This week in my #DisHist class we talked about the ugly laws and Susan Schweik's excellent book. For those who don't know ugly laws were passed in major cities across the 1800s and 1900s. These laws essentially prevented disabled people from existing freely in public. 1/5
In reality they targeted all minority groups: immigrants, Black and Indigenous people, homeless people, and disabled people. They basically ushered in slum clearing projects and they went hand in hand with institutionalization (in jails, workhouses, almshouses, etc). 2/5
Every single class students comment that time has passed but so little has changed. Disabled people still can't safely exist in public. We still can't rely on public spaces to be safe or accessible for us. 3/5
Nowadays it's not a set of laws that bar our existence, but a lack thereof (or a lack of enforcement). Our access to public transportation, public spaces of education, etc. are continuously compromised nowadays by bad pandemic policy. 4/5
And I just wonder - when will we be able to free exist? Without our lives on the line every time we leave our homes? 5/5 #DisabilityTwitter#AcademicChatter
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In grad school I was taught to critique. And so I was really surprised when I began writing those same critiques into my dissertation. Because what I didn't understand was: you will be prompted to verbally tear writing apart, but not necessarily ever commit that to the pg. 1/4
And that is something I don't get. I think deeply before I make comments. When I offer critiques, there's no difference between what I'm willing to verbalize vs what I'm willing to write. But that's not how most academics see it. 2/4
If you're not willing to write the critique on the page then why verbalize it at all? I don't like that were taught to critique, but never taught to take responsibility for those statements. Wildly performative, and utterly useless. 3/4
Every week I tell myself "I just have to get through" XYZ when it comes to COVID. And each week this spring my safety becomes more and more precarious. First we had mask mandates drop in schools. I ordered bulk masks and brought a HEPA filter into my classroom. 1/9
Then we lost funding for tests and treatments. Now I find that tests are financially inaccessible, but I still have to test in the days leading up to my immunosuppressant injections I do every month. I have to test twice, bc viral load is so much more complex every evolution. 2/9
Now we have a drop in public transport masking. I'm on a commuter campus. Masking in tight spaces has undoubtedly protected some of my students on their travel to campus. Now I face inevitably higher community transmission. 3/9
I think a lot of people presume that I'm not as sick as I am because I don't fall behind in my work. That's not true. I am just excessively good at overworking and I'm obsessed with working ahead. 1/6
I always have next week's lectures done, I am always on top of grading, I am always saying "well what if I have a week where I'm just out, will this course fall apart?" And no it's not healthy to work like this. 2/6
It means I work every single day, over 40 hours a week, just because I'm always so worried about actually being disabled. Because lots of people embrace my DEI work. 3/6
Non-disabled people in my life don't know how to love me like disabled people do. I'm so thankful for all my disabled friends who know how to provide care, rest, support and love. Disabled love is critically different from my other interactions with the world. 1/4
I really wish non-disabled people could learn to love in the same caring modalities. Love looks like remembering my food intolerances. Love looks like saying "that sucks" when I complain. Love looks like calling to check in and telling me stories. 2/4
Love looks like someone bustling around at home doing everyday things that wanted to call just to be with me across time and space. Love looks like not trying to fix everything and just allowing bad days to be bad. Love looks accepting my need to isolate as much as possible. 3/4
Really bothered by thoughts that this pandemic will be remembered properly in history. That the atrocities will be written about. That the truth will come to light about the lives that were meaninglessly sacrificed. As if that will be meaningful. 1/6
I am a historian of disability. I am one of a handful. There are many people writing medical histories, political histories, economic histories about previous pandemics and injustices like institutionalization. But these are usually not disability histories. 2/6
Disabled people rarely get justice in historical narratives. Their sacrifices are remembered in big statistics and sad conclusions. There are maybe a few case studies we can piece together. But we don't get to reclaim and reconstitute everyone's stories. 3/6
Can we stop using the term "wave" when it comes to COVID? The "wave" never ended we just stopped reporting numbers and the news got bored and people stopped wanting to read about what's actually happening. 1/4
So to appease the masses we just said "it's ok let's just wipe our hands of this and do whatever we want while we still can." That's not how infections work. You don't get to drop all protection measures and say "let's try to party before the next wave comes." 2/4
The next wave comes BECAUSE YOU DROPPED PROTECTIONS. I do not understand the cognitive dissonance that seems to be so rampant. If you keep spreading this virus it mutates and eventually infects people, kills people, disabled people. 3/4