November 4, 2008

casting my ballot

“hey lady! hey lady! they have curbside voting!”
a group of 15 or 20 people stand on the sidelines and shout at me as i get out on the lift of my van.

“i know, that’s great, but I’M going to vote INSIDE!” i yell back loudly, annoyed at having to have said this allllll morning already (i have some serious health issues going on & it seems as though everyone and their mother had a personal investment in making sure i did not go out in the rain).

i expect the crowd to be embarrassed or something but instead they erupt in cheers, clapping, and you-go-girl!s.

what’s more american dream-y than the disenfranchised stepping to the polls, right? i walk by, waving at all of the people like a star.

just kidding. the totally fun moment turns serious when one of the folks breaks the line and approaches me:

“i just want to say thank you.”
she says all big eyed

“for what?” i ask pretending like i don’t know. i’m about to be really annoyed if she’s going to go inspirational crip on me and ruin my big first-time voting moment.

“for coming out to vote.”

oh great. she really is going to ruin my moment! damn! i brace myself for the on-coming pity party.

she continues:
“my husband is handicapped. he just began riding an electric chair and i couldn’t get him to come volunteer with me. a few weeks ago he was at a store and after knocking out a whole aisle of candy, he is too embarrassed to come out. plus with transportation being the way it is, everything set up against you, you know?”

i nod and explain that for the first year that i used a powerchair, my specific expertise was in knocking down store displays, particularly large pyramids of shoe boxes. she smiles in shared understanding and continues to open up, telling me more about all the issues her husband is facing as someone who has just acquired a disability. we brainstorm solutions and exchange phone numbers. i go inside, vote, wave to her, and leave.

i’m not much for electoral politics but moments like these really remind me how important policy and participating in the political process can be as tools for the advancement of disabled people. as disabled people, our lives are intertwined in the system. the stakes are high and bad policies play out in intimate, real ways for each of us. i have hope that next time elections come around, she and her husband will be out on the sidelines together.

“Vote as if your life depended on it. It does.” Justin Dart.

November 2, 2008

you can vote however you like video

seriously not sure if i should be screaming youth power
or squealing over how cute (and bipartisan) these students are:

(h/t to the good folks over at double consciousness. lyrics below the cut)
Keep reading →

November 2, 2008

[event] Toronto: Anti-Racism For (Dis)abled Folks

Anti-Racism For (Dis)abled Folks: An Interactive Workshop
Led by Colin K Donovan

November 6, 2008 from 6-8 at the Senator Croll Apt, Common Room (341 Bloor Street W near St. George).

Join us as we explore the complexities of white supremacy within the (dis)ability movement. How does white privilege shape activism, lives and experiences with in a broad variety of (dis)ability and psychiatric survivor movements? What does it mean to model anti-ableist work after successful struggles led by folks of color while the (dis)ability movement continues to be white-dominated? Using Theater of the Oppressed/Oppressor techniques, we will explore these and other questions of allyship and accountability. No previous acting experience needed, just come ready to participate!

Email femmegimp@hotmail.com for more information.

November 1, 2008

singing the mixed girl blues

he thinks my friend and i are blood
(she is near 6 feet tall. i am 4’9.)
i laugh politely
(she has blonde hair. my hair is red lacquer brown.)
hiding my disappointment
(she is white. do i look white?)

sometimes i can see how people could think we’re related
the only time my tongue is accentuated with ah-cham! and aihigoos is when in despair
my pale red-cheeked skin is only olive during the summer time
my thoughts are articulated through southern y’alls, random oh mys, and valley girl “totally like y’know, right?…!”
disappointed i leave the coffee shop
wondering if i should be wearing shit with dragons and cherry blossoms on it
throwing kung-fu kicks around
maybe being his asian american stereotype is better than this.

whenever i feel alone— like now, when people mistake me for white—
i bring my hands to my face
you are there, hidden in the crevices of my palms
whispering “remember me even when it is easy to forget”
yes. especially when it is easiest to forget.
i think about what struggle my ancestors have been through so i can sit here
and do silly things
like lament identity and perceived whiteness

whenever i am ashamed of my broken korean or misspelled hangul
i run my fingers through my hair,
hearing the plucking of gayageums and the sweep of hanboks brushing against the floor
the harmony of fans, drums, and people remind me that we share more than consonants and vowels
i smile, thankful for this heritage

whenever i feel lost in anti-racist work, wondering where my people fit into this black-white dichotomy that does not allow room for families being torn apart by ice raids,
leaves out colonization so we can focus on “issues at home”
and saves stolen land as a topic for later discussion
(while simultaneously wondering where all the non-black people of color are gonna represent)
i want to scream!
instead i think of my sisters and the amazing support system we’ve built for each other
not coalition building, no
but community building and community weaving
inspired by their work and love i keep on

i remember
i myself
am a mixed girl
who is loved
by other mixed girls
by negotiators of this body
lovers of this skin
other occupiers of fuzzy, seemingly conflicting
identities and space
i am loved
and this is enough.