“Letters I never sent to you” by Cierra Olivia Thomas Williams.
The series revolves around the artist’s exploration of her experiences with violence and her attempts to communicate those experiences to an important person in her life. The series consists of one piece in transition, creating several artworks, each depicting different emotions and themes related to the artist’s trauma.
The first piece, titled “Gaslighted,” is a pencil and charcoal close-up self-portrait of the artist’s eyes and nose. It represents the moment when she reached out to the person she expected to love and support her, only to be met with disbelief and accusations of fabricating stories.
The second piece, called “Unsent,” features a self-portrait of the artist’s crying face against a black background. The word “LISTEN” floats in the artwork, while ripped-up letters that were never sent to the person are collaged into the piece. The text fragments express the artist’s desperate attempt to convey the truth about her experience with sexual violence and her struggles with its aftermath.
The third piece, titled “Suffer,” shows the transformation of the artist’s face from pain to rage, eventually turning into a black bear. The artwork incorporates Miwok words, representing descriptive terms for various aspects of the environment. The bear symbolizes the artist’s intense emotions and the anger she feels at not being believed.
In the final transformation, depicted in “Bear Eating People,” the artist’s sad self-portrait is consumed by red, yellow, and black shadow fingers. The Miwok term for “bear eating people” replaces the word “listen,” symbolizing the artist’s transition into a vengeful bear that represents her rage and frustration at the lack of belief and support she encountered.
Gaslighted
Media: Pencil and charcoal close-up self-portrait of my eyes and nose. I called the person who should love me the deepest and told them what happened. They said I was making up stories.
Unsent
Media: Charcoal, pencil, and collaged words, images, unsent letters, and a recycled 2021 calendar
A self-portrait of my face crying. The word LISTEN floats on a black background with my crying face being pulled into the darkness by red and black fingers. The text is made up of words from ripped up letters I never sent her. The pieces of letters say, “This is no lie. It was sexual violence. Crisis. I can’t decide how it makes me as an adult person. Manic again, scary, unthinkable. Not neurotypical skills. And this is what I remember.” There is a winding stairway from my temple and my chin. At the end of the spiral stairs at the bottom of the piece are boats facing away from the pain.
Suffer
Media: Charcoal and pencil, photography.
The transformation of my face from pain to rage, from human to black bear. Miwok words are filled with descriptive terms for things found in the environment that you might encounter and interact with. For example, you may come across a hairy bear, or a lazy bear. Yosemite is the word for murderous bear.
Bear Eating People
Media: Charcoal and pencil, photography. In its final transformation, suffer. My face is overcome with red, yellow, and black shadow fingers-pulling on me. The Miwok word for “bear eating people,” or “Hutcumi,” appears where the word listen once appeared. My sad self-portrait is transforming into a murderous bear to express the rage I feel at not being believed.
About the artist
Cierra Olivia Thomas-Williams is a fat and sassy thoyewa (disabled) Miwok cisgender assa (woman) with salt and pepper hair. She is smiling into the camera and is wearing a pink floral shirt in the picture. Cierra is a survivor of poly violence with CPTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder and is on the bipolar spectrum.
Cierra is a Prevention Specialist at Indiana Coalition Against Domestic Violence, where she co-founded Indiana Disability Justice.
CONTENT WARNING: This post discusses sexual and domestic violence.
Luna was born with Cerebral Palsy Spastic Diplegia. Luna uses a walker, crutches, and a power wheelchair to help with mobility.
She also deals with borderline personality disorder and CPTSD due to trauma throughout her life. She became pregnant with her son in 2017 after being raped while trying to leave a violent partner.
The unique challenges she faced while trying to escape her abuser really highlighted for her the disparities and lack of resources available not only for disabled individuals but disabled survivors of domestic violence.
Her experience has really inspired her to try and discover ways in which she can bring these disparities within the disabled community to the attention of others, start discussions, and hopefully inspire much needed changes. These changes are needed in order to better support, not only survivors of domestic violence, but people within the disabled community.
Keep reading below to hear more about her story and personal experience surviving domestic violence.
