Pride, Fatigue and Rage

It's Disability Pride month again and I'm tired. 🐌

Welcome to “Portal Hopping,” my mostly-monthly newsletter where I write about art, Disability and other things that rise to the surface of my heart.

An illustration of four people outside in the night. There’s a full moon character in the sky looking at the characters. A large wooden ladder is placed on the ground up toward the sky with a character on the ladder grabbing a gigantic star. Another character is holding the ladder for them. A character with a wheelchair and another with a hearing aid are cheering for the character on the ladder. “Sharing our dreams with others makes our dreams brighter!” is handwritten on the illustration.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and my hearing aid stopped working after being outside working at an art market all day in the humidity of a Georgia Summer.

As global warming continues, I sit in an unknown of how my device will sustain in my foreseeable future with no immediate alternative to communicate besides doing my best to continue learning ASL.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and I decide not to go to an art event for fear that the majority of people will not be practicing precautions to spread airborne illnesses.

I politely decline the invitation, out of the exhaustion of advocating time and again for masks being required in events.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and all of the years of representation still didn’t give Disabled people rights.

I continue to scream into voids with very little actionable response or structural sustainability.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and I show you studies of how COVID impacts everyone.

“But the pandemic is over” you say.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and Long-Covid has impacted my memory.

I try to pace myself to find the information I need throughout the day, even though things tend to still fall through the cracks. I get a response of “oh but you’re so young.”

It’s Disability Pride Month, and the powers that be are counting on you getting sicker to stop fighting.

I do my best, to keep going with the tools I have.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and they are swiftly building concentration camps¹ that will Disable so many people.

My heart sinks into my stomach with nausea.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and our government continues to gut more healthcare.

My nausea grows further.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and my warnings grow faint in the presence of others.

I keep trying.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and there is still so much possibility.

I attend multiple masks-required events where people are practicing precautions to keep each other safe.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and I try to build new systems with community.

We brainstorm and collaborate, we participate in mutual aid, we resource each other.

It’s Disability Pride Month, and I’m tired.

I continue to persist in the ways that best support my pace.

I continue to dream, and share my dreams with others to build a better world.

An illustration of 7 characters of various ages outside enjoying the sunshine in a forest. Two characters are playing music, while another is in a wheelchair watching them. Two kids are playing catch with a ball in the distance. A younger person and an elder are bird watching, as the elder points to two pink birds in the sky. There is a large sunshine beaming, with handwritten text that reads “I wish to live in a world where the future is bright, not from the fires set ablaze by the power hungry but from the sun that shines on us all!”

1. Concentration camp definition from Merriam Webster Dictionary: “a place where large numbers of people (such as prisoners of war, political prisoners, refugees, or the members of an ethnic or religious minority) are detained or confined under armed guard…”

I am facilitating a “Gentle Reminders” Drawing workshop at Charis Books in Atlanta, Georgia this Sunday from 2-4pm. It’s a free workshop, masks are required.

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