Being self-conscious was my entire personality back then, wondering who around me might find me unattractive and why. The port under my skin felt like an obvious answer.

For the final installment of Queer Crip Love Fest, we turn the cute up to 11.

“I try and proudly practice calling my body home, to truly inhabit my body, to feel what it feels like to live inside these muscles that bend and curl, and to feel proud of it, and no longer ashamed. This is queer crip pride.”

In the spirit of gathering our strength and resisting the living hell out of these next four years, I bring you our sweetest installment to date — along with some notes for the revolution.

Recovering from trauma through feline friendship.