Throughout my journey of escaping domestic violence with a disability and going from a victim to a survivor, I have faced and had to overcome many unique challenges. As if being a survivor of domestic violence isn’t challenging enough already, the obstacles that I faced when escaping and getting back on my feet were compounded by the fact that I have a physical disability. In my experience when I was seeking help to not only escape, but to also recover from my abuse, the services available in my area could not fully accommodate me as a recovering victim of domestic violence. They were not able to accommodate me as a person with a disability.
People with disabilities face unique challenges on a daily basis not only because of their disabilities. An even larger contributing factor, in my opinion, as to why daily life can be so challenging, is because we have to navigate and live in a world that, at the end of the day, isn’t designed with disabled people in mind.
Depending on where you live in the United States, services for persons with disabilities and their daily lives and situations can often be bare minimum at best if they’re even available at all. And when it comes to domestic violence, this is an even bigger issue when you consider that resources for victims of domestic violence are already limited, even for those without disabilities. Shelters can fill up very quickly, and some of them require you to be able to live fully independent in order to stay there. In my area, from my experience, I would say most of them have this requirement. Assistance programs like HUD/Section 8, which are affordable housing resources for low-income individuals and families, have limited space, and they do not prioritize disabled victims of domestic violence at all. The housing program where I am from, prioritizes a) elderly on social security, b) low-income families with children, c) able-bodied and disabled, d) pregnant women, e) younger, low income, disabled individuals with no kids, and f) able-bodied, low-income individuals. Not only do these housing assistance programs fill up fast, but there is often a very long wait list. If you’re a disabled person, depending on the disability, there’s a good chance that you are on low and fixed income, which makes it necessary, yet difficult, to find affordable and manageable rent without being on some sort of housing assistance. If you’re a disabled survivor of domestic violence with low-income, like myself, these limited space programs with long wait lists, that don’t prioritize younger people with disabilities very well, let alone survivors of domestic violence, can be financially devastating and even life-threatening for the disabled victims of these situations.
I was with my abuser from 2015 to 2017. The majority of that relationship was extremely abusive. He started abusing me, psychologically, sexually, and physically, pretty early on in our relationship. I would say I started to notice that I was being abused maybe about 3 months in. He had come home from work one day, wanting to have sex. Now this isn’t my first abusive encounter or abusive relationship, as a result of trauma over the years I developed a condition that can sometimes make it difficult and even painful to experience sexual penetration. It’s kind of like an anxiety response from my understanding but I don’t have much control over it. Anyway, I had told my abuser that day when he expressed his desire to be intimate, that I didn’t feel I was able. Because of my condition, I already felt physically uncomfortable. He kept pushing and pushing even though I kept resisting both verbally and physically. He ended up overpowering me and raping me. When he saw how upset I was, he apologized, said that he didn’t mean to, and that he would never do it again. That was a lie though. I was often coerced and pressured into sexual encounters that I would express I didn’t want to be in. When I expressed a desire for him to stop, he would not. There would be periods of time in our relationship where I would be sexually abused on a daily basis, sometimes for weeks. I would experience a lot of psychological abuse, and gaslighting. He had me questioning my own reality often times. I would even experience physical abuse, be locked inside of our house, and pinned to the ground if I attempted to leave the house or put any physical separation between us during an argument. The times I did managed to leave the house he would stalk me or call me and make threats.
There was a lot of messed up things going on in our relationship for quite a while, and if I’m being honest, I would say that there were signs of his abusive and controlling behavior even before we got together. If I had the money or resources much earlier, I would have left a lot sooner, but I did not. I also had this crippling fear of being homeless again. Just a few years prior to meeting him, I had escaped a previous abusive relationship where I was brutally sexually assaulted. As a result of that first escape, I ended up being homeless for 2 years. After getting out of that situation, the thought of ever having to go back to homelessness was terrifying enough to convince me to stay with him for a total of 3 years, when it was all said and done.
