Sorry for the late post. My body really got the better of me these last two weeks. Sometime this past spring, my therapist and I were talking about (my) internalized ableism and how it is that I came to know disability and what it means to be disabled. “Who have been your examples of disability?,” she asked me, or some question like that. This led me to think about several family members (including my mother and my mother’s brother, my uncle, both of whom have the same autoimmune disease as me). Then a few months later, I came to think about Victor. Victor was my cousin. He had been born with sickle cell anemia. He eventually died of complications in early 2000. He was 32 years old at the time. I was 7, just a month away from my 8th birthday. I felt tremendous guilt when I eventually thought of Victor and realized that it had taken me so long to think of him, that I had forgotten to think of him, that I had forgotten him in relation to this important, emerging part of my life. Tha...
my text from today... (it is quite naif)
ReplyDeletethe incapacity of being
mother
wife
filmaker
a student
naif
Profound
anything...
with a head down
hands writing
cold
in my spin
i am afraid
of terror
Bolsonaro
stop. point.
a black pen writes in front of me
and Bolsonaro doesn't leave my mind
this is not a dream.
a deep breath
and yet there he is
A laugh
Is it his?
His photo at the newspaper
his teeth
laughing
is he eating something?
us? this country?
and me? here in US
US is not us.
Is Bolsonaro the entire country?
my country?
A sound of a feet in the floor.
A head down. A black pen. Eye closed.
a vibration of an iphone
the light is stronger than it felt before
Dis I got used to it?
To what? To Bolsonaro?
I wake up today. Kids crying. "I don't wanna go to school"
Matias got hurt.
And I kept going
but he is there, like the monster in Aurora's wardrobe.