#disabled woman

[jackcast2021]

Legless lovely

#leg amputee #dak amputee woman #dak amputee girl #dak amputee #disabled women #disabled woman #uses a wheelchair #handicapped girl #handicapped woman

[latinawheels]

I can't brag enough on how this little tube has changed my life for the better. While small (little bigger than a tube of lipstick) is actually a catheter. As someone with a spinal cord injury, it is how I empty my bladder. I switched to Coloplast Speedicath compact about 2 years ago and the amount of UTI decreased dramatically.

#disabled #paraplegic #wheelchair #catheter #intermittent catheterization #spinal cord injury #disabled and proud #disabled woman #life changing #disabled life

[rebelwheelsnycshow]

VIDEO: okay, let's talk about disability, pleasure, and empowerment... [image description: Video thumbnail. Colorful background with a mustard yellow. On top of that are a variety of colorful collages based on the wheelchair symbol. On top of that and in the center of the graphic is a horizontal black rectangle. Towards the left of the rectangle is a photo of myself. I am wearing a red t-shirt, a pink sequins bow in front of a medium sized red rose flower crown on my head. I am wearing circular fancy looking rhinestone sunglasses and I am somewhat grinning somewhat blushing. To the right of the photo is the following text disability and.. and below that it reads pleasure and empowerment]

#disabled #disability #disabled af #disabled youtuber #disabled and queer #disabled woman #low spoons #ableism #sexuality #disabled joy #Youtube

[starfishlikestoread]

Our Blind Contributor - Alice King

I recently got a hold of a copy of the June 11th, 1887 edition of "The Girl's Own Paper", a British paper for women and girls published from 1880 to 1956.

There are a number of interesting articles in this issue, but the one that stood out to me the most was the autobiographical account of Alice King's life, a completely blind author, equestrian, and teacher from England.

(Click for better resolution. Image ID provided using Tumblr's image description system. Image sourced from https://www.victorianvoices.net/topics/people/disabled.shtml).

I am not exaggerating when I say this woman was awesome. As a disabled woman myself, this is the sort of person I wish we had learned about in school. Among other things, she could speak eight languages, published her first book at twenty, was an excellent horseback rider, learned knitting and macramé lace, ran a Bible Class with nearly 70 members, and modified her own typewriter and watch to suit her disability.

In this, as in everything throughout my life, the grand secret of my success has been unwearying, patient perseverance. I can confidently tell all those who are suffering under any physical disability, that if they will take this weapon—patient perseverance—in band, and use it resolutely to carve their road, they will succeed.

The full article is under the cut - it's long, but I highly recommend it.

The article, transcribed by me, so apologies if there are any errors:

"THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER [PRICE ONE PENNY. VOL. VILL-No. 389.] JUNE 11, 1887. OUR BLIND CONTRIBUTOR-ALICE KING. WRITTEN BY HERSELF.

THE few words that I am going to say in this paper about myself are intended to be partly a comfort to those who have dear relations and friends that have lost their sight, and who are sorrowing over what they deem an irremediable affliction for those they love, and partly as an encouragement for those who are themselves blind, or who are burdened with any other infirmity which seems to make hopeless their chance of getting forward in the race of life. If I can succeed in either of these points I shall indeed be happy and thankful.

I was not born blind, but my sight was always so very imperfect that it scarcely de served the name of sight at all. I could distinguish no object clearly, not even when of places placed close to my eyes, so that all my descriptions of places and scenery in my writings can in no way have originated from any dim, scattered memories of those early days. When I was about seven my little glimmer of sight became darkened entirely, and since then I have been completely blind. 

But though I am blind, it often gives me a sort of surprised feeling to hear myself talked of as such; I have such a keen, intense consciousness of knowing all about, and seeing, everyone and everything around me. When strangers speak to me for the first time, I at once create, from their voice, a distinct picture of what they are like. When I am driving or walking through a beautiful country, the sound of waving trees and murmuring water instantly brings me a vision of wondrous picturesqueness. When I enter a room I have never been in before, I quickly know all about its size and the way in which the furniture in it is placed by listening to such sounds as the closing of a door or window or the moving of a chair or sofa. Another thing which makes me never able to realise that I am blind is that I have always a brilliant light before my eyes, so that seem to myself continually wrapped round with a radiant cloud. Into this light I can call up at will any colour that I think of intently for a few moments, so that frequently I am gazing into a gorgeous red or green incandescent mass, that appears to be scintillating close to me and glowing like a living fire.

