Bad Genes: On Fertility and Disability Rights
Living with an unquiet mind is like living with a noisy, restless, anxious human who tugs on your sleeve for attention.
There are over forty million mentally ill people in the United States. I am one of them. To be crazy—to live, as I do, with an unquiet mind—in a culture that hates you for it is, in a sense, a minefield. Particularly when mental illness is not the only disability that inhabits your life. In this explosive-strewn landscape of disablism, you never quite know when you are going to step on something that will explode in your face.
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It is very rare, as a disabled person, that I have an intense sense of belonging, of being not just tolerated or included in a space, but actively owning it.
“Accommodations are things that we need, and deserve, in order to lead our lives. But they’re treated—we are treated—like we’re trying to pull one over on the rest of society.”
I want to surround myself with people who argue with me, for I learn so much more from these conversations.