Day 327: Why I Take Issue With Bathroom Bills, and It’s Probably Not the Reason You Think

 This post has been coming for weeks, ever since North Carolina passed the bill restricting transgendered people to the use of the public restroom which matches their birth sex instead of their current identifying gender. Laws like these have sprung up all over the southern United States*and they are totally and completely wrong. The bills are supposed to protect against pedophiles and rapists, that language suggests that anyone believes a transgendered person to be inherently criminal. Yes, a transgendered person could also be a criminal but to assume they are criminal because they are transgendered is no different from assuming criminal behavior based solely on skin color. What it really is is plain fear mongering and bigotry.


I have never been able to use the bathroom by myself because of the limitations of my disability. My dad stopped having one-on-one father daughter lunches with me when I was 10 years old because someone accused him of being a pedophile for no other reason than helping me to the bathroom. 20 years later my boyfriend has to do the same thing and though no one has called him a pedophile yet he still gets odd looks if the place we are shopping/eating at does not have a family bathroom because no matter which we one of us is seen as being out of place. What is he supposed to do, let me have an accident? Are we not supposed to go out as a couple? The hell with that.


The people who support bathroom lawns are exactly the kind of people who assume the worst when the guys in my life are just trying to help me get necessary things accomplished. I would rather receive help from a person I know no matter what gender or sex they identify with them on that I don’t any day of the week. In the 1960s it was water fountains, lunch counters, and public transportation but it wasn’t really about any of those things. It’s about fear, it was then and it is now. Transgendered people are no more monsters under the bed than are people of color or immigrants.

To the people who believe that laws like this actually protect people I say consider for a moment that the word “different” does not always equate to “evil”. Be brave . I know it’s hard but I believe you can do it.

  • As far as I am aware laws like these only exist in the southern states.

Day 326:Outlander, A Die Hard Fans Defense of Characters Besides Claire and Jamie

I found the Outlander books in my late teens or early twenties amd fell in love. Seriously, I have at least three different sets of the books and that doesn’t count my Kindle copies. The only other book series I’ve ever done that with  is Harry Potter.I love Claire and Jamie. I love everyone else in their world too. Colum and Dougal, Frank and  “Black Jack ” Randall and everyone else. Yesterday I saw this post .


The writer reffrank randallers to Frank Randall as a twit and I found that this bothers me immensely. Frank is not Jamie but he does love Claire very much, if you need proof look no further than the fact that he raised a child that he knew was not his own. He and Claire’s relationship may be strained but he throws himself into loving the little girl with his whole self. His love for Claire is definitely not the forest fire blaze that Jamie sometimes  is but that is because Frank and Jamie are two very different people. You don’t need a bonfire  to heat a house a fire contained within a fireplace is still fire.


In fact it is these two vastly dissimilar relationships that put the Outlander series into a weight class entirely its own. I’ve never seen another series in which the female protagonist has two relationships, both of which last decades, in two different centuries.  I feel terrible for Frank because he has the misfortune of having a face that is an almost exact copy of “Black Jack” Randall, a truly horrifying person who finds immense pleasure in torture and rape of any person who he wishes to exert power over. Frank’s only fault as far as I can see and bearing in mind that in spite of having the entire series several times over I am still less than halfway through, is being a direct descendent of Black Jack which really isn’t his fault, nobody gets to choose their blood relatives after all.


I admit that I started reading for Jamie and Claire and Frank and romance and sex. Then  met Himself and was totally and thoroughly invested in the series and it wasn’t even halfway through the first book. Colum ban Campbell MacKenzie is chief of the MacKenzie clan and also has Toulouse-Lautrec syndrome a degenerative disease that is similar to osteogenesis imperfecta which also causes sterility, a fact important to the plot of the first book. Anybody who knows me for a considerable length of time can tell you that one of my biggest soap boxes is the invisibility of the disabled body in media. If a disabled person is shown in is often in the role of saint, martyr, or else curiosity.Colum Mackenzie is definitely not any of these. Warped limbs or not no one would ever mistake him for a shrinking violet  and crossing him isn’t wise.

He refuses to appear ashamed of his disability even though he holds the very common belief that his disability  is punishment from the Devil. When a tailor takes it upon himself to make him a coat that would hide his twisted legs Colum holds the man at knife point  and demands a standard mens frock coat which falls just above the knee be ready the next day , I  cheered aloud.

Outlander 2014

I love to hate Black Jack. He is so complicated and nuanced. He is evil, absolutely no argument there,but there are no physical tells no warts, disfigurements etc. in fact he is very handsome, his speech polished, his manners charming as the situation requires. The only physical difference between him and Claire’s Frank is that his hair is long enough to tie back where Frank’s is short. If Claire had not met Black Jack whilr in Jamie’s era I don’t believe  her and Frank’s relatiomship would have suffered as deeply when she came back. Think about it by the time she returns she and Jamie has both been assulted mutiple times by a sadist who wears the exact face of the man she has just returned to, that would be enough to give anyone nightmares. ‘

Outlander is Claire and Jamie’s story all day long but dismissing supporting characters is a huge mistake.It narrows the focus of a complex story that is about so much more than just the two leads and reduces  it to the level of a drugstore paperback romance.

outlander cast

Author’s Note: None of thee images are mine.



