PhilosopherCrip

The following is an interview I conducted with my good friend, Bethany, who recently launched the blog CripConfessions.com.  I must confess that I have thought of Bethany as a kindred spirit, ever since meeting her.  As fellow activist, disability studies scholar, and little person, we have shared a great deal over the years and here is a small tidbit for you all.  Go read her blog, it’s brilliant!

The radiantly brilliant, Bethany

Joe: I like the ring of your blog name, tell me more. What and why are you “confessing” and who is your confessor?

Bethany: I may as well start this sexy interview with a confession: I’m a nerd and proud of it. I LOVE alliterations and have embraced the label ‘crip.’ It signals disability pride and serves as a fun verbal slap on the face of the ableist world. Thus I needed a hot word to that started with ‘c’ in my title to satiate my need for mental masturbation.

Additionally, the overall purpose of my blog is to provide a platform for me to confess (i.e. share ideas that are traditionally not voiced) thoughts that I feel like disabled people just aren’t talking about publically, such as internalized ableism, the meanings of dating a nondisabled person, etc. I want to confess my truth because I think it can be a healthy catalyst for a communicative revolution. It is time we at least talk about these things with each other. I feel like here is a political impetus to be silent about some of the frustrating and painful aspects of disability, as we are all supposed to be pushing a disability positive narrative. Frankly, I feel that approach is not emotionally honest and actually can do us more harm than good.

Joe: What moved you to start a blog? What do you hope to accomplish with it?

Bethany: A noticed a disability blog carnival coming up on relationships and wanted to write something about my thoughts on my relationship. Being in a relationship with a nondisabled person has caused me to really think a lot of the desirability of my body and my ability to care. I wanted to share these thoughts with other disabled people in hopes of getting a conversation started on the topic. That’s one of my favorite things about social media – I can connect to a larger community of crips than those in my area. I feel connected to my people and thrive on that.

Also, I have been reading and thinking about the role of social media in translating research findings into mainstream culture. As a scholar-activist, I need to be intellectually rigorous but I also need to transmit these ideas to larger culture in order to try to create substantive social change. I see blogging, tweeting and Facebooking as wonderful outlets to help realize this desire. I have also decided I want to get into film making – because I realized if I disdain most representations of disabled people, why shouldn’t I create the media I want to see?

As I have said, I would like my blog to be a communicative catalyst to get people talking about things that we shy away from. I feel like confessing my truth – and thereby rendering myself really vulnerable publicly – can provide space for others to do the same. Through telling my truth, it may make it easier for others to be emotionally naked because we would all know we are not alone.

Joe: Talking about accomplishments, what kind of work do you do when you aren’t blogging? How do you see CripConfessions.com fitting in with the rest of your work in the disability community?

Bethany: I’m a trained lawyer and a sexologist. At the moment, I am clinical professor and policy analyst in the Center for Leadership in Disability at Georgia State University. I teach some classes, capacity build with our community partners, host events, and advise a disability student group on campus. I diligently strive to infuse everything I do with radical crip politics so that I remain true to my life purpose – the social amelioration of people with disabilities. When I was 20 I decided to devote my life to disability and I am sticking with that.

CripConfeesions fits into my overall work because I am devoted to raising awareness and creating social change for disabled people. Through blog posting, I hope to add to my other work by providing a personal glimpse into my nuanced reality. I want more people to understand that disability is not a personal tragedy, but is an artful way of being. Of course, as a sexologist, I also want people to see disabled people as desirable and viable sexual/love partners so I hope some of my posts make some people realize how deliciously sexy disabled people are. CripConfessions then is just one part of the overall revolution of consciousness I seek to be a part of.

And it’s really exciting that we are building a community of young scholar-activists. We are the upcoming leaders of our movement and I think it’s really beautiful that we support each other and our work. We need each other!

Bethany and I making a crip sandwich out of her partner, Sara, at the Atlanta ADAPT Action

Joe: Like myself, I have always thought of you as someone that fancies herself to be both a scholar and an activist. Do these roles ever come into conflict for you? Do you ever experience any dissonance when trying to work in two arenas with such different cultures and sets of values?

Bethany: You’re right; I’m a scholar-activist. The roles do conflict at times because my radical politics do not always feel satisfied in the work place. People do not want to hear about privilege and power at work; they want to do their jobs to get paid so they can live. But as an activist I can’t and won’t silence myself, sometimes to the determent of my mental health. A colleague recently told me that it must be exhausting to constantly view the world as animus filled against certain people and he is right – but that will not stop me. More people need to be critically conscious about their realities and I think it could be even more emotionally exhausting if I were silent about the issues I care most about.

