Where does the future live in your body?Touch it
Sri Lankan radical women don't come alone,we have a tradition of coming in groups of three or four.The Thiranagama sisters are the most beloved and famousbut my appamma and great aunties were the Wild Alvis Girls in Sri Lanka in the 20sThen there is your sister, your cousin, your great-auntseveryone infamous and unknownWe come in packs,we argue,we sneak each other out of the housewe have passionate agreements and disagreementswe love each other very much but can't stand to be in the same room or continent for yearsWe do things like, oh, start the first rape crisis center in Jaffna in a war zone in someone's living roomWhen war forces our hands,we all move to Australia or London or Thunder Bay togetheror if the border do not love us, we are what keeps Skype in businessWhen one or more of us is murderedby the State or a husbandwe survivewhether we want to or not.
I am an only childI may not have been born into siblinghoodbut I went out and found mine.Made mine.
We come in packseven when we are alone
Because sometimes the only ancestral sisterlove waiting for youis people in books, dreamsaunties you made uppeople who are waiting for you in the clouds ten years in the futureand when you get thereyou make your packand you send that loveback2.When the newly disabled come
they come bearing terror and desperate. Everyone else has left themto drown on the titanic. They don’t know there is anybodybut the abled. They come asking for knowledgethat is common to me as breath, and exotic to them as, well,being disabled and unashamed.They ask about steroids and sleep. About asking for help.About how they will ever possibly convince their friends and familythey are not lazy or useless.I am generous- we crips always are.They were me.They don't know if they can call themselves that,they would never use that word, but they see me calling myself that,ie, disabled, and the lens is blurring, maybe there is another worldthey have never seenwhere crips limp slowly, laugh, have shitty and good daysrecalibrate the world to our bodies instead of sprinting trying to keep upMake everyone slow down to keep pace with us.The sicko multiverse after their world ended
Sometimes when I am about to email the resource list,the interpreter phone numbers, the hot chronic pain tips, the supplement list, the best place to rent aramp,
my top five favorite medical cannabis strains, my extra codeine dermal patch- it's about to expire, butdon't worry it's still good,I want to slip in a PS that says,remember back when I was a cripand you weren't, how I had a flare and had to cancel our day trip and when I told you, you looked confusedand all you knew how to say was, Boooooooooo!as I was lying on the ground, trying to breathe?Do you even remember that?Do your friends say that to you, now?Do you want to come join us, on the other side?Is there a free future in this femme of color disabled body?3.When I hear my femme say When I'm old and am riding a motorcycle with white hair down my backWhen I hear my femme say When I'm old and sex work paid off my house and my retirementWhen I hear my femme/ myself say When I get dementia and I am held with respect when I am between all the worldsWhen I see my femme packing it all in because crip years are like dog years and you never know whenthey're going to shoot Old YellerWhen I hear my femme say when I quit my teaching gig and never have to deal with white male academic nonsense again
When I hear us plan the wheelchair accessible femme of color trailer park,the land we already have a plan to pay the taxes onSee the money in the bank and the ways we grip our thighs back to ourselves
When I hear us dream our futures,believe we will make it to one,We will make one.
The future lives in our bodiesTouch it.