I hesitate to call myself disabled.
Ableism creeps into our homes through the cracks and crevices until all the air is noxious gas.
I want acceptance to crash through the doors and shatter the windows with gale force winds, but acceptance starts inside me.
Gently. Quietly.
One day, acceptance will find its outside voice, proudly inviting others to join. But at first, it’s silent.
New beliefs taking shape in our minds.
Sensations finally being recognized.
Choices that feel good instead of agonizing over what’s acceptable.
Acceptance starts inside me because it’s where the truth of who I am resides.
I hesitate to call myself disabled because for every struggle I have strengths to match.
I hesitate to call myself disabled because I am capable, strong, and intelligent.
I hesitate to call myself disabled because, let’s be honest, isn’t it a curse?
The banner raised by ableism declares that anything less than perfect performance is a sign of your brokenness.
Ableism calls disabled a curse because it has no imagination, no room for messy strokes which layer and build, turning canvases into craftsmanship.
I’m only one generation removed from kin who consider genocide a gift for the disabled. I’m less than two decades past arguing for the worth and value of those too easily passed over—my words turning to mist against twisted theology.
It’s easier to fight for another than to admit you need someone to fight for you.
I’m no longer shouting the “your disability is your superpower” refrain—words that make our existence easier for the world to swallow. Words that require no sacrifice.
Disabled is not a dirty word, but I hope the language of toxic positivity feels like sand in our mouths.
It’s not our job to break down the walls of ableism. But it is our responsibility to purge the poison from our own veins—to let loose the damage and disease caused by vile beliefs.
I hesitate to call myself disabled, yet my reluctance makes it no less true.
I know it in my marrow: I’m still a fucking masterpiece, and so are you.
— T
This is in my bones right now. Thank you.
Yes, yes! It’s taken me too long to stop trying to purge the ableism from people who just don’t get it and simply be all of me as if there is no question that I belong.