Her hands were warm and firm as they held onto mine the first time we were meeting. She knew to reach into my space to complete the connection. Knew from the hours of calls logged, from the technical and medical explanations, knew from my recountings and stories of changing plateaus, that she would have to meet M(m)e more than half way. And so, there she stood, exhausted from travel and maybe some self-conscious worry, holding both of my sun-browned SMA
Disabled Chronicles, No. 45: Before I started school, I remember being put through a battery of what I now know were tests. I’m not sure what they were tests for but I can only imagine they measured my cognition, my ability to learn and my psychological state. I remember the tests were somewhat interesting, considering I didn’t exactly know all my colors yet or how to count fully or how exactly the world was supposed to work. I was only
I just finished reading Hannah Hart’s book, Buffering: Tales Of A Life Fully Loaded (that’s an affiliate link btw) and I am sitting here triggered as fuck. It’s not that it wasn’t a great book – it is. It’s not that it was too graphic – it wasn’t. It’s just that I saw myself and some of my prior situations in so much of her words and in such a different light, that I get why folks get all glassy-eyed
He halted his three-wheeled bicycle at the end of the block and allowed me to go first. Thanking him, I tooled down the sidewalk, thinking of my upcoming pit stop and the journey after to get my case of water. I felt my sandal slipping off my freshly bathed and lotioned foot and stopped along a fenced yard, using the wrought iron to brace my sandal as I pushed my foot into the soft grey leather using the force of
2016 © Sandra Jean-Pierre Animals will be animals, regardless of the God they serve. Where love does not abide violence is eminent, where disregard for life lives, Death is gatekeeper. No God is needed to know this.