God in His love and mercy has also given me other abnormal faculties, which take the place of, and in some cases almost more than take the place of, sight. I can frequently tell when someone is in a distant part of the house by certain peculiarities, which my ear recognises, in their way of closing a door or performing some other insignificant but audible act. I have my especial manner of distinguishing my friends before they speak, when they enter the room, by the sound of their breathing or the fashion in which they move about. I can always tell when anyone is looking at me with peculiar feelings of interest, or affection, or dislike; I have a kind of indescribable burning sensation that pervades my whole frame. I can sometimes tell, when I am holding a person's hand, what is passing in their mind. This latter faculty has, under God, occasionally been of inestimable help to me in dealing with the working men and lads, of my work among whom I shall speak by-and-by. It increases in no small degree my influence over a man when he finds that I know of a wavering resolve for good or a secret thought of sin that is lurking in his heart.

I have also at times certain intuitions which make me able to foresee coming events. This power is, however, most capricious in its coming and going, and I have not myself the slightest control over it; I can never by my own will bring it to bear on any point that I wish; but it will often give me a prescient flash of light about some circumstance which is of comparatively little to me. I can give no account of its origin, and cannot define its exact way of working in my mind.

As a child I received no education especially suited and intended for the blind. I was entirely educated by my mother, a woman of great intellectual ability. She taught me much as other children are taught, except that she did her utmost to strengthen my memory by making me learn a great deal of poetry by heart. She gave me a correct knowledge of geography, which has remained with me all my life, without the help of any raised maps, such as are now used in blind schools, simply by making me describe in words the shape of each country, or island, or lake, and the position of each province with respect to another. I learned geography so thoroughly in this that in my schoolroom days I could have told any other girl how to draw a map of any country with the utmost accuracy.

I have learned seven languages through my ears—French, German, Italian, Spanish, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. I can hardly tell how I acquired them. I first learned the grammar by heart with my mother and sister, who were always, one or the other of them, my fellow-students, and then the faculty of understanding the different languages came with more or less facility. My practised, delicate sense of hearing has, no doubt, rendered me peculiarly quick in catching the pronunciation of foreign tongues, and this may have made the acquirement of them easier to me than it otherwise would have been.

As a child I was peculiarly bold and fearless; indeed, my blindness seemed to make me braver than others of my age. I grew to know any new house I was to with remarkable quickness, because I needed no light. I learned to ride on horseback, and was a bold horsewoman, sitting in my saddle with as much ease and confidence as if I was in an armchair. The roads over the hills of West Somerset, in the neighbourhood of Exmoor, where I was born, are such as would make most riders, however practised, feel very much more inclined to trust to their own legs than to those of their horse; yet up and down these steep ways, which are often nothing better than cataracts of rolling stones, I used to ride, feeling quite as happy as a young lady sauntering about on velvet turf in a sunny garden. I had a real affection for the animals on which I rode. Beautiful creatures they were, half-bred between horse and Exmoor pony, and endowed with wondrous intelligence. They fully returned my regard, and understood quite well that they had to take more care of me than of any other rider.

I can do work of many kinds with great case and much pleasure. My power of feeling lies chiefly in the forefinger and the thumb, the skin and muscles of which have been trained to great delicacy of touch. I can knit the finest silk, can do canvas-work, and have lately been acquiring skill in macramé lace. I have not learned these different sorts of work in a moment, but have gained my proficiency in them with incessant practice and resolute determination not to fail. In this, as in everything throughout my life, the grand secret of my success has been unwearying, patient perseverance. I can confidently tell all those who are suffering under any physical disability, that if they will take this weapon—patient perseverance—in band, and use it resolutely to carve their road, they will succeed.

My capacity for writing began to develop at a very early age, and broke out into little ripples of verse almost as soon as I could speak. It seemed to come naturally to me, like a song to a young thrush. My first appearance in print was in a volume of sacred poems entitled "The Lays of Palestine," which was brought out by my father, and in which were put two hymns written by me before I was twelve years old.

