disability

This assumption that I would want to hide my hearing aids always feels to me like a hint that I should be embarrassed by my disability — but I have no intention of keeping it a secret.

When I think sexy, the first thing that comes to mind is acting with abandon and being lost in the trance of feeling and response. My body might want that rapture, but it has to crawl through its own junkyard to get there.

I wanted to look as white and non-threatening as possible because the invisibility of my disability in conjunction with the vulnerability of being a Black woman was absolutely unbearable.

I wanted to look as white and non-threatening as possible because the invisibility of my disability in conjunction with the vulnerability of being a Black woman was absolutely unbearable.

When I think sexy, the first thing that comes to mind is acting with abandon and being lost in the trance of feeling and response. My body might want that rapture, but it has to crawl through its own junkyard to get there.

This assumption that I would want to hide my hearing aids always feels to me like a hint that I should be embarrassed by my disability — but I have no intention of keeping it a secret.

Oh, cats, how the internet loves you.

Don’t you all see how fun this is? I wanted to cry out. Instead, I whispered, “Yeah, b-b-books are weird,” and hid Junie B. Jones in my backpack. My classmates treated books the way I sometimes treated Girl Scout girls: with cold, eight-year-old contempt.