Also, though the complaint has been levied by many people – it’s worth repeating: the academic world is not accessible to most people and some of the revolutionary ideas that are created in the ivory tower never reach the masses. I want to marry these two things. I want what I write and think about academically to become reality. This is why I have tried to work toward making my work more accessible; blogging has really helped me in this shift. I want to change the world not just publish or perish.

Joe: Why have you chosen to do both? Couldn’t such tension and conflicts be avoided by doing just one or the other? Is this a matter of personal life satisfaction or is it that you think your work is better served?

Bethany: Sure tension could be avoided if I would just shut-up and consent to being a cog in the interlocking systems of oppression that screw over countless people. I could have been a lawyer – slaving away at a job that means nothing to me for good pay but I would have hated myself and my life. I cannot live my life in a way that is not true to my crip ethos. It took years to be able to look in the mirror without cringing at my disabled body and I want to do everything I can to change social views of disability so people do not have to go through the self-loathing that I and so many of my comrades go through.

And honestly, the grappling of tension in my roles is good fodder for debates and adding nuance to my arguments – which is intellectually orgasmic! Being a person with multiple locations/identities and passions is the kind of human I want to be. It’s really the only way I know how to live.

Joe: A lot of folks that work in the disability community seem to have their niche passions and while I have met a few people really interested in the intersections of disability and sexuality, none have really made it into their life’s work, like you are. What’s the deal here? Why is crip sex so important to you personally and professionally?

Bethany: On a very base, primal level, I confess, I am a hedonist; I love pleasure.

But on a deeper level, I experienced a confluence of a few really pivotal things that shifted my life focus to sexuality. In 2005, I was in law school and with every passing day there, I lost faith in the law to create social change (the reason I went to law school in the first place). That spring I hosted a conference about sexuality and disability. It was the crowning achievement of the many events I hosted at the University of Florida because it ROCKED the campus! I brought together some really amazing people including artist/activist Sunny Taylor, motivational speaker Greg Smith, crip sexologist (and my mentor) Dr. Mitchell Tepper, and former adult film-star Bridget the Midget Powerz. I was right in thinking a former porn star would attract a crowd, even for a disability focused event. We had a great turn-out for the event despite the downpour of rain and we addressed some serious issues of internalized shame, feeling undesirable and discovering sexual pleasure. In the process, I learned how comfortable I am with talking about sexuality and that it is a real professional asset. The whole experience was really profound and the after-party was one of the best parties I have EVER been to

Less than a month later, I lost the first man I ever loved to suicide. Karl was a beautiful Norwegian that I met at a Rehabilitation International conference in Oslo. We shared views on disability pride, using the media as a tool for social change, among other similarities. I adored the man and spoke to him via phone and email as often as I could. We spoke of me moving to Norway after completing law school – and despite my serious weather bigotry (I’m a Florida girl), I was ready to move just to love him.

One morning he called me around 5 am to confess to me something he had struggled with telling me since we meet a year earlier. He explained he did not have normative erectile functioning stemming from his spinal cord injury he incurred 16 years before his confession to me. I explained to him that his penis was not what attracted me to him, that sex was bigger than a penis and that he could give and receive a lot of sexual pleasure. But my words did not meet him. That was the last we talked. I learned from his sister about a month later that he had hanged himself. It was one of the most devastating periods in my life and I credit my friends for keeping me alive. I struggled to eat during that period as I just did not want to take care of myself. I cried and felt purposeless for months.

I realized in the grieving process that I was not just mourning Karl’s death – but I was mourning all the other disabled people who suffer in silence over the issues of sexuality. I vowed then to devote my life to changing the conception of crip sexuality so that other people would not hurt the way Karl did.

This gets to the point of the importance of confessing; if Karl had confessed his pain sooner perhaps he could have processed it instead of ending his life.

Karl, a lost comrade

I haven’t had time, with the beginning of a very frantic semester, to write a new blog in a while.  While this isn’t really an original essay, I think readers will take away something from the video below where I and others are interviewed by the Michigan Disability Rights Coalition about the meaning of Disability Pride (turn on captioning by clicking the arrow button on the bottom right of the viewer).  The video is followed up by a paste of an email dialogue between myself and a friend who identifies as person with a disability and just began law school at MSU.  I think it gets at the heart of why pride is so central to our movement.