My first book, "Forest-Keep," was written when I was about twenty. I have been often asked how it is that, without ever having seen a tree or a green field, or looked into the face of man or woman or child, I can describe vividly scenery, or beauty of feature, or expression in a human countenance. I can only reply that every description I write tells exactly what I see with visionary eyes. The moment I try with real, earnest intensity of imagination and thought to get a distinct idea of anything I want to paint in words, I see the scene or the face clearly before me, and then I write down what I have seen. This process requires no great mental effort; it came naturally to me, quite uncalled for, the moment I began to write.

I have learned how write English fluently, partly through my parents, from my earliest days, reading out loud to me all the masterpieces of English literature. I have continued this practice of listening to well-written books all my life, and my ears have helped me in catching a good style of composition. When I was a child, my father, who at that period was translating into English verse the "Æneid" of Virgil, used to tell me the meaning of a Latin line or two in simple English words, and then bid me turn it into poetry. This mental exercise no doubt helped me in after years to find command of language easy.

In the first years of my literary career I always wrote with an amanuensis. She was generally a a girl from the village school, with a mind not too well instructed as to grammar and orthography. I used to have to write out every sentence first thoroughly in my head, getting up thus, perhaps, half a chapter by heart, and considering well how each paragraph sounded, and how any specially long words were spelt; then I act to work with my amanuensis to get it all on to paper; and laborious the task often was for both her and myself. Here again, however, patience and perseverance stood me in good steal.

At length came the, for me, happy days when that wonderful and beautiful machine, the type-writer, was brought to England from America. I resolved, the moment I heard of it, that I would learn it and make it useful in my literary work. I had two changes made in the machine to suit my blindness; one was having the letters, etc., carved upon the keys, the other was having every tenth degree marked at the top in a way that I could feel. Before, however, I could make carved letters useful to me, I had to learn what letters were like; this I did by feeling constantly round and round the letters upon the edge of a little tin plate. Yet with all the various helps which I devised to make the type-writer acquirable by me, it seemed to me, at first, that it would be simply a matter of impossibility that I could ever learn to write with it. I well recollect the heart-sinking with which I used to sit down at the machine: even when I had been labouring at it for four hours, till every muscle in my arms and shoulders ached, I got up feeling that I had made no way at all. Now I can write with the type-writer quicker than most people with the pen, and it is one of the blessings and comforts of my life. There is now no need for elaborate preparation beforehand when I write, for my thoughts flash in a moment from my brain on to the key-board.

The other great work of my life, which God has put it into my hands to do, besides my literary work, is that of teaching and influencing working men and boys. The parish of Cutcombe, where I was born, and where my father is clergyman, is a large, straggling, hill-country village, very much out of the world, and very old-fashioned, at the time of which I am writing, in all its ideas. The men and lads of the place had had few softening, up-lifting influences at work among them, and the evil spirit of drink was walking abroad in great power and strength through the midst of them, as it done throughout West Somerset. When I first opened my Bible class, almost all the men fought very shy of it and of me; they had never heard of such a thing as a lady busying herself about, and interesting herself in, working men and their belongings, and my first class had some four or five members, who seemed a little ashamed of what they were doing, even when they came in to take the word of God in their hands and hear about it. The prejudice against the Bible class, how ever, passed gradually away as Sunday after Sunday I persevered in it, and my numbers soon were doubled, while the Bible class began to be acknowledged as a power for good in the parish.

Now my Bible class counts some seventy members of all ages, from grandfathers of threescore years and ten, to bright lads just entering their teens; and everyone of these is, under God, more or less subject to my influence. The men will do more at my voice than at any voice in the world, and my blindness only seems one power the more to make them regard my womanhood with chivalrous reverence; it wakens up all the tender chords deep down under their rough exteriors. They will confess everything to me, and let me lead them almost anywhere. I keep up my influence over them by often having short private interviews with each man alone, besides meeting them at the Bible class.

The Bible class is not the only thing established for my working men and lads. I have started for them a reading-room, in which they have all kinds of papers, books, and games; a temperance refreshment room, and a brass band. I have also grounded in the village flourishing branches of the Church Temperance and Church Purity Societies. But yet more than for anything else that God has let me do among my men do I rejoice with thanksgiving over the Sabbath mornings, when the members of the Bible class come thronging up to the Table of the Lord.

