KosAbility is a community diary series posted at 5 PM ET every Sunday and Wednesday by volunteer diarists. This is a gathering place for people who are living with disabilities, who love someone with a disability, or who want to know more about the issues surrounding this topic. There are two parts to each diary. First, a volunteer diarist will offer their specific knowledge and insight about a topic they know intimately. Then, readers are invited to comment on what they've read and or ask general questions about disabilities, share something they've learned, tell bad jokes, post photos, or rage about the unfairness of their situation. Our only rule is to be kind; trolls will be spayed or neutered.
I won't be taking off my Gay Writer hat and putting on my Disabled Writer hat this evening. Even if I could do it I wouldn't attempt it. I'm a person. I'm a writer. I'm an activist. I'm disabled. I'm gay. There is no part of my identity I'm not proud of. There is no part of my identity that anyone can minimize or take away from me in order to uncomplicate their perception of my story. I won't hide anything from anyone.
It's not just that people who are double minorities endure more stress than others. That's expected. It's a lot more complicated, because different identities require confronting different types of issues in different settings and still sometimes the two identities clash. A problem might come up that involves interplay between both of your identities, and you have to figure out - all on your own - how you're supposed to handle it.
It's sort of a given that these issues would come up, and so I'm not looking for pity when I point out that I'm both gay and disabled. I do, however, want people to understand and respect my perspective. I'm sure anyone wants the same.
I like to use my friend as an example in discussions of the intersections of different identities. He was told that "'gay' trumps any race" in the middle of a discussion about the gay community, feminism and race. It really doesn't. We don't get to turn off one facet of our existence. If I'm talking to you about being in a wheelchair, that doesn't mean I'm no longer gay. If I'm talking about being gay, I'm not suddenly walking again. We don't get a break from one in order to discuss the other. I only wish that were so.
I've discussed this point elsewhere: my two different identities are unique in that one of them is clearly visible and the other one is not, unless I actively choose to inform people about it. And I'm not shy about telling people about either aspect of my identity, regardless. But the point is that it's different. It feels different for me when I'm visible as a person in a wheelchair than it feels to be invisible as a gay person. The wheelchair makes me feel so stressed precisely because it makes a lot of people feel sorry for me. I feel like it'd almost be better to be seen as someone who's not in a chair.
On the other hand, I've actively tried to come out as gay. I wear a rainbow arm band everywhere I go. I write about LGBT issues, I'm out to family and friends (though to be up front it's not something I discuss with most members of my family now that I'm out) and I haven't shut up about that for years.
So you see how I might feel conflicted.
Aside from the obvious, though, there are a lot of health issues that affect people who are LGBT and people who are disabled, and they hurt LGBT disabled people in complicated ways. I remember when I was fifteen years old and I'd just gotten paralyzed. I got shipped off to this rehab hospital immediately so I could re-learn how to do things from a chair. Some of those things seemed pointless to re-learn and others were vital. But the issue of sex came up. Typically, someone who'd just gotten paralyzed could inquire about any sex-related questions they may have had. It's an important life function and paralysis can cause different types of problems with sex. But I was disabled, gay and deeply closeted in the south. Do you think I ever asked any nurses or doctors about that subject? It was definitely the last thing I would have considered asking them about.
But it was probably important information. If I'd only been disabled, I could have mentioned it to anyone and I would've gotten a positive response. What fifteen year old heterosexual isn't curious about sex? Even for someone who's just gotten paralyzed, it's normal to ask about that sort of thing. It's harder for someone to risk their privacy and safety to ask about the things I wanted to know.
That's only the beginning. Let's look at housing. Since I'm disabled, I can get access to low income housing and in fact I live in a low income apartment. However, until recently, there was no real attempt to protect anyone from housing discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity. So down here in the south, I could have been one of the lucky few who managed to gain access to low income housing, to get motivated enough to move out on my own despite being a paraplegic in a wheelchair and then I could be kicked out of said housing because I'm gay.
Do you think I can separate this out? Do I need to to be a straight handicapped person for housing and only mention the gay thing in a more convenient and welcoming setting?
What about employment? I'm totally protected - in theory - from discrimination on the basis of my disability. But I could jump over the "disability" hurdle and still be lawfully terminated because of my sexual orientation. There is no ENDA. Upwards of 80% of Americans not only support protections against job discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity, they think these protections already exist. But there exists no federal protections. None in my state, either.
But there is also the reverse problem.
Do I need to be a gay person and only mention the handicap when it's convenient? That'd be easier when I'm dealing with political issues for sure. I could totally disregard any strategic disagreements I've had with LGBT orgs and bloggers and ignore our lack of focus on HIV/AIDS and other health issues because I could just not be disabled for the times I'm discussing LGBT issues. I could ignore housing, homelessness, poverty (things that could and do affect me at differing points and degrees in my life due to insurance and hospital bills and doctors' visits and medications and medical equipment) and I could stick to things like marriage and DADT (something I actually did focus on, relentlessly, in fact.)
And it's more than politics. While it's hard to disregard the fact that a sexual minority identity is automatically considered a political identity, it should be recognized that it's also a personal identity. I guess I can understand how if someone's reading a post written by me about LGBT issues they might not think about the fact that they're reading something written by a disabled LGBT person. Or the other way around. But I think the acknowledgement of my perspective is important and it's a good idea to recognize that no matter which topic I'm discussing, both pieces of who I am are leading me to consider and approach things in the way I do.
I'm not capable of focusing on only one aspect of my life and I will never be. Disability issues are very important to me. LGBT issues are very important to me. I will never sacrifice one fight for another. This is my reality. I don't understand the drive to oversimplify everything and to put people in these claustrophobic cages. I don't understand why some people think they have the right to define my identity for me. To pick which box I go in - even after I've decided on my own the way I want to present myself. My identity belongs to me. Worry about your own.