Day 325: People with Cognitive Impairments Make Me Uncomfortable, Or Disabled People Can Br Jerks About Disability Too

pillar8-thought-and-art-vitruvian-man-leonardo-da-vinciNondisabled people often think that if there are two or more disabled people within a 50 mile radius of each other we all know each other by default and must be best friends. I understand the basis for the assumption, people who live in the same area might receive some form of therapy or other community services to help with their disability at the same place. This is a logical assumption but it is unfair and limiting to assume that just because disabled people are thrown together by circumstance to assume that everyone knows everyone else is more than just a passing acquaintance. More often than not strangers will assume that my boyfriend is actually my brother unless they have just seen us kiss each other. People have expressed surprise that I’m not dating someone “like me,” by which they mean someone who is also disabled. I have dated both disabled nondisabled people and I find the assumption that I would or should”stick to my own kind” insulting on several levels.


That being said the fact that I am part of the disabled community does not absolve me from my own narrow minded behavior. While the medical community will never call me physically healthy because of my disability and I admit to struggling with depression daily one of the boons granted to me was an extremely sharp mind. I have a 119 IQ. 120 is considered the start of the genius bracket. I have a ridiculously good memory for people’s names especially if I meet their pet at the same time. I have been told that I am good at mimicking accents and I know that picking up languages and writing are not difficult for me at all. In short I am a very good communicator and often times find myself uncomfortable in my dealings with those whose chronological age does not quite match up with the level at which their brain processes information. I found it especially difficult to navigate at summer camp where many of the people had cognitive differences on top of their physical ones. I know now that it painted me as cold, uncaring, and stuck up to some of the other campers. To those whose feelings I did not realize I was hurting I am truly sorry, it was never, ever intentional. It has not been until just this year that I started to feel less awkward about bridging the gap between myself and cognitively disabled people. Sometimes it’s easier than others but I do it anyway because just because someone processes things differently than I do doesn’t make them any less worthy of my empathy, appreciation, or understanding.

Day 324: In Which a White Girl Asks Ain’t I a Woman?

In 1851 Sojourner  Truth, a former slave spoke to group of feminists in Akron, Ohio and asked , ain’t I a woman? It is 2016 and I ask myself that every day. I struggle to find space within the feminist movement because  the truths that I live as a disabled   wonan are very rarely if ever recognized as wrong at all  in mainstream feminism.  For instance I am thirty and I have dealt with street harassment a grand total of once in my life. A male acquaintance who was also in a wheelchair groped my chest when I was in college. I  did report it reluctantly and the guy never bothered me again. Never once has an able-bodied man so much as cat called me. Instead I am ignored so totally that on the rare occasions my service dog  hasn’t been with to make those around me pay attention I have had people trip over my 300 pound wheelchair and nearly end up in my lap because they “didn’t see me.” Really? How do you miss  seeing something that like it wants to be a Transformer when it grows up ? It’s PURPLE for effs sake! When I am noticed I get asked how having sex with me “works” or  can I get pregnant? I have been asked these thing in public, by strangers as if I’m some sort of carnival exhibit  or scientific test subject. Maybe I  should start charging for every answer, even test subjects and circus performers get paid.

I’m not saying that the street harassment most women face is anything less than demeaning, awful and wrong it is and it should stop. All I am asking is that if a disabled woman tells you  she’s never had that happen instead of saying just saying :”you’re so lucky,” ask about her struggles, ask how they are different from yours, make space for us at the table,lets be each others advocates regardless of race, birth sex, income or ability. If you ever wondered “ain’t I  a womam?” I say yes you and your story is every bit as important as mine.

This is Kerry Washington performing Ain’t I  a Woman . She ROCKS IT.

Day 323: Let’s See if Blogging Can Fix A Busted Water Pipe

My mother has been hauling 40 gallons of water per day for 7 sheep, 2 horses and 12 chickens from the creek across the street for a ywar and half because  my parents can’t afford to fix a busted pipe on the property. Drinking water for people is purchased or gotten from my grandma’s  house. My parents ate the type to give a homeless person food and crash space . They were parents yo most of my friends parents were often  less than present. Both my folks are vets and are used to makibg due. A few  yeaars ago my mom had surgery fo remove  breast cancer and my dad had a heart attack that same week. It’s been an uphill climb for them since. Today mom started a gofundme page to raise money for repairs. As of right now we have raised $1,030 and the goal is $2,000. Most people who will see this don’t know my family and times are rough for lots of people but even five bucks would help. I can offer proofreading or creative writing services to anybody who donates and leaves a comment letting me know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Day 322: Words Have Power, Using Voices Conscientiously

