Edited: March 14th, 2015
Edited: March 13th, 2015
Edited: March 9th, 2015
“It’s always exciting to make a new friend. You maybe see them around a few times before you start getting to know them. As you get closer, you notice all the things you have in common. You get a little crush on them, seeing how sweet and funny and smart and sexy and badass they are. You find yourself talking about them to other friends, noticing things that would make them smile. You feel protective, wanting to make the world a better place for them.
It really sucks when that person is already dead.
More and more these days, I find myself making friends with someone after they’ve died. Through photos and stories from loved ones, at protests and ceremonies, and through the details of their traumatic deaths at the hands of police officers, I become entwined in their legacies. I find myself grieving the loss of someone I never knew, trying to take on some of the weight that has fallen on their families. It is painful. And confusing. And necessary.
I’d like to introduce you to Kayla Moore. Kayla is a black trans woman who grew up in Berkeley. Just a few years older than me, I imagine we would have hung out in high school. She was a punk rocker. She was fancy. She had fierce fashion. She was smart and quick to respond when people tried to put her down. She loved to go out dancing. She wrote gothic poetry. She worked from home as a phone sex operator. She was schizophrenic. She was an auntie who loved her baby niece. She was a big fat curvy babe.”
See the full article here, at The Body Is Not An Apology
Edited: March 4th, 2015
“Soon after I moved to San Francisco eight years ago, I was introduced to radical crip artist/activists Leroy Moore and Patty Berne, and the project they founded, Sins Invalid. I had recently been approved for federal disability benefits, and though I have a lifelong disability and have been an activist since I was a teenager – and even though I’d spent the past fifteen years doing fat liberation work, and the past five years doing personal work around the legacy of medical trauma in my life – I had not figured out a way to integrate my politics within a bigger framework of disability activism.
Sitting in the audience the first time I got to see a Sins Invalid show, I witnessed some of the most radical work I’d ever seen or imagined. I watched Lateef McLeod, a beautiful black man with cerebral palsy, recite poetry through an electronic talker and get almost naked, crawling on the floor in front of a mirror under a giant full moon. I watched porn by Loree Erickson, a queer white femme wheelchair user, heard poetry by Latina wheelchair goddess Maria Palacios, and witnessed a performance by white genderqueer crip seeley quest, who did a lap dance while wearing a molded plastic back brace. Planted in my theater seat with my fake leg tucked under my chair, I felt a familiar but all-too-uncommon sensation: an urgency, a current in my body saying “This is the moment, step into it, this is where it’s happening.” I wanted in.”
See the full article here, at The Body Is Not An Apology.
Edited: March 1st, 2015