My vast amount of work of different kinds makes it very necessary for me to economise my time, therefore nothing was more wanted by me than a watch, and I set about thinking how I could have one made that I could feel. Opposite each figure on the dial-plate I had a little knob placed; the hour-hand also had a tiny excrescence put upon it; the minute hand was made very thick, and screwed so high that it would pass over the knobs without catching, and thus I had a watch by which I could tell the time to a minute. I have described my watch thus minutely, that my plan may be useful to others with darkened or failing sight.

I am no proficient in music, but listening to it is one of my greatest pleasures; indeed, those with sight have probably no conception of what all sweet sounds, such as the melody of the wind, or the chime of the waves, are to those whose sense of hearing has been refined by blindness. I delight in walking through a picture gallery, and in having the pictures described to me. I take great interest in all natural history, and am never tired of tracing out with my fingers the delicate formation of a flower, or a leaf, or an insect's wing, if either of these is put into my hand.

Thus it will be seen that there are few things from which my blindness shuts me out; and that God's love, though it has closed for me one window, has opened for me many others."

(Here are the photos of the physical article, click for better resolution. Image ID provided using Tumblr's image description system.)

I also found a second article from 1885, from which I sourced the very first image. It's contents are virtually the same aside from some details, and you can read it here.

#disability #history #women in history #blind #alice king #19th century #1800s #1880s #disabled woman #disabled history #mention of religion #the girl's own paper

[rebelwheelssoapbox]

NYC Mayor Wants To Force People To Lower Their Mask (And Why This Is Not The Solution He Claims It Is)

Who hurt Mayor Adams and why does he go to such great lengths to cause so much harm to New York City? As an activist who loves their city, I prefer to shop at small local businesses versus the giant corporate chains, I realize how hard it is for a small business to make it (especially in these times) and how vital the movement to support them really is. That said, as a proud disabled woman who gets around via a motorized wheelchair, I sometimes have no choice but to shop at the larger chain stores due to accessibility issues. It only takes one step to prevent someone like me from having access to a store, but when I see that a small local business has put in the effort to get a ramp etc, it does not go unnoticed. But lately, Mayor Adams has added yet another obstacle for disabled people like me. I don't know what he hopes to accomplish by forcing store employees to harass customers like myself to lower our mask if we want to enter a store. While many people like to pretend that the pandemic is over (and I get it, we all want it to be, but fun fact: that's really not how this works), a lot of us do not have the luxury of such illusions. For people like us, wearing a mask is not optional. From the beginning of the pandemic, my safety as a disabled person has been at best an after thought. And now Mayor Adams wants to make it even harder by forcing people like me to lower our mask, which immediately puts me at risk for COVID. But he's not just harming people like myself. If I can't safely shop at the local stores, then I have no choice but to give my money to the larger online chains. As a result, smaller businesses will lose money, and is this really what Mayor Adams thinks the city needs right now? It also makes you wonder, where does the absurdity end? Many people for religious reasons cover their face (which is their prerogative.) Is the Mayor going to make store employees harass them as well? Will this policy be enforced consistently or will this turn into yet another form of profiling? Mayor Adams insists that this is being done in the name of public safety, but I think the majority of New Yorkers can see through that. After all, if the Mayor really wanted to reduce crime, then he wouldn't be so eager to massively cut funding to education and social services, while giving the NYPD an increased budget. More police has never been the answer, and if his goal was truly to reduce crime, then he would address the root issues as to why crime exists in the first place. Here's a hint: it has nothing to do with people wearing masks.

[image description a photo of New York CIty Mayor Eric Adams is stand outside. He is a bald man with brown skin, wearing a blue blazer with a white shirt. He is smiling and adjusting his collar. behind him you can see a sidewalk and various buildings that are blurry as he is the focus of the photo. ]

#mayor eric adams #mayor adams #nyc mayor #lower your mask #wear a mask #covid is not over #accessibility #disability #disabled woman #pandemic #covid #covid 19 #ableism #shop local #covid19 #covidisairborne #wear your mask #face mask #wheelchair #wheelchair access

[emitchellwrites]

Me.

