FIFTEEN

My experience with queerness and disability are inextricably interwoven, an interdependence of present and future self. Both identities bloomed when I decided to be my best; not anyone else’s ideal, but my own. I was not given a choice about my body, my mind, or my heart; there was no failure, no shortcoming. Anyone can become disabled, most will. And anyone can be queer if they allow themselves authenticity.

Both identities carry the weight of societal stigma, not because they are wrong, but because they are misunderstood. I feel no shame about who I am, my queer, disabled body. I work twice as hard to have a life others take for granted. To move freely, to live freely, to love freely, to be who I am is that much harder. The prejudice, the discrimination, the inaccessibility are challenges outside of myself; being who I am doesn’t make my life harder, the world I live in does.

I choose visibility in all things, I live my life loudly for others to hear in hopes they suffer in any way less. Visible queerness, visible disability make it safe for others to be visible, as well; we are better when we are ourselves, when we are together. My visibility, my acceptance of self, my pride is my answer. Everything that I do is that much harder, but I am that much stronger.