I made my first attempt at a solid escape, once I was finally able to save up enough money, in February of 2017. That definitely wasn’t the end of the story. He was very upset and retaliated by raping me, which is how my oldest son was conceived. I tried to stay away from him as much as possible. But between needing help getting to doctor’s appointments, and as I got more and more pregnant, I became less and less able to safely care for myself, I needed help. The only resource that I was aware of, at this time, was applying for Section 8. I didn’t know where or how to access resources, to help me safely care for myself while pregnant. And those I reached out to didn’t know where to point me either. So ultimately about halfway through my pregnancy I had to invite my abuser back into my life, because at the time I really didn’t have anyone else that could do what I needed.
I made an attempt at another escape in 2018. I moved again, to a two-bedroom apartment with my 3-month-old son. I was on a fixed income of $750 living in a $480 apartment that did not include utilities, I was still waiting to hear about the housing voucher program. I was actually pretty far down on the list, until after I had my baby. Actually having the baby bumped me up. But not enough, the wait was still way too long. I tried and tried to keep my abuser at a distance as much as possible, but he definitely did not respect boundaries. I was desperately struggling to find resources that would accommodate my situation let alone even accept me. This forced me to depend on my abuser for things like rides to the grocery store, to doctor’s appointments, etc. He was using these opportunities to continue to exert his control and abuse me.
I had people that I was reaching out to for help, but the majority of them just couldn’t wrap their head around my situation. I was working with a family program at the time. The family specialist I had that would visit my home, knew of my situation, but she kept trying to convince me to cut my abuser off completely and then seek help. She couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to do things in that order. She kept trying to compare my experience with domestic violence to her own experience with domestic violence. Because she is able-bodied, she just could not factor in how much me being disabled played into the severity of the abuse that I was experiencing, and why it was so difficult to escape my abuser completely.
I finally found a way to make her start to understand that I could not leave my abuser until I got services to compensate for the ways in which I had to be dependent on him. She got me in contact with a local service that primarily assist disabled elderly people. This was my first encounter with ageism. I had to go through an interview in order to be approved for these services. The woman who interviewed me showed up at my home unannounced, and my abuser happened to be there that day because I had needed his help with something. During the interview she made several derogatory comments about my age, and already let me know that she wasn’t sure if I could even be assisted by them. This was due to my age, the fact that I had a child and that most of the people they serviced are disabled elderly. She was also letting my abuser have input on what my needs were, despite the fact that my abuser and I were never married, and I had made it as clear as I could, even with him in the room, that he and I were not in a relationship. I was seeking services so that I didn’t have to be dependent on him so I could fully leave the relationship. Yes, if you’re wondering, what this woman did is very illegal. After the interview I was immediately denied services through this company. She even contacted my family specialist, and made claims that I had people helping me, (abuser) claimed that I was uninterested and didn’t seem to have a need for services.
I don’t know about other areas around the country, but I know at the time where I was living while going through all of this, the type of services that I was seeking are pretty much exclusively only available to elderly disabled people. I remember getting so frustrated because it seemed as though people, at least in this community where I was from, didn’t want to acknowledge or couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that young people can be disabled as well. This community even had a couple low income and even assisted living apartments, but again these places we’re really exclusively available to the elderly on social security, which is different than the social security that I was receiving. Not only did I have to battle the obstacles of domestic violence, but I also had the obstacles of both ableism and ageism in my way when it came to seeking services to get away from my abuser. I remember during this time getting so discouraged that I almost gave up, and I believe I would have completely given up and given into my abuser if it wasn’t for CPS of all things getting involved.
I had a wonderful social worker, and she was the first person, in the four years that I was going through this ordeal, that immediately and fully recognized that I was being abused. Not only that, but she was probably the first person that actually took the time to listen to what I needed while taking that information to work with me instead of against me. She was able to get me involved with a family transportation program at Centerstone. She helped to find resources for me to get an in-home help aid. The transportation services that I finally had access to took some time to actually be useful. Once I got the right family support person, that was a big step in getting away from my abuser, because that’s one of the things that I depended on him for the most. Now I know that there are transportation services everywhere including services for the disabled. But a lot of these services, although they may be more easily and publicly accessible they have limitations, and unfortunately having a child with me created limitations that made these public services inaccessible.
