Living at the Intersections: Black, Queer, Disabled, and Still Here!

Finding supportive community

Hello Lovelies,

  In this current world we are living in, being a Black, Queer, Afro-Caribbean woman is already a radical act of survival. Add Deafness, autism, physical disabilities, and motherhood to the mix, and suddenly, my very existence feels like a protest. Not only am I navigating systems that were not built for me, but I'm also raising two neurodivergent rockstar mini-me's inside those same systems while being denied the services we are legally and ethically entitled to as human beings.

I ask for help for my children, and I for years on end, and am met with silence, dismissal, denial, and within this current political environment, they don't even pretend to care.

My Identities Are Not Separate. They Intersect!

I can't untangle the web that is me, the very things that make up my essence. I can't untangle my Blackness from my Deafness or my Queerness, from my Autism, nor would I want to. I cannot "separate" these things from my disabilities or motherhood. My identities don't just coexist, they collide, Hard-Body! Each one shapes and determines my treatment in the world and how I experience that treatment. When a system denies me access, it's rarely about one part of me. It's a combination. I'm seen as too much, too complex, too poor to help.

The System Isn't Broken-It Was Never Built For Us!

When my kids and I are denied access to services, I am supposed to smile and accept it, like it didn't happen, while they sweep it under the rug without a second thought. No explanation.

Now, what does that say about society when multitudes of families, like mine, have to fight so hard to survive? I've been dismissed by doctors who ignore my pain and assume I'm exaggerating or drug seeking. I've watched them imply that I and my various disabilities are the problem, not the system. I've heard "We'll get back to you" more than "you deserve support." The worst part is the invalidation and gaslighting. They make me feel like it's my fault for needing help.

Mothering In The Margins:

Raising NeuroSpicy Black children as a NeuroSpicy mother is a special kind of heartbreak and love. I see their brilliance, sensitivity, fire, and struggles. I know how the world won't treat them gently, and how it tries to discipline away their magic and magnificence. I fight for them every day. I ask for kindness, demand access, and I fill out paperwork. I wait. I beg. I advocate, and I get denied. They are my children. Why must they carry the weight of my exhaustion too?!

Still, I Hope:

There are days I want to disappear. Days I feel invisible. Often wondering if all of this is worth it? Does it even matter? That's when I remember that the system wants me to give up, to fail.

That's how they win! So, I will write, show up, and I won't disappear. I will continue to demand better for myself and my children. For every other BIPOC, disabled, Queer, marginalized person screaming into the void. I believe we must continue to fight for ourselves and those who can't fight for themselves.

If you are reading this and have ever been made to feel like you are "too much", you are not!

You are you, and your identities, your very being, is a whole-ass VIBE! Remember, you are needed, your existence and resistance will ALWAYS be enough!

WE ARE NOT ALONE!

-Stay Lovely-