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.
Oxford English Dictionary
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How can I say that I fear I’ll never date again without feeding the monster? No one owes me their touch; I am starving for it just the same.
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I want to surround myself with people who argue with me, for I learn so much more from these conversations.
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.
I want to believe that I inherited too ways of feeling joy, ways of finding pleasure, ways of being with other queers in raucous and wild ways.