“I am looking for friends and
allies, communities where gawking, gaping, staring finally turns to something
else, something true to the bone. Places where strength is softened and
tempered, love honed and stretched. Where gender is more than a simple binary.
Places where we encourage each other to swish and swagger, limp and roll, and
learn the language of pride. Places where our bodies become home.”
-Eli Clare.
This quote has stayed with me for the last 7 years, it hit me
in the chest the first time I read it. I carry it around in the marrow of my
bones, in those places deep inside ourselves where truth lives, where healing
happens.
I spent my childhood exiled from my body,
trying to create as much distance as possible from what it actually feels like
to live inside this skin, how it feels to have my muscles tense uncontrolledly.
I wished daily for a normal body. I wished
for it mostly because I was subjected to painful procedures by doctors and
daily painful therapy by my mum in an effort to straighten this bent body.
But clearly I was never meant to be straight.
*Ladies*
All the medical interventions achieved was
years of feeling profoundly ashamed and disconnected from myself. The idea that
I could feel at home inside myself was unthinkable to 16-year-old me, that I
could feel pride and love my body, just as it is and not wish to change it,
that my body would become central to my identity and life’s
work in disability rights.
Home.
Calling this body home is an ongoing act of
resistance and resilience when society tell me in a myriad of ways that I don't
belong. From the buildings I cannot access, to the god damn stairs that are
everywhere, to the gawking, gaping and staring that I am subject to every time
I go out in public, to the inaccessible trams that map this city which I cannot
access, which tell me clearly I do not belong, that I am not equal, in this
city which I call home.
Home.
Finding home.
Coming home.
She says "I love how you have a sound,
that is different to how everyone else sounds. The turn of your tires, the
touch of your hands to your wheel rims, a soft sound of metal, muscle and skin
moving together. I love that I can hear you coming home, wheeling up the ramp,
moving about the house and know it is you and it is familiar and beautiful. I
love how you move in your chair, and how your body has a rhythm and sway to it
that is just yours."
She
She calls me home, into the sinews of my
muscles which bend and curl, says she loves how un-straight I am and names the
parts that refuse to be straightened and kisses them, draws them out into the
light.
Love
Love should push you to the edges of yourself
and give you courage to go to those edges, to do the things that expand you and
make you grow, but it should also give you a soft space to land, a sense of
comfort and belonging and acceptance. It should call you home.
I am no longer ashamed. I am proud.
I have found reclamation and pride in the
experiences and knowledge of other people with disabilities as they find ways
to reclaim their bodies too, as they call their bodies home and do so proudly,
boldly and unapologetically.
I want to end with a poem called You Get
Proud by Practicing by disability activist Laura Hershey:
If you are
not proud
For who you
are, for what you say, for how you look;
If every
time you stop
To think of
yourself, you do not see yourself glowing
With golden
light; do not, therefore, give up on yourself.
You can get
proud.
You do not
need
A better
body, a purer spirit, or a Ph.D.
To be
proud.
You do not
need
A lot of
money, a handsome boyfriend, or a nice car.
You do not
need
To be able
to walk, or see, or hear,
Or use big,
complicated words,
Or do any
of those things that you just can’t do
To be
proud. A caseworker
Cannot make
you proud,
Or a
doctor.
You only
need more practice.
You get
proud by practicing.
There are
many many ways to get proud.
You can try
riding a horse, or skiing on one leg,
Or playing
guitar,
And do well
or not so well,
And be glad
you tried
Either way.
You can
show
Something
you’ve made
To someone
you respect
And be
happy with it no matter
What they
say.
You can say
What you
think,
though you
know
Other
people do not think the same way, and you can keep saying it, even if they tell
you
You are
wrong.
You can add
your voice
All night to the voices
Of a
hundred and fifty others
In a circle
Around a
jailhouse
Where your
brothers and sisters are being held
For
blocking buses with no lifts,
Or you can
be one of the ones
Inside the
jailhouse,
Knowing of
the circle outside.
You can
speak your love
To a friend
Without
fear.
You can
find someone who will listen to you
Without
judging you or doubting you or being
Afraid of
you
And let you
hear yourself perhaps
For the
very first time.
These are
all ways
Of getting
proud.
None of
them
Are easy,
but all of them
Are
possible.
You can do
all of these things,
Or just one
of them again and again.
You get
proud
By
practicing.
Power makes
you proud, and power
Comes in
many fine forms
Supple and
rich as butterfly wings.
It is music
when you
practice opening your mouth
And liking
what you hear
Because it
is the sound of your own
True voice.
It is
sunlight
When you
practice seeing
Strength
and beauty in everyone,
Including
yourself.
It is dance
when you practice knowing
That what
you do
And the way
you do it
Is the right way for you
And cannot
be called wrong.
All these
hold
More power
than weapons or money
Or lies.
All these
practices bring power, and power
Makes you
proud.
You get
proud
By
practicing.
Remember,
you weren’t the one
Who made
you ashamed,
But you are
the one
Who can
make you proud.
Just
practice,
Practice
until you get proud, and once you are proud,
Keep
practicing so you won’t forget.
You get
proud
By
practicing.
