“Being a woman, having a disability, being Dominican, and finally I can add to that magical layer being queer.” — Welcome to the Magic Club, Jillian!
I don’t think anyone looks at the introverted, disabled woman, and thinks she’s powerful. But my family chose to. They are the reason that I can pushback against the stereotypes society holds for a quiet blind woman, and assert my place in this world. They taught me to swim in the waves.
If you’re looking for easy answers that preserve your bubble, you won’t find them here. But that’s exactly why anyone who considers themselves an activist, an ally, or a member of the resistance writ large needs to read this book.
“The disability community needs to spend some time asking itself: How are we working together across movements in the progressive space? How are we centering the voices of people with disabilities who are fighting multiple oppressions? How are we embodying sustainability of ourselves in such a time where it seems like the ground underneath us is always shifting and we are drinking not from a fire hose, but from a flamethrower?”
“That she talked to you about this at all is a beautiful and important thing that a lot of young people don’t have. So know that just being there for her is already making an enormous difference!”
“It’s a harsh reality that I will be priced out of my own life at this point if the AHCA gets passed and, quite frankly, I’m not done living my damn life yet.”
“The ADA tends to disintegrate in the hands of airlines and their staff, especially for POC and QTPOC, and it doesn’t matter if the law is on your side.”
“Deformed spine”? Yikes.
Your curriculum isn’t “one size fits all” if “all” means “nondisabled straight people.”
“In the midst of all this grief and uncertainty, we must rise up and practice pride every day.”
When I saw the hashtag #DisabledAndCute gaining steam on Twitter last weekend, I felt an immediate tug of recognition. Disabled folks were here, owning our bodies and looks rather than trying to cover up, slink away, or downplay.
“Gaze out the window or exist in silhouette as often as possible.”
In honor of all the other crips I saw in the streets on the Women’s March on Washington, of every disabled woman who’s had it with lip service and wants to make sure this movement belongs to all of us, here are ten more who are already preparing the way.
“I’m a Nice Person — I have one of those irrepressibly pleasant faces that makes people want to sit next to me on public transportation — but I can be nice and angry, I can be smart and angry, and I can be worth listening to and angry.”
Introducing a new series on disability and love! Disabled people’s lives are bursting with affirmation, affection, and meaning well beyond half-baked romance narratives. So I’m talking to disabled queer folks about the love all around them — for partners, family, friends, pets, fictional characters, whatever — and sharing it with you right here.
We need intersectional critical thinkers to flood the political landscape and help win the war on facts. And with the most blatantly ableist President in modern history knocking on the door of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, disabled folks have got to lead that charge.
Mark my words: Donald Trump will talk a great game about our “amazing bravery” as he gets to work stealing our healthcare. The man knows how to throw out a red herring, and we all need to be ready for this one.
Listen as you build your movements, clarify your priorities, and fight for that future so many of us thought was already here.
Me Before You isn’t half-baked schlock that crumbles under the weight of its own unconscionable ignorance. No — instead, director Thea Sharrock and writer Jojo Moyes gave us a bio-horror masterpiece about a deadly outbreak of Ableism in small-town Wales. With Halloween upon us, it’s time their efforts got the recognition they deserve.
That’s what’s tricky about disabled sexuality: most people, disabled or not or anyplace in between, have no idea how to discuss it. So fear of “saying the wrong thing” takes over instead and the problem feeds itself. We never talk about it because we don’t know how to start.