Hello!

I’m Elle Mitchell, and I’m the disabled author of some novels. Most of them are dark, suspense-filled with secrets, twists, and a good dash of trauma along the way. I do have an LGBTQ+ ghost romance in there for good measure. Links in bio and on my main page for you to check them out and hopefully buy them.

I’ve always found photographs to be inspirational, so I’m dipping into the waters of this space, having not found any place terribly satisfying yet.

Currently, I’m editing a slice-of-life horror novel that will be out March 2023. A Certain Hunger meets American Psycho with a disabled protagonist.

I’m also working on miniatures that are a part of three collections of short stories I have coming out September and October 2023. 

Find me:

website

instagram

patreon

youtube

mastodon

#introductory post #introduction #author #writer's life #writer #fic writers #suspense #horror #lgbtq #crime fiction #dark fiction #disabled writer #disabled author #disabled woman #female author #female writer #short story

[harleescreepycreations]

Handpainted Autumn Dish Set

💲120 for all or by piece

14oz Wineglass

18oz Mug

10" Large Plate

8½" Small Plate

8" Bowl

11" Platter

Zipper Makeup Bag

#selling #decor #mugs #makeupbag #winestagram #wineglass #wineoclock #thanksgiving decor #thanksgiving #dishware #handpainted #fall vibes #fall leaves #pumpkin #pumpkins #autumn #autumn aesthetic #disabledcreator #disabled woman #witch art #woman artist #female artists #smallbuisnessowner #etsyseller #giftshop #giftformom #decor ideas #tabledecor #glass #autumn leaves

[brightorangerain]

Via @brightorangerain

#girls just wanna have fundamental human rights #girls #women #fundamental human rights #human rights #brightorangerain #bitmoji #disabled women #disabled woman #wheelchair users #pride

[katruna]

This is my daughter’s roommate. If you, like me, don’t have money; I’d appreciate prayers, candles, incense, energy or just plain old good wishes for them. Gods bless the US medical system.

Flipping Ronald Reagan

#go fund me #disabled woman #medical expenses

[janestory]

#spilled ink #writing #english #poetry #daily poems #poetry on tumblr #life #writer on tumblr #thoughts #embrace #the imperfects #disabled woman #cerebral palsy #flaws #happiness

[oasisr]

Anyone in the Central Valley area in California want to start a van life caravan?

My brother's wife stole thousands of dollars from my family after she caught him cheating on her.

So, our electricity and gas are scheduled to be turned off today, and we're struggling to pay rent.

While I understand her hatred of my brother for his actions, I am heartbroken that she is taking everything out on myself and my parents as well, who would never even condone infidelity.

Anyways, my toxic family is the reason that I'm thinking of selling my possessions and moving into my vehicle.

If anyone lives in my area feel free to like or reblog this, and I'll shoot you a DM. Caravan life awaits us. 🌻

*Please be a trustworthy and moral person. Also, I am not seeking a relationship or sex. Just looking for my fellow humans are in a similar situation/ on a similar path in life.

#van life #car life #car dweller #Christian #Christian woman #homeless #women with disabilities #disabled woman #cancer survivor #California #Central Valley #lodi #lodi ca #lodi California #linden #linden ca #linden California

[jackcast2021]

Quad blonde beauty

#quadriplegic girl #quadriplegic woman #quadriplegic #handicapped girl #handicapped woman #uses a wheelchair #uses a power chair #disabled #Disabled girl #disabled woman #Handicapped

[latinawheels]

Your paraplegic Barbie

#disabled #paraplegic #wheelchair #lesbian #lgbtq #disabled and cute #spinal cord injury #wheelchair life #disabled and proud #feeling like Barbie #paraplegic woman #disabled woman

[rebelwheelsnycshow]

Tallullah (a poem)

TALLULLAH by Rebelwheels NYC / Michele Kaplan Tallullah, I've decided, that the word tumor, is just too damn heavy to have to keep repeating, and repeating and repeating Tallullah, so often to ears, who don't know what to say so they say, nothing at all those who are left speechless those, whose go to response for all things medical is “Well, at least it's not cancer” until it might be, and then they just turn away.

