i hope to shine golden
high and tall
blinking survivor signals
for those crashed and
tossed from the cliffs
of human cruelty.
lay your essence upon my
shore for a moment
weary traveler.
let my shattered soul suns
reflect on you
glory and divinity.
let my love be a golden
mirror. let it show you
only truth and never
shame.
bless your hands & your hearts
& dancing your own dances
& the earth that is still green & blue
bless you
bless your life & how you live it
bless the makings you make
& the tools you use
bless you
bless the chants you chant
& the songs you sing
bless your feelings
bless you
bless your hair & your eyes
& your beautiful face
bless the beauty you make
bless you
bless your gods & goddesses
bless the prayers on your lips
bless the rhythm in your hips
bless you
bless your food & your table
bless your grace & your faith
& the family you choose
bless you
bless your resistance
bless your screams
bless your anger
bless you
bless your world
i pray for your world
i fight for your world
i fight for you
bless your children & their children
bless the games you play
& the joy you make
bless you
bless the shine that shines
down the line
the generations that shined
shined for you too
bless you
bless you in the mirror
bless you in the street
bless you on land
bless you at sea
bless your travels
bless your longings
bless your struggles
bless you
bless your freedom
bless your liberation
bless your knowings
bless you
bless you wild
bless you loud
bless your anger
bless you
bless you gentle
bless you soft
bless your kindness
bless you
bless your world
i pray for your world
i fight for your world
my blessing to you
warning: this poem may be triggering for survivors of abuse
“too often
must dodge & weave
unknown traumas
within my mind
to find my way safely
thru this life”
– maggie grace
we were enchanted children
indigo grrrls
unpaid sex workers
sucking cocks
they shot darkness
behind the curtains
of our throats
children at their banquets
children are banquets
grandfathers hands
knead shoulders, heads
labor labor never rest
soldier children
stiff with one purpose
SURVIVE
this hidden universe
ancient
generational
forbidden to name
they split us
and split us
and split us
and split us
they forced themselves
in every crack
there is no hiding
we knew that
and we broke
we broke
we are broke
broken backwards children
grace you are called grace
grace you are the cracks
grace you are the puzzle
and the web
oh leysh i want to call you
grace. i should have called
you grace. i should have known
you live in these cracks too.
oh leysh oh leysh
oh fuck you oh ayuniz
oh habibtiz oh victims
sacred victims
i call you grace
sacred victim
reviled survivor
we come unglued
we fall through our cracks
we don’t have the power
to go back and have
acceptable childhoods
we thought they had
all the power
we thought they had
the whole world
but they didn’t have the cracks
we live here in the cracks
oh my young artist
learn to love the cracks
this web we are weaving
is held by grace
this freedom we are singing
is loved by grace
grace’s hand on my heart
squeezes til the tears come
grace’s hand on my life
keeps me steady for joy
this art isn’t finished
the enemy is within us
our power is grace
grace be with us
text of the pdf “Supporting Survivors of Sexual Assault with Disabilities.” transcribed for accessibility. original pdf here:
http://www.evawintl.org/Library/DocumentLibraryHandler.ashx?id=493
A special information packet produced by
2010
California Coalition Against Sexual Assault (CALCASA)
1215 K Street, Suite 1100
Sacramento, CA 95814
Tel: 916.446-2520 www.calcasa.org
Creating Access
Supporting Survivors of Sexual Assault with Disabilities
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface and Acknowledgments
Introduction
Legal Rights for Americans with Disabilities
The Intersections of Ableism and Other Oppressions
Prevalence of Sexual Violence and Abuse of Persons with Disabilities
The Dynamics of Ableism and Sexual Violence
The Power and Control Wheel: A Tool for Recognizing Abuse of Persons with Disabilities
10 Tips for Creating Accessibility
Suggestions for Improving Physical Accessibility
Outreach Strategies
Prevention Strategies
Appendix A: Key Terms and Definitions of Disability
Appendix B:Resources
Continue reading “Creating Access Supporting Survivors of Sexual Assault with Disabilities”
1.
if your story is dull
water on stone
wearing you down until
one day there’s this
deep depression
right in the center of you
and there’s nothing left
to study but that hole
in your middle
and the whole has teeth
and the money never comes
and you find your eyes
they weigh a thousand pounds
the boulder that is
your whole your hole
and it has teeth. rotten
teeth that ache in your mouth
and gnash in your sleep
2.
