place

it's been a challenging couple of weeks, facing this situation I'm in and all the things that led to that.

Last night I attended crip the lit, spoken word by disabled peeps on the theme of disabled ancestry. I thought a lot on the way home about the masters dedication I wrote and how I've lost touch with what I felt about the work, why I began.

it's bittersweet in a way, I'm still not sure I feel I deserve the same peace, space, acceptance that the work demands for us. Maybe this is why I haven't achieved anything lately. It's hard to find a path when I think I'll find what I need in neuroqueer spaces but it's the neurotypical world who ultimately probably needs to pay me. So how can I find my shape, my place. Become the ancestor I set out to be without forfeiting my present.

I loved hearing such varied takes on what is an ancestor, the ways they chose to speak it. Possibly inevitably the words that resonated the most were by Lee Ota-Calderwood, also autistic, also queer. I too am racing the ghost of my former self. But whether fond or biting, literal or poetic, soaked in pain or joy they all gave me something which is a reminder of the right to just to be. And that no matter what else I probably do need to keep talking.