Why we're proud
Hello,
As I mentioned in my last email, it’s a weird Disability Pride Month. Even the usual online celebrations have been largely absent, perhaps because it’s quite hard to find anything to feel positive about.
Still, I’ve said before that actually Pride is most important - and most profound - when the going gets tough. When it’s hard. When you have to hold that Pride as tightly as you can as society tries to rip it out of your hand.
Of course, joy is an essential component of Pride. But so is resistance. So is resilience. So is faith that one day things will feel better.
So, in case you’re struggling to see where Disability Pride is hiding, here’s a list of all the places I’ve found and continue to find it.
Let’s start with the big ones:
Disability history - there’s something very special about continuing to discover more and more about the people who came before us, and seeing the barriers they overcame to make real progress. It may seem odd to some to think of these people, to whom we’re not related, as our forebears, but they are. I’m proud to come from a long line of people who demanded better - and got it
Disability culture - to me this is so much more than the (brilliant) ‘proper’ art the community produces: the books and films and music and visual designs. It’s also the products and spaces we create for ourselves, of course, but I think it’s wider than that. It’s the memes we send each other on bad days. It’s the short-hand we use in conversations about everything from pain to wheelchair mechanics. Disability culture is a whole world we’ve made, for and by us, and that makes me very proud indeed
And then there’s all the little things that add up to the big thing: community
The way we take mutual aid from a fluffy concept to a real, tangible thing: the borrowed wheelchair, the voice note with advice for handling a discrimination case, the meal sent to a front door
The subtle ways we keep one eye on each other in a room full of nondisabled people, just in case
The disabled nod (if you know, you know)
The sheer number of us who’re trying to make things better
How we support each other’s businesses, causes, and schemes
How we refuse to let nondisabled people separate us by impairment and instead work for all disabled people, navigating competing needs as we go
The fact that, frankly, the more they try to keep us quiet, the more gobby we get
How we allow each other to be angry and sad and in pain
How we absorb setbacks and go again
How we insist on valuing each other in a world that tells us not to
How we celebrate different milestones - not just weddings and babies but new wheelchairs or finally asking for help
How we weave resilience into joy
How fiercely loyal we are to each other
How we dare to imagine radically different worlds
This isn’t the flashy sort of Pride that powers parade marches or corporate events. It’s not based on enforced positivity or pretending things are better than they are. It’s a Pride that reckons with how hard things can be, that is rooted in dedication to the difficult work of showing up for each other, that asserts that disability is not a source f shame but of strength, wonder and, fundamentally, love.
The important thing is that you don’t have to be doing well to claim this Pride. In fact, you don’t have to be doing anything. It is difficult to find, sure, but it is also free for the taking.
It’s mine. It’s yours. Never let it go.
In solidarity always,
Lucy