The last few weeks of 2015 were not quite what I expected. I  have never been one to believe in a vast overarching destiny. I believe in the small, quiet nudges that you can almost miss if you’re not listening that whisper, “go here,” “do this,” “don’t do that,” “this is important.” I got several of those in the past few weeks. Mom had been watching clips of an Australian comedian named Adam Hills and something told me to look up his longer pieces. Turns out the guy has an artificial foot because he was born without one. That definitely piqued my curiosity and so I sat and watched everything of his I can find. He doesn’t tell jokes so much as humorous stories and he was telling how he  metthe Dalai Lama and made him laugh by refusing to tell him a joke. The Dalai Lama then took the microphone and said that people who have microphones should use them to say things. I was totally stunned. So many people who have been blessed with the opportunity to have a microphone whether it be a literal one or not say absolutely nothing, reality TV is all the proof I need of that one. A blog is also a microphone, amplifying our voices to be heard almost anywhere. Makes those words count, talk about the hard uncomfortable stuff that you’d rather shove in a drawer or walk past and pretend you didn’t see.


The second thing that happened to me at the end of last year is that I started talking to a friend who I had believed I would never hear from again. By all rights I should have slammed the metaphorical door in his face but there was that whisper again,don’t do that, this is important. So we’re talking again this was one important caveat that should help us avoid situations like the one that caused us to quit talking to each other. We always speak truth, even if it is hard, painful, or unpleasant for the other  person to hear . Speak Up. Speak Out. Speak Truth. Those three things are the only way we can ever hope to change anything for the better.

Day 321: Definitions, Personal history, and a resolution for the New Year

adjective: reluctant unwilling and hesitant; disinclined.
Reluctant is a word that describes me well. I think the only time I have ever really jumped the gun may have been my premature birth and look what that got me. As a kid I don’t think I was ever first in my neighborhood to do anything except maybe read. I talked late. I couldn’t sit up unsupported until at least eight years without a whole lot oo conscious effort. After third grade when we moved back to Tennessee from North Carolina I became reluctant to go to school because I felt out of place there in a way I never had at Fort Bragg. I had a wonderful teacher who made moving bearable and it wasn’t until fifth-grade that things got awful but that’s another post.I’m a reluctant public speaker although that one you probably wouldn’t guess if you saw me at it. As a kid and teenager I have t stood in front of many a United Way funding committee and persuaded them to  continue funding my theraputic riding program another year until the next year when  I did it all over again. I have never written a speech or even used notes unless it was for a graded assignment that required them. I am very good at public speaking and even better at writing.
In spite of all that I still term myself a reluctant speaker and writer. My reluctance does not stem from a lack of talent. I think it comes from feeling like I am boxed in by circumstances I had no choice over. Many things I had a drive to be growing up were just impossible. For instance I once told a firefighter giving a demonstration to my second grade class that I wanted to grow up and save people. I think he cried while leaving. With the mercurial nature of elementary school career choices at some point I decided that I wanted to be a soldier. Mom did cry when she told me that that wasn’t a possibility.
When I began to show skill at crafting picture book stories for class projects (my first one was a murder mystery at the circus in which the murder weapon was a poison dart from a blow gun, we were supposed to draw the pictures ourselves but I told my teacher that if I drew the pictures they would end up looking like awful stick figures and I wasn’t writing a story just to have it ruined with stick figures, she agreed that my mom could draw for me as long as I came up with the story. As a result I had the best illustrated book in the class) mom said I should write. When I started doing the public speaking everybody who heard encouraged me just as much. Sometimes things are too easy though.Writing and public speaking fall into that category for me.
I am not sure I would call either writing or public speaking a passion, I don’t think I found mine yet. I write regularly now to keep myself in the habit and to make the inside of my head a more ordered place to live. I have a manuscript that I’m writing that I enjoy but I don’t eat, sleep, and breathe it which totally flabbergasts people I know.
They can’t see why I am so dismissive of my writing. My talent will always be there it’s not going anywhere it’s a part of me and short of something like Alzheimer’s it will be there for a good long time. I am not so much dismissive of my writing as annoyed by the fact that other people view my writing well as though it should make up for all the things I can’t do. The same goes with public speaking even though I have had less opportunity to do that in recent years. I can’t drive.You write so well.  I an embarrassed when I  have to sign for anything because I wasn’t able to master cursive and my printing is worse than a preschoolers most of the time. It doesn’t matter what your handwriting looks like your words are well-crafted.I wish I could play the piano.I wish I had half your talent writing stories.
I appreciate all the encouragement but just  because I write or speak well does not mean I can easily put aside all the things I’d like to be able to do in addition to writing well and speaking eloquently that I can’t do  at all because of my disability. The truth is that I’m not always 100% comfortable with the fact that I’m disabled. I want to scream and yell at the unfairness of my life more times than I wish to admit to most people. Over this past year I have been consciously trying to make peace with myself, to love myself more. That is my New Year’s resolution, to continue on this path of self love, to  not focuson the standard version of perfect and try to find my own which incorporates all my flaws and idiosyncrasies I’ll let you know how it goes