorous photos of myself, or oboe videos, or something good for society? Shouldn’t I be embarrassed about these interactions? Why not leave these poor, “crazy” men alone? I wrote about this with Bob, the guy who was selling the oboe reed which looked like my large black mutt chewed it and shat it out for $5,000.

A few hours after sending that email on November 20, Blumberg posted the following on his verified Facebook page:

What does that mean, you wonder? Well, me too. Is it a threat? Blumberg had previously revealed my home address in a similar manner on his personal Facebook page after sending me the chainsaw threats. He clarified later yesterday, November 21:

And then, this morning, November 22, he wrote this:

After I got the temporary peace order in 2021, a judge issued the final one with both of us there. After Blumberg’s initial statement, the judge advised him not to be sworn in and to simply accept the order, but Blumberg opted to be sworn in anyway. I represented myself. It was all very fast and I won, and Blumberg made it easy.

And when I say he made it easy, that’s not a good thing. I mean that he made it very clear to any reasonable person very quickly. The bailiff looked me in the eye at the court appearance after Blumberg spoke. He had a calm in his eye and kind of made a head gesture at me like, “You got this.” I’ll never forget him, a 60-something man with glasses I would recognize on any street. And—I saw him again yesterday, more than three years later! I’m sure he didn’t remember me, but he was again kind in the hallway. He was so unbearably sweet and good to the battered women I was sitting with it choked me up. I wish I knew his name and I’d send him a Christmas present or something.

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Now, what, I hear you asking, have I done to David Blumberg? How am I a “real bitch” to him? What “stalking” have I done? I must have done something really, really bad, right? Well, I’ve only ever met him once, that time in court in 2021. We couldn’t even walk out together. The judge made him wait until I left the building.

The thing which makes me that “real bitch” and “stalker” is having kept a public record of the things Mr. Blumberg has written to and about me. He wants his words and photo deleted from my website. His girlfriend says they affect his ability to get students and therefore her lifestyle.

I don’t know if the legal system will support me this time again, when I appear for the final order on December 2. One must expect the worst and hope for the best. I know the legal system has failed marginalized people time and time again. I know that orchestras and schools and EEOCs and unions and other bureaucratic agencies do not tend to support women except in the most egregious cases, and only after huge public embarrassment, typically. I spoke to a state-provided lawyer this morning who told me I needed to get off the phone and call 911 over that last screenshot. I said, are you sure? He said, please get off the phone with me now and call 911. And so I did. The officer who came was wonderful. I know she will be looking out for me. But I also know the police system does not always protect the people it should, even though the officer I saw today seemed very sympathetic.

After I appeared before the judge and my temporary peace order was granted yesterday, I had to sit and wait a fair bit of time for the paperwork. I sat on a bench with two women, one white and one Black, who were clearly both battered women. One had just seen the judge after me and was waiting for her paperwork, too. The other was waiting to see the judge, with her police report and bruises visible.

I felt so privileged and fraudulent at that moment. I’ve never been beaten by any man—not my husband, not my father, not my son—and I‘ve never been raped by any man.

I was well-dressed and wearing nice shoes, I spoke clearly and with authority, and the system, while it raises my blood pressure a bit, did not intimidate me out of my clarity. It was just another performance I didn’t want to be giving. I am a total expert in giving unwanted performances and barely need pills for them anymore. (As I tell people who demean sex workers, we are all some sort of prostitute some of the time.) I was in court because my friends told me I needed to be there, not because I had been actually physically hurt (yet) like these other women had. I was there yesterday getting another order to protect myself in advance, prophylactically because of threats and history. These women had actual bruises and appeared much more broken than I am. Their voices were much quieter than mine and they looked like they had barely made it into the courthouse.

Then I saw the stuff from Blumberg this morning about flying anywhere first class and knew I had done the right thing. And I made another trip back to the courthouse today after speaking with the cop.

The woman waiting to see the judge yesterday asked me shyly if he was nice. (He didn’t strike me that way, but rather more cold, matter-of-fact, and “judgy”—probably good things in a judge.) I told her the truth, but also that it wasn’t his job to be warm and fuzzy, and she should just go do her best, tell him her story, and it would be fine. I told her she didn’t have to worry about the first order (seeing her police report in hand and appearance) but that the final one is more tricky. She said of her batterer, “he’s such a coward, he probably won’t even show.” And I said, let us hope. I wished both women luck and left the building.

The one thing that bothered me most about the recent Baltimore Banner article were the quotes from the lawyers, one of them especially. Like, they don’t want us saying things either. Everyone wants the women to keep their stories to themselves, and especially the details. They don’t want us humanizing any of this. They want to be able to do their job in court better, without us using social media, so they can make money off failing us. Like they will actually protect us. Like their system will actually protect us. As if.

One thing I know, if I know anything at all, is that our protective systems usually fail. Talking about this stuff, saying it out loud, showing it, bringing receipts, and putting their words on public display is terrifying to these abusive men. This is the most offensive thing to them—exposure. But it is also the most effective tool for change I’ve experienced. This is what makes us “real bitches” and “cunts” and all of that, the ability to push the needle a little bit toward change. I don’t plan to shut up soon, and if I need to waste hours and hours of my day with cops and lawyers and courthouses, I’ll do that.