My health has grown more complex, more difficult to support and bargain with. But my commitment to writing, to telling you these stories, has only grown. This quest may be ending, but there are untold others waiting to begin.
Category: The Disabled Witch
All episodes of my sporadic, meandering, ruminative creative-blog mashup adventure.
This is a conversation between myself and artist, writer, and very good friend Charlie Andrés regarding a shared space we call Autism Afternoons. More information about Charlie and links to their stuff can be found at the end of the episode.
I had accepted the label of disability long ago. So what was I running from? Acceptance. That was my pursuer. It's one thing to claim disability and fight for my rights and the rights of others; it is another thing entirely to devote myself to building a life that nurtures my bodymind, rather than operating in spite of it.
Before self-diagnosis, I always felt like a piece of me was missing. I struggled with an internal sense of self because I felt I had no core to anchor myself to. I didn't respect my sensory needs, and in return they caused me mishap after mishap. Now, I just feel... happier. Calmer.
It's difficult to ground teaching practice in Disability Justice when so much of the educational system is antithetical to those values. Still, I try, and I am very open with my students about that. Things are a bit easier as a mentor. My first-year college students are able to comprehend more quickly the tenets of DJ, and we can meet outside of the crushing pressures of the educational system.
Just as an adrenaline-filled moment wrestling with a friend was my first queer awakening, Care vs. Cure was my first true disabled awakening. All at once, I learned what Disability Studies was and became confident that I belonged in it. But it was Disability Justice that made me realize that disability is a political identity as well.
Bringing the realm of disability into the intimacy space can only make it messier. Disabled lives are messy. Physically, spiritually, emotionally, relationally. Thus, disabled intimacy is always messy. But that doesn't mean it can't feel really, really good.
Walking with a cane is not as simple as picking it up and going on your way. It requires a period of adjustment to find your rhythm, learning to synchronize your muscles with the workings of metal and rubber. Yet, no one talks about this. So here are a few ways you shouldn't use a cane.
"I'm not disabled," I said to myself. But doubt slowed my cursor as I went to close the email. Sure, my foot still hurt after months of physical therapy and consultation with a civilian doctor. And my migraines were nearly constant. Not to mention the mental health struggles. But I wasn't disabled, and this was a department for disabled students.
Episode 3 explores my first use of a cane, finally getting a diagnosis for my disability, and the effects that had on me afterward.
Ashton Rose 