Finally when my son was nine months old. I got a call from the OVO housing authority saying that they had a housing voucher available for me. I was told I had 60 days to use it. Now in order to use these vouchers, you have to save up the money for the deposit, and wherever you’re planning on moving has to meet certain standards and requirements by the program’s rules to use your voucher at a particular location. This was my next obstacle to overcome. I was living on very limited income and over 80% of my check was going to rent. And although the landlord I was renting from at the time was very eager to take the voucher, the place he had me living in was nowhere near up to the standards of the housing program, there were a lot of safety issues. He also refused to make any improvements to the apartment in order to be accepted as an approved location by the program. I had 60 days to use this voucher, and not only was finding a location difficult, it had to be within a certain budget that was not even disclosed to me. Also with my rent taking up as much of my income as it was, saving up the deposit was nearly impossible. Luck came my way, and I was able to use my voucher at a place that was safer and much more suited to my needs. Getting there was definitely stressful. I almost ran out of time and lost the voucher.
Now I had reached the point where my transportation issues were resolved for the most part, and now I finally had access to affordable rent. There was no reason to need to be financially dependent on my abuser in order to get bills paid and things like that.
I was finally in a position where I could actually leave and never look back. And that’s exactly what I did. I was able to get a temporary restraining order against my abuser too. He wouldn’t stay away from me before I moved so I had no choice. This is how I got involved with my local domestic violence program. They were the second group of people, as far as I’m concerned, to have saved my life. If it wasn’t for them I don’t know if I would have had the know-how or the courage to get a restraining order and finally stand up to my abuser. They also helped with going to court to get it extended and being able to testify and tell the judge everything that was done to me, well almost everything. It’s been a long, hard journey especially with obstacles, getting legal counsel, having to go to court and testify, and get things modified. I am now, today, married and living in a new town where I don’t have to worry about running into my abuser, and I have full legal and physical custody of my son. I’m so thankful for the people that actually listened and helped me get here.
If you read my story, hopefully it’s clear through my own personal experience where I think there are significant disparities when it comes to helping disabled victims of domestic violence. I didn’t share every piece of my journey, but hopefully I shared enough so that you can see where we can often fall through the cracks. That being said, I still want to take the time to be more specific.
First and foremost, there needs to be widespread education on how domestic violence affects the disabled community. I believe it needs to be understood that disabled domestic violence victims in a lot of ways can’t afford to be treated the same way as able-bodied domestic violence victims. In order to get proper help through these organizations our disabilities and limitations need to be acknowledged so that they can properly be accommodated. As a society we need to figure out a way to more quickly and efficiently help disabled victims remove themselves from these situations as soon as possible.
When it comes to disabled victims of domestic violence, we need to do more to help them than just hand them informational pamphlets and phone numbers. Even organizations like adult protection services, who are in place to help vulnerable adults, in my opinion, do not do near enough to help disabled people actually get out of violent situations. This is coming from my own personal experience and disheartening conversations that I’ve had with social workers from adult protection services during my struggle to get out.
We need more programs that prioritize people with disabilities regardless of age. And we need programs that prioritize the needs of domestic violence survivors with disabilities. When you have a disability statistically the situation is much more dire and much more likely to have a devastating outcome compared to able-bodied victims of domestic violence. As a society, we know pretty well how devastating it can already be, outcome wise, for female domestic violence victims who aren’t disabled. I would hope that it’s not hard to imagine how much the danger increases when you add a disability into the mix.
I think investments need to be made in shelters that are able to be more accommodating to the needs of disabled domestic violence survivors. There are some shelters that have staff that can help disabled survivors living there to some extent. But from my personal experience they’re not very common at all. When I was trying to find a shelter there was only one in the surrounding area that had the ability to accommodate my needs, but they were already full. All the other shelters that I had been in contact with could not accept me if I could not fully do things for myself this included getting to the grocery store, getting my own groceries, etc.
This next point ties back into the widespread education. I feel there needs to be some initiative put in place to help educate our court system of the impact that domestic violence has on disabled victims. It would be nice to have educated disability advocates working with the courts on a regular basis to help them understand things like statistics, obstacles that domestic violence victims with disabilities face that may negatively impact their ability to do things like access information, or press charges in a timely manner, or even testify against their abusers. Maybe there are places in this country where there are initiatives like this, but I know that such initiatives definitely are not nationwide.
