There’s a certain person whom i know on Facebook. Let’s call her Pearl. She is in a wheelchair for this horribly painful disease, but has not let that stop her from writing successful books. Her books feature people with disabilities being heroes. They are supposed to be great. I haven’t gotten a chance to read them because I haven’t found them.
She is going to have a booth at the county book fair, so I plan to go and get my autographed book there. She seems approachable online.
She is the best kind of advocate for disability rights because she has lived it and still managed to achieve some of her dreams. She is nice and doesn’t seem to play up her problem. I want to make sure that I don’t make her larger than life because if I meet her and she’s mean or something then it will ruin it.
There is extensive competition in the world of writing. She and I are both writers who identify as having a disability. It is not because we chose to tell people but that people found out due to our appearances. Whatever.
I don’t feel disabled.
I am reading this book called About Us by The New York Times Series on Disability. One of the editors made so much sense on two points. I just got the book so I imagine that there will be many points to learn from. One talked about how everyone has some barrier that they have to overcome to achieve their desired result. While they are held back by this obstacle, be it be systemic or otherwise, they have a disability in a way of thinking. Another point was that she did not want anyone singling her out because of her depression.
As long as people think that those with disabilities cannot do what others do like work, have children, have relationships or play leisure activities, there will be this discrimination. There is the ADA and that sort of thing is illegal, but bullying and discrimination still exist even in the places where people go for help.
The prison pipeline is there for people with SMI and whoever doesn’t believe that has not spoken to enough parents, resilients and medical people. (I don’t like the word consumers to describe people who live with SMI so I call people who cope with these tragic problems as resilients. The main characteristic is resilience.)
Yesterday, my husband and I walked to the bus stop two blocks away. In the drainage along the curb was a plant. It was growing in the middle of what seemed to be uninhabitable concrete. It was there reaching for the sky, rain and sun as if daring someone to cut it down. We have noticed that plant for years. A couple of times, someone has cut it down, but it always comes back.