When we look at women who work, what remains unseen and what is expected to remain hidden?
I borrowed a bicycle and explored, in the same way my great-grandfather had gone about on his pony sixty years earlier.
Are these the only two stories? The one, where you defeat your monster, and the other, where you succumb to it?
Disability justices can be, and are, plural.
When you attribute someone’s evil actions to their mental health status rather than their actual root cause—like white supremacy—then that evil is no longer presented as a choice.
I am the only one in the room who is neither asked nor allowed to answer: “How does that make you feel?”
In my flocks, I’ve borne witness to what I fear.
In giving me her pendant, was my mother not only wishing me well on my journey but handing over our family’s story?
I learned to reevaluate the meaning of ‘normal’ in relationships, and also my habit of reflexively turning to data.
Disability ruins everything, these stories tell us: disability itself is tragedy. These people’s lives are over, apparently, even though they are palpably still here.
Perhaps the certainty that you are not the monster—that no matter what you do, you will never become the monster—is what gives rise to monstrous behavior.
Through myth-making and symbolism, the natural world comes to stand in for potent human ideals.