When I was testifying in court, I would like to think that on some level my disability was taken into account, but honestly not the way it should have been. Especially not in the way that my protective order ended up being written. It was almost impossible to enforce. While under the protective order I had to file police reports, things like stalking and he brought friends of his to our original meeting spot for visitation exchanges, and they prevented me from being able to leave the store. I had to have my husband help me escape. It was very traumatic, and my police reports never went anywhere. However, I was still able to use them in court when I had to go back to address the situation. I was also told repeatedly by more than one lawyer that I should buy a gun to protect myself, because I can’t rely on the protective order to be able to do that. Which not only seems counterintuitive to me, but I can’t fire a gun, I can’t use a gun because of my disability and how it impacts me. Overall, I do believe that our court system needs to make a concerted effort to take crimes against the disabled community and the individuals within it much more seriously than they do. Especially when it comes to any kind of intimate violence. Crimes like filicide and caregiver violence, are unfortunately commonproblems that the disabled community faces, common enough that we actually have a national day of recognition for the victims of these crimes: March 1st.
I am only one person within the disabled community. I can only speak for myself and my own experiences in dealing with the obstacles of being a disabled domestic violence survivor. The experiences of the members of the disabled community are as diverse as our disabilities and limitations. Programs, services and accommodations need to be just as diverse as the people living within our community.
I believe accessibility plays a major role in not only recovery for disabled victims of domestic violence, but also prevention of domestic violence against the disabled. Victims of domestic violence, both able-bodied and disabled, are more likely to fall back into these cycles, especially if they do not have access to appropriate resources and services as well as comprehensive and applicable education on the subject. This becomes even more important when it comes to preventing domestic violence against people with disabilities and developmental disabilities.
Thank you so much for taking the time to not only hear my story, but to hear my thoughts on how I think we can better help disabled survivors of domestic violence.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Luna Eversong-Kloss
Luna is a tattoo, model, advocate, writer, and mother of two. She also has cerebral palsy.
Luna is standing with her crutches. She has tattoos and a lip piercing. She has long brown hair’with blonde streak. Her head is cocked, and she is smiling broadly. She is wearing a black shirt with skulls and flowers.
Disability Justice and Violence Prevention Spotlight: Nicole Kass Colvin
Indiana Disability Justice periodically highlights collaborators and partners across the country who are centering people with disabilities and disability justice in the work to end violence. We hope that you will read all about Nicole Cass Colvin who is practicing at the Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence. In this interview Nicole walks us through what disability justice means in her practice and where the field could use improvement and redirection.
Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence
The Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence serves as Ohio’s rape crisis coalition. State sexual assault coalitions serve as the main training and technical assistance provider for rape crisis centers on best practices in programming and administration, and they advocate on behalf of rape crisis centers and the survivors they serve in public policy advocacy efforts at the state and federal levels.
Where you practice primary prevention & disability Justice? I work with the Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence where our mission is “As Ohio’s statewide coalition, OAESV uses an anti-oppression lens to advocate for comprehensive responses and rape crisis services for survivors and to empower communities to prevent sexual violence.” As the Coordinator of Community Responses at OAESV, I primarily work with Sexual Assault Response Teams (SART) and Coordinated Community Response Teams (CCRT) across Ohio’s 88 counties, which may be seen as intervention, but I believe can be vital in primary prevention. SARTs and CCRTs are spaces where we can explore making our communities as safe and cared for as possible, and have people at the table to make change happen. Often this looks like focusing around the community level, but communities can get creative with it and really make impacts that span across levels.
What do you like to do for fun? Hobbies?
Read a lot of fantasy novels, listen to a lot of podcasts, get outdoors, explore the arts, and spend time with my chihuahua pug, Rizzo.
I am a white cis-female, nearly 30, with medium length wavy hair and big burgundy cat-eye style glasses. In this picture, I am smiling, have on red lipstick, a beige and gray sweater, and have my arm on my hip.