if your story is horrible
and plain when it lays
beside the pain of the world
and the hole grumbles
and sends its stuff all over
your aching body
and all your friends have
wholes too,
and aching bodies
and terrible stories
and the world is a wave
that crashes on you over
and over on all of you
and you try to keep each other’s
hands but your fingers slip
away from each other
and all your pain and your
aching bodies and the
drone of the wave
it’s so loud
so fucking loud
but you learn to drown it out
with the television the
internet and those hands
hands you maybe never seen
3.
if you fold these ghosts
into your heart between
two delicate leaves
even as the waves are
crashing and the noise
is echoing through you
and the leaves fall away
one at a time or
in a great rush
and your tears fall
like rain and your screams
disappear into the ocean
4.
if you are lonely and whole
and you’ve met the maw
in your inmost being
if you are sad and aching
and loving and fierce
and exhausted
hold on
hold on
hold on
hold on
hold on
the arithmetic of lies
2 + 2 = believe me
2 + 2 = i will save you
2 + 2 = don’t worry your pretty little head
i came to help
don’t fight it
the arithmetic of vengeance
2 + 2 = some kind of better life without you
2 + 2 = this longing is not for you
2 + 2 = give me something for this pain
fuck aspirin
this is existential
the arithmetic of illness
2 + 2 = my shattered nerves
2 + 2 = somebody’s pain scale
2 + 2 = everyone leaves
suitcase full of symptoms
see it dragging behind
the arithmetic of hope
2 + 2 = flowers that bloom and die
2 + 2 = flowers don’t do arithmetic
2 + 2 = what is hope
2 + 2 = the nature of this flower is to die
2 + 2 = withering is part of the deal
2 + 2 = is hope the opposite of letting go
i’m falling
always falling
never landing
never ending
never sure
never promised
never the same
never again
1
stretch towards me
tell me your secrets
i think of myself,
you
everyone does it
not hard to see the resemblance
i love and share your femmestache
our eyes that burn
our art that slips under the carpets
our gender fierceness
our light skin and dark hair
was your room your kingdom
your bed throne
i can’t talk about you
i can only ask
i don’t know things
i don’t know things
about you
2
were you jewish
i am jewish
brown jew
not brown and jew
not arab and jew
brown jew mizrahi jew
3
were you beautiful to them
was it because of your light skin
were you ugly to them
was it because of your brokenness
how did you find your lovers
did they seek you out
were they afraid of breaking you more
did you experience much
physical pleasure
did your lovers
please you
how how how?
how did you live
how did you eat
who fed you
how how how?
did you drown in your
aloneness
did your art keep you
in company
were you quarantined for hours
days
months
years
4
how did you find me
how did you know i needed you
i found you after my own accident
cracked skull and dead friend
five of us survived
it wasn’t me who needed you then
amiga boliviana
she tattooed your brokenness
claimed you as her own
i drowned in bible verses
brain injured stupor
words and numbers
floated around my fractured head
but you came back to me
how did you know
5
my body is my kingdom
i believe in my existence
i wear you when i create
your stare comforts me
i wear this brittle existence
like a crown of thorns
i think i float
when angels carry me
my labor uncompensated
my art unrecognized
my anger wrapped in cloth
and exhaustion
6
i don’t know how to stay alive
you carry me
i don’t know how to exist
you validate me
i don’t know how to bear the pain
you comfort me
i don’t know why i am invisible
you recognize me
i don’t know how to breathe
you breathe through me
several years ago, I started a group on facebook called sick and disabled queers. over the years it has grown to hundreds of members and has become a lifeline for many folks, contributed to the disability justice movement, developed terminology and language that centers disabled queers, and created a model for how to center people of color in an interracial setting.
apparently today my group was deleted without notice for violating facebook’s terms of service.
update: the group was reinstated but it’s still an example of facebook’s oppressive and arbitrary policies.
thank you pain
you bitch
thank you
you’ve made me your bitch
pain and i’m grateful i’m
so so grateful
you rip through me
deeper than any orgasm
thank you bitch
you pain
thank you
you’ve got me
collared pain
thank you
you touch my body
fingers of flame
every day
your love is so intense
pain you bitch
oh and every day you
fuck me til i cry
howling
oh god
oh!
you rip my thoughts
out of my head pain
thank you
nothing else matters
when i’m with you
just you and me
in the sheets
howling and clawing
in honor of the 2013 nfl kickoff, i’ve dug up my “feminist football fan” podcast files and am releasing this final interview:
listen to basil interview me in 2010 about loving football and men.
i had to cancel my podcast as my lung condition was worsening and i had to basically stop talking for a while.