Tallullah, some days, I want to hit them over the head with a book marked  compassion all those sales reps, with their pyramid schemes of toxic positivity those who preached for years “be grateful, it's not worse” when I got a brain cyst benign react to this, that is now possible, like it was never said those who tell me stories of their uncle who had cancer and now he is dead for fucks sake, these moments, unsolicited, contributions to this towering trifle of fuckery. Like a punch in the chest, fuck off and so, because the word tumor. Too more. Tooooo mooooooore is too heavy, to repeat,Tallullah because I deserve lightness and relief, Tallullah because I deserve time and space to grieve this change I've named you, my resident, this fellowship Tallullah & The Possible Cancer This that low key sounds like a band name This that low keys sounds like a poem Tallullah, Captain of The Crimson Tide Tallullah Of The Pelvic Volcano Tallullah, who throws seemingly random lightning bolts of pain from the hill tops of Uterus Valley because she wants out   Tallullah who is tired of being blamed Tallullah who wanted to be a rock in a pond in nature instead of a mass met with disdain. Tallullah, the bizarre-ness of it all nearly drowns me at times, when doctors says words like cancer & operation in a tone used to convey, what one might have for lunch. Perhaps a casual tuna sandwich (cancer) with a side of (operation) fries. Tallullah, I feel it, the rising of, trauma and trust issues inside & valid the doctors who came before who have caused me such harm the doctors of now that even with good intentions, who at best, of times don't fully understand my body so how can they help me? Tallullah, I need their help Tallullah, their go to treatments are not accessible, safe nor designed for this alien body, divine. Tallullah, this added dollop of ableism, this draining of my heart, and time and I am crying Tallullah, when I ask the universe why, is this part of my journey, Tallullah, I don't get an answer even if this knowledge is not yet mine, to know, nonetheless what the hell as I go, down-ward spiraling, unraveling, stuck there and stress

Tallullah, I'm tired of being an afterthought at best Tallullah, it's bad enough the CDC doesn't care if disabled people die or live Tallullah, how I long sometimes, just to be held, in someone's arms, close but freely but can't because this pandemic is not over & I am quarantining (and those infuriatingly outside, walking, mask free – in some false dream like it''s all over, Tallullah and I am not safe.) Tallullah. when I call you by this name know, I am not down-playing the situation I am, defiantly, creating, art, stories, beauty from this fuckery & pain this, that breaks my heart a heart, still healing (reeling, grieving, rising)   for a year ago in August, my thyroid became inflamed and it stole my light, my poetry, my art & most of my sleep. I've worked so hard, to get them back, Tallulah, please let them be.

Tallullah, when I write you, these words they are, powerful in a time where I feel, overload, overwhelmed and not in control but this poem, is something, is mine, a protest, a release, a reclaiming this vulnerability, with no apologies, your name,   this open door and flowing waters, flooding this power, this moment, this free-ing, to choosing, to rise, to speak. (Author’s Note: I may delete this from this blog, as it might be a part of a collection of poetry that in the future I will try to get published. Sometimes publishers don’t like it when you share you stuff on the internet as it counts as previously published. But I wanted to share this until then.)

#uterus #poetry #disabled poet #disabled poetry #poems about ableism #ableism #disability #disabled woman #tumor #processing #healing #self care #vulnerability #reclaiming #cancer #possibly cancer

[borplecolored]

Happy International Women's Day!

to all women, i love you

#woman #women #trans women #trans woman #trans #girl #girls #fat women #fat woman #skinny woman #skinny women #black woman #black women #poc woman #poc women #ALL women #disabled women #disabled woman

[wheelie-sick]

happy disability pride month to every transmasc with a condition that's heavily associated with women

happy disability pride month to every transmasc who feels dysphoric because of their condition

happy disability pride month to every transmasc who gets misgendered by all the awareness for their condition

happy disability pride month to every transfem with a condition that's heavily associated with men

happy disability pride month to every transfem who feels dysphoric because of their condition

happy disability pride month to every transfem who gets misgendered by all the awareness for their condition

#physical disability #physically disabled #cripple punk #cripplepunk #chronic illness #chronically ill #transmasc #wrote this about my SLE #I'm tired of having the 'woman's autoimmune disease' #I am not a woman