While we were ultimately successful at Senator Debbie Stabenow’s Lansing office this week, we definitely rocked the boat quite a bit, thus really upsetting some of the crew.  In fact, the Lansing contingent of MI-ADAPT’s bad behavior even earned us a phone call the next day to our state organizer from one of the senior staffers.  It felt something like when you get in trouble at school and get a phone call to your parents that evening.  Except, in this case, we could count on the recipient of the call to be in on the act instead of ready to send us to our rooms with no dinner.  For the moment, I’m going to put aside how absurd it is for a government official to call and chastise a direct action activism group (she works for the people and should be the one afraid of displeasing us).  Rather, I’m going to write a few quick words about why it is non-violent, direct action, civil disobedience is necessary in American politics and how it is so very effective.  That is, this blog will be aimed at readers who are confused or upset by the notion that someone might use civil disobedience to “strong arm” others in negotiations amidst a democratic society.  I will do this in the context of other struggles for liberation, partially as a tribute to Black History Month.

Let’s start by pointing out some big differences between the context of our use of civil disobedience and the more familiar and more widely accepted usages of it by 1960s era civil rights leaders.  At the most obvious level, there is a difference in who is committing the civil disobedience. This is nothing more than the simple observation that crips are not a racial minority.  Moreover, we do not have the same history as black Americans and the nature of our oppression, while sharing some structural similarities, is not the same.  While we are also fighting for the end to institutionalized segregation (in nursing homes) and violence (physical and emotional abuse, and killing, that happens in these places), there are many differences between these experiences, most of which I can not even fully see or understand as a white male.

Black activists are met with violence in Birmingham, AL 1963

There is also a substantive difference in how the civil disobedience is carried out.  The famous actions of MLK highlighted the injustice of segregationist laws by breaking those very same laws.  The idea was, if it’s illegal for people of color to sit at the same lunch counter as everyone else, we are going to clog the lunch counters and make them lose business or have us arrested so that the world sees how wrong this is.  In the case of ADAPT’s actions, the laws we are resisting are not as straightforward and not as easily broken.  Medicaid regulations aren’t the type of things you can directly flout en mass to raise public outcry at their injustice.  I can’t even imagine what this would even look like.  How might we break the unjust laws of the institutional bias that incarcerates our people in nursing homes in a way that would be public and raise the tension around this issue to the surface of public consciousness where it can be seen by everyone and not just those that are suffering and dominated?

I don’t think that because we can not directly break the unjust laws with our actions it means that our civil disobedience is somehow unjustified.  It seems that the balance of power between the powerful and the marginalized is as scewed as ever and non-violent, civil disobedience is a viable tactic.

First, and most obviously, it raises the issue to public consciousness.  The drama of sit ins and arrests makes people talk.  What are these people doing?  What issue is so important to them that they are willing to sacrifice their bodies in this way?  Even the most negative response of “that’s not the way democracy works” at least gets people to acknowledge the issue at hand, which is difficult for a marginalized group that is so often swept aside for “sexier” political issues.

This week, MI-ADAPT’s action didn’t get to the point of police and TV crews, but it functioned as a negotiation tactic.  No one explains how civil disobedience is PART of the negotiation process better than the man himself, MLK, in “Letter From a Birmingham Jail” after he was imprisoned during the Birmingham lunch counter sit ins, “You may well ask: ‘Why direct action? Why sit-ins, marches and so forth? Isn’t negotiation a better path?’  You are quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue.”  When there is such an imbalance of power that a marginalized group is not even allowed the common courtesy of serious consideration and negotiation, that is when non-violence must come in to play to put the negotiations back into balance.

This is exactly what happened at the Senator’s office last Tuesday.  Let me back up.  Over the past 2 years, MI-ADAPT had sent emails requesting co-sponsorship of the CCA that were responded to with form letters.  We had requested formal meetings to talk about our issue with the Senator and were told to wait and that they would “get back to us.” Once, some of our members showed up in the Senator’s DC office to see if she was there and might at least say a quick hello.  He caught her in the hall and was told she had already intended to sign on to the CCA and it must have been a staff oversight.  Clearly, this is a pattern of people with disabilities being swept aside and told to wait.  It was not an outright hostility, but it was a clear message that we are not a priority and our lives and liberty don’t matter as much as the issues she was dealing with.  This message came through loud and clear in Stabenow’s Lansing office this week.  Again, we were told they would pass along the message, but we would have to wait.  They could not guarantee support, they could not even guarantee a meeting about the substance of the issue.  That is, we were being told that THEY have the power and were not letting go of it.  THEY controlled if negotiations even would happen and were not about to give any ground.