About Nicole
After studying psychology, I started in the anti-violence field in 2015 as a legal advocate in rural Alaska. Since then, I’ve gotten to work with some disability-serving agencies, and with building up a new sexual assault program in Indiana. Currently, I work as the Coordinator of Community Responses at the Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence. I live in Ohio, but in my town, one side of the street is Indiana and the other side of the street is Ohio, so I feel very passionate about addressing sexual violence and oppression in both Indiana and Ohio. Email: colvin@oaesv.org
What does disability justice mean to you as you practice primary prevention?
Primary prevention is about creating a world where sexual violence doesn’t exist or is unconscionable. We know that sexual violence can happen to anyone, and we know that sexual violence is a tool of power and control that thrives in the midst of inequity, lack of accessibility, and oppression. As a society and as an anti-violence movement, we don’t adequately care for people with disabilities. Due to the ways that our systems are structured, people with disabilities are disparately impacted by inadequate income, housing, education, food stability, or care, and even more so throughout the pandemic.
Primary prevention is also about centering, empowering, and uplifting people with disabilities. Speaking to my own mistakes in this field, how often do we put outreach to disability-serving organizations on the to-do list and never get to it? How often do we do prevention programming, with curriculum made for, by, and presented to neurotypical people without disabilities? How often do we as organizations have requirements for staff and volunteers that may exclude or drive out people with disabilities? With the help of my incredible colleagues at OAESV (shout-out to Olivia Montgomery, Sarah Ferrato, and Caitlin Burke!), I’ve learned that if we really want to practice primary prevention, we have to let go of the idea that we need to “reach specific communities” (which tends to mean our services are designed around a specific population – likely a population that we are most comfortable with), and rather be intentional in each and every thing that we do to ensure that we are really being proactive about ending violence to those most impacted by it. For me, this has been a reframing. Instead of “maybe consider having disability-serving agencies on your SART” or “here are some tips on a specific subject, and by the way, here’s how to make it accessible”, we might reframe it as “let’s explore how sexual violence most impacts your community, hear directly from survivors most impacted, and build our systems and resources off of that information.”
Notable quotable from my colleague Sarah who assisted me with primary prevention aspects of this post: “Primary prevention cannot happen if we don’t ensure that marginalized folks are included in the brainstorming, decision-making, and implementation processes of education and outreach. Shifting social norms includes shifting community attitudes about who deserves safety, dignity, and respect. If the answer isn’t a resounding ALL PEOPLE, we cannot begin to address the ‘how.’”
Primary prevention also means taking a hard look at our communities and our services and both talking about and engaging in actionable steps to make them more equitable, accessible, and accepting. This can be as big as changing systems, and as small as having conversations with folks in our communities about how different actions and words impact our neighbors with disabilities. It can even mean asking for someone’s Venmo, CashApp, or PayPal to give some extra cash to help them meet a need or compensate them for emotional/intellectual labor.
Does anything about primary prevention need to change to bring disability justice to the world?
Yes – I don’t think there are enough conversations about disability justice within primary prevention. Again, I think we often design things based on a specific population and then as an afterthought add in “others.” For primary prevention to be truly effective, especially around disability justice, we need to be thinking of intersectionality. This also means we need to be creating environments where people with disabilities are included in giving and receiving primary prevention, including exploring the barriers that our organizations have that may impact people with disabilities in employment, volunteering, or consulting. It also means being intentional about recruiting volunteers, employees, leadership, and consultants. Some examples include exploring education (or even heavy lifting!) requirements in job postings, providing employees with plenty of Paid Time Off and other benefits, and paying people for their emotional and intellectual labor.
Additionally, I know I often thought of primary prevention as doing school programming, teaching consent, building developmental assets, etc. These are all great things (find out more about needed changes to these aspects of primary prevention here). However, it’s not the full picture of primary prevention, which also means actively building equity and bridges over barriers, both in our communities and in our systems. We also need to be more open about ableism, eugenics, and social Darwinism in our current state. People with disabilities are not disposable and if we really want to live out our missions within the anti-violence field, we need to be active in centering our care.
