Sitting behind a table, being a door
bitch for a night at a local queer poetry reading; I am severed from my
wheelchair-by ‘choice’ mostly. I want to hold my girlfriend’s hand and snuggle
into her while we wait for the stragglers coming in off the cold Melbourne
street and my chair is too big to fit behind here, beside her. So we sit and we
smooch, feeling like the queer ambassadors in my rainbow thermals, signalling
our pride and our sexuality when our kisses arent. She (my chair) who is yet to
acquire a name has been parked within view over the other side of the room; the
place is not full enough/or no one is drunk enough to try and sit in her.
I am not aware of my passing yet, I am
all too aware of my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh through my jeans and my
racing heart every time…someone steps through the door and approaches our
table. You see I am really bad at maths. Terrible. I didn’t even pass year 10.
It is an extension of my dyslexia I think, I cannot hold a number or a word in
my mind for more than a second to see what it looks like and what it wants me
to do with it, how to write it down, it swims in my head, it jumbles, grows
hazy and is gone before it has even reached my fingers. All this gets worse
with pressure and tonight the pressure is on. Or it was on until my girlfriend
saw my anxiety and came and rescued me. There are moments tonight when I try
(to prove to her im not ‘stupid’? to fight against my impairment?) to handle
the next customer, and she holds my sweaty hand and I deduct 12 from 20,
slowly. A man comes in late and seeing my face he gives me a $2 coin, and it is
now that I am aware that I am passing as normative. Usually, with my crippledom
on show, in my chair, if this situation were happening to me I’d be thinking
‘’ok now jack, you are just re-enforcing a stereotype that all people with
disabilities are not intelligent, get it together’’. Now, he probably thinks I
just don’t want to have to search in my box for change, so he smiles and says
‘’here’’ and I know am passing. I am not this ‘thing’, fighting against or for
anything. I have left my minority behind and I am just like him. Well minus the
cock and plus a woman.
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