have i told y’all that i love john boyega? bc i love john boyega a lot
Category: Uncategorized
Fair Play,
Sainte Genevieve, Missouri, January 7, 1905
THE HORROR
*sharpens knives*
I had to take a sensitivity training refresher course recently (not because I was insensitive, we all did) and at one point they listed symptoms of possible mental health issues. It felt like Tumblr needed this reaction image.
Who’s Disabled?
People sometimes ask, “Is it okay for me to say I’m disabled?” What do they mean? A variety of things, I think:
• They have some condition that’s in the ballpark of disability, but they have struggled personally over whether they themselves want to identify as disabled.
• They view themselves as disabled in some way, but worry that other disabled people won’t accept that, or that they will be accused of “appropriating” disability identity and culture.
• They think that if they refer to themselves as “disabled”, their friends and families will be sad or disapprove, or worse … believe they are faking in order to gain some kind of advantage or benefit.
• They are focused on one of the more narrow, specific definitions of “disabled,” such as qualifying for Social Security Disability, being entitled to a “handicapped parking” permit, or being covered under the Americans with Disabilities Act.
• They take the word “disabled” very literally, to mean unable to do anything. From this point of view it can seem both inaccurate, (everybody can do SOMETHING), and discouraging … as if calling yourself disabled is not only descriptive, but predictive.
I’ve thought about it a lot, and here is the definition of disability that makes the most sense to me. It’s a personal definition, not a legal or bureaucratic one:
If you have a physical or mental condition that you have to think about and plan around every day, then you are disabled.
This definition encompasses any physical, mental, cognitive, and sensory impairments. I personally don’t include temporary impairments, impairments that are seamlessly adapted, (like glasses for nearsightedness), or ordinary variations in personality, talent, and physical makeup.
Any thoughts?
What do folks think?
nelc:
Ursula Vernon’s Certificate of Bad Artistry, for those days when it’s just not coming together.
When I was a very small child, my mom used to bury coins in my sandbox, leave huge boot prints in the sand, and tell me pirates had come in the night and buried treasure. I would be out there happily for hours, with my little sieve, and my mom got a quiet morning to herself for the price of a handful of pennies.
I was always kind of skeptical about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, because visiting every kid in the world did not seem reasonable. But the pirates only visited me, so they were probably real.
So that’s the story of how I ended up being an archaeologist. How about you?
The Stages of Not Leaving Your Apartment.
Magical Vintage Harry Potter Book Covers By Olly Moss
I Will Not Be Eaten
The true feminine
I am not sugar and spice and everything nice. I am music, I am art. I am a story. I am a church bell, gonging out wrongs and rights and normal nights. I was baby. I am child. I will be mother. I don’t mind being considered beautiful, I do not allow that to be my definition. I am a rich pie strong with knowledge. I will not be eaten.