ADAPTers getting arrested at national action in Nashville, TN 2006 (photo by Tom Olin)

It was only after we realized that we were not being negotiated with in a serious way because we were perceived as powerless that we moved to take back the power we needed in order to get the attention our brothers and sisters dieing in institutions deserve.  The chanting and blocking of the office exits was not a move at coercion, but a move to get their attention and become an urgent priority rather than a marginalized group that could be ignored.

This is the state of American politics.  It is built around a system in which big campaign contributors have access to the law makers and the rest of us are told to stand in line indefinitely.  When we do not have deep pockets, we need to find other ways of becoming a priority for our “public servants.”  Even those who are not directly hostile to our cause, like Debbie Stabenow who HAS supported de-institutionalization in the past, serve the whims of the already powerful.  The issues that have her attention — and the attention of every other legislator — are those that serve the interests of the wealthy and the connected.  To become a priority and to get her attention as a group deserving negotiation, we could not use our bank accounts, so, in the tradition of other marginalized groups, we used our bodies and our voices.

To supplement my last post encouraging readers to track the adventures of MI-ADAPT via twitter.com, I thought I’d add a few words about what ADAPT is exactly.  I lifted the various pieces this description off of the national org’s website, but feel it accurately describes the MI chapter as well.

The Main Issue at Hand: For decades, people with disabilities, both old and young, have wanted alternatives to nursing homes and other institutions when they need long term services. Our long term care system has a heavy institutional bias. Every state that receives Medicaid MUST provide nursing home services, but community based services are optional. Sixty seven (67%) percent of Medicaid long term care dollars pay for institutional services, while the remaining thirty three (33%) must cover all the community based waivers, optional programs, etc.  Families are in crisis. When support services are needed there are no real choices in the community. Whether a child is born with a disability, an adult has a traumatic injury or a person becomes disabled through the aging process, they overwhelmingly wan t their attendant services provided in their own homes, not nursing homes or other large institutions. People with disabilities and their families will no longer tolerate being forced into selecting institutions. It’s time for Real Choice.  The Community Choice Act provides an alternative and will fundamentally change our long term care system and the institutional bias that now exists. Building on the Money Follows the Person concept, the two million Americans currently residing in nursing homes and other institutions would have a choice.

History: ADAPT has a long history of organizing in the disability community and using civil disobedience and similar non-violent direct action tactics to achieve its goals. In 1983, as a project of the Atlantis Community in Denver, ADAPT began its national campaign for lifts on buses and access to public transit for people with disabilities. ADAPT started as American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit. For seven years ADAPT blocked buses in cities across the US to demonstrate the need for access to public transit. Many went to jail for the right to ride. In the early 1990s the County and City of Denver and Denver RTD placed a plaque at the intersection on Colfax where the Atlantis Community held the first inaccessible bus and this was one of the first historic markers in the struggle for disability rights. Wade Blank, a founder of Atlantis and ADAPT, used to take all visitors to see it, and always brought a bottle of Fantastic to clean it up. ADAPT played a major role in gaining passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, ADA, particularly in ADA’s stringent requirements relating to accessible transit, and its being seen as a civil rights law. Passage of this bill has meant victory for ADAPT in our struggle for lifts on buses. Once the transit issue was won and access was begun to be guaranteed, ADAPT felt it was clear attendant services must be our next issue. In a national planning meeting July 1990, ADAPT targeted the reallocation of one quarter of the federal and state Medicaid dollars from institutional programs to consumer controlled community based programs. ADAPT now also stands for American Disabled For Attendant Programs Today. Since then, ADAPT has decided our name will no longer be an acronym (it’s hard to fit all the issues into those letters) so we are simply ADAPT, but we are still fighting for community services and supports for people with disabilities of all ages.

Recently, my friend Annie passed away at the age of 24.  Some of you may know Annie, as she was a crip in Chicago who was a regular face at the Pride Parade selling her 3eLove Tshirts.  The name of this small business was itself a moral imperative issued by Annie’s basic philosophy of life, “Embrace diversity. Educate your community. Empower each other. Love life.”  3eLove was one of Annie’s many projects.  I don’t think anyone knew the details of all the work she did in the crip community and, surely, only Annie’s mind contained the seeds of the work she planned to do.  It’s my understanding that some of those plans included “beginning her PhD coursework in Community Health, suing the hell out of the state of Illinois for all of the misery that they put her through over P.A. hours, helping me [her brother, Stephen] write a disability education model and marketing it to school districts, writing a book, going on Oprah, and then going on a national ass-kicking tour.”  Those were just her plans for the year 2009 and, knowing Annie, they weren’t that exaggerated. To get a sense of the circumstances of Annie’s passing, check out the facebook note her brother wrote about those series of events.  That is not my story to tell.