Do you have a favorite prevention activity or strategy you use to achieve disability justice?
I participated in a training a few years back where a ground rule was “Step Up/Step Back” (please note that this language is unintentionally ableist and Make Space/Take Space is an alternative with more inclusive language), meaning if you are someone who is normally really quiet, to challenge yourself to speak up in the training, and if you’re normally more talkative to let others speak. I think of this often in terms of primary prevention, anti-oppression work, and disability justice. I like to incorporate intentionality and pause and think, “Do I have something to add here that people need to hear, or is it a time for me to pause and make space?” Often in terms of disability justice, this is a balance of speaking up in spaces where my voice may be received because of my power, privilege, or relationships, and de-centering myself where my presence may be more disempowering to people with disabilities. My advocacy work and collaboration with IDJ have shown me how important it is to center people with disabilities – “nothing about us without us.” In my advocacy, this often looks like hearing what survivors with disabilities are saying and when they feel safe to be centered, it can be a conversation of, “Hey, would you want to get involved with IDJ?”
What are some resources that you have created or that you just love that you want to share (articles, toolkits, etc.)?
There are so many resources that I love but a few favorite or recent resources relevant to disability justice include:
I don’t do private consulting at this time, but do provide training and technical assistance across Ohio. I highly recommend working with and paying consultants, especially people with disabilities; Black, Indigenous, and People of Color; and survivors.
Some of my favorite consultants/places to connect with consultants at this time include:
My body doesn’t work – they say – to please the male gaze.
My body doesn’t work to cope with the 8h-per-day working schedule.
My body doesn’t work to be drafted, to give birth or to please whoever demands to be pleased.
My body is a dividing line between my light and the world.
But my body works to dance, badly and clumsily, under the rain when nobody is watching.
It works to punch, to save itself.
It works to grow fruits, to get muddy, to taste the wind.
My body works as a lair for non-normative pleasures.
While my sex is a hibernating winter, my nerves are a hieroglyph of orgasms randomly spread throughout the skin.
My body doesn’t serve any purpose, it doesn’t serve anybody because it is not built for serfdom.
No body is.
My body is built to enjoy witchcraft, to hug the others, to give birth to fantasies, to swallow life until it’s over.
My body serves ME. I am its purpose. It works to heal me. To heal with and for my people.
A purpose for which society, the same one that has always named and built us disabled, has never been able at all.
Title: TW. Ableism. Poet Name: Cénix C. Callejo.
Long story short, this poem was written in 2017, at a homeless day shelter, to remind myself that I –a violence survivor- as well as any person in any difficult or similar situation, was worthy and deserved the job I was denied, the home I wasn’t able to afford and the safety I wasn’t guaranteed with. I hope others can find comfort in it and it can help them to navigate their own paths whenever it gets tricky, and I also hope it can be a tiny contribution towards a much needed social change.
Bio: Cénix is a biologist and an environmental activist. They are a MSc in Biology, a Wildlife Rehabilitator and Environmental Educator Specialized in Grassroots Community Conservation, at different farmers and indigenous-led conservation projects. They have studied and volunteered/worked within the Environmental Field at Spain, UK, Greece, Peru and Ecuador.
Besides Wildlife Protection, Cénix has also been and is actively involved within several activism fields, regarding Mental Health, Disability, Survivorship, Homelessness and Transfeminism, amongst others.
After several episodes of male violence and mobbing linked to a severe work accident at their last job placement in 2019, they are currently being hosted at Spain, recovering while working and expanding their studies, seeking to expand their working opportunities in order to be able to fully afford again their own room and life expenses.
Photo:
[PHOTO DESCRIPTION: A frontal picture of Cénix, a white person with black curly hair to the shoulders, from head to knees. They are at a forest. Their right hand is grabbing a branch tree, their left arm is hanging. They are wearing grey sports trousers, a colourful shirt with flowers and a pink sweater. They are smiling and wearing black and white glasses. They are also wearing a red fanny pack with a pin of a yellow daffodil. There is a big rock behind them and green trees at the back.]
Where to read more: You can find more about their poetry (in Spanish) or contact them at their Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/Oniroteca/