Knowing Annie as a person and as an advocate (I don’t like the term, but it’s one she used to describe herself), there seemed to be a unity to her work.  That unity was a radical pride and active rejection of the stigma and shame that society heaps upon crips.

Let me back track a bit.  We are told that the kinds of help we need is not “normal” and that our way of living is one that should happen in isolation.  Even still, this isolation is enforced with the coerced segregation of people with disabilities into nursing homes and institutions.  We are seen as the Other and told that having “pride” means hiding anything about us that deviates from the cultural norms.  Even some of my most powerful activist friends struggle with shame at some of the ways their life is different from the typical.  They want to hide the markings and symbols of their difference because that is what we are told “prideful” people do… they try to normalize and assimilate as much as possible.  I know I have been guilty of this as well throughout my life.

The beautiful, inspirational Anne Marie Hopkins, 1984-2009

This definition of pride is what Annie made an active attempt to completely and utterly demolish.  The insight that Annie taught me is that crip pride is not about banners and marches and t-shirts and policy papers.  Crip pride is as simple to understand as it is morally grueling to achieve — we must live visibly on our own terms, as we are, without apology or shame.  This is what Annie achieved in a way that I have never before witnessed, but hope to witness again in others among our community.

To understand what I am talking about, take a sample of how she lived her life as a crip publicly and without shame by checking out her blog, “Annie D and the Band of Love.”  Some instances of her truly radical pride would be her description of her newly hired personal assistant who, allegedly, dreams of becoming a porn star, “I’m sure wiping ass and hanging out with me will only add to Jame’s qualifications as a cockstar. He is quite pleasant to look at which helps with my well being, porn star or not” … or her cat “For some reason, every cat I have own has always loved to chill in my wheelchair. It always has to be at a very bad time, like when my PAs are trying to move me from my bed to my chair or from the toilet to the chair. He’s always gotta be there. He’s an attention whore I guess” … or her roommate/PA who she keeps around “because he can entertain himself, but we also spend a lot of time together eating, recreating, getting awesome, watching instant netflix, completing our studies, dancing around the apartment, traveling, pooping, urinating, and farting, dog walking, smelling like onions, holding down facilities at UIC, reading and listening to audiobooks.”  Unfortunately, her blog was a relatively new project and so there aren’t as many postings as I wish there were.  I wish Annie had had more time to teach us how to live well.

Annie’s way of living seems to really come up against the “supercrip” narrative in some interesting ways.  The supercrip phenomenon is one of the common possible responses our American culture offers in public interaction.  That is, many times, both strangers and friends will go out of there way to tell a person with a disability how “inspirational” or “amazing” they are, as they go about their daily routine.  Of course, the unspoken premise behind this is a very low set of expectations for people with disabilities more broadly.  “Wow!  Look at that! You go out to eat at restaurants on the weekends and sometimes see a movie!”  The harm of the supercrip narrative is that, by setting up everyday activities as “amazing,” it obscures the idea that people with disabilities SHOULD be doing these everyday things as an accepted and integrated part of the community.  That is, its foundation is the notion that disability itself is something that is overcome rather than social and environmental barriers.  Put another way, the problem with the supercrip narrative is that it implies that the disabled life is, fundamentally, of less value.  The only way average, everyday activities can be seen as amazing and inspirational is if that person is starting off from a very dismal place.  Supercrips are seen as the exception to the rule of disability misery.

Professor Charles Xavier -- some crips really DO have super powers!!!

So, what then, are we to make of Annie’s celebration of everyday life?  If we understand her as inspirational or amazing, are we just dressing up the supercrip narrative in new clothes?  I really don’t think that is the case.  In fact, I think what Annie was doing was dismantling some of those hidden premises to the supercrip narrative.  By rejecting the shame in having her butt wiped and living pridefully, Annie was rejecting the notion that disability is something you “overcome.”  For Annie, her disability was part of her joy in living.  She unapologetically displayed how she had a good life not DESPITE her disability but WITH her disability.  If we could all live like Annie, someday the only supercrips around will be the X-Men.