Posted in Being human

We’re Worth More Than This

Today is Disability Day of Mourning.  A day for mourning disabled people who get murdered, usually by family or caregivers.

And I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know how to convey what it means to know how much our lives are really worth, at the same time as knowing how little other people think they’re worth.

I don’t know how to convey what it means to have people try to kill you, try to ‘let you die’, try to convince you your life isn’t worth living, try to convince you you’re selfish for being alive and wanting to stay alive, and the whole idea that we’re just dumps for wasted resources.

I don’t know how to convey what it’s like to know that your life and the life of everyone like you is being held hostage in exchange for services.  Because that’s what it means when people loudly proclaim that lack of services are the reason for us getting murdered.

I don’t know how to convey what it means to lose people, over and over again, to know that it keeps on happening.  What it means to know that some of the most prolific serial killers in history have deliberately targeted disabled people because they knew they could get away with it more easily.

Every single one of us is worth more than that.  Every.  Single.  One.

There’s a memorial site here: Disability Day of Mourning

This is an older memorial site that Joelle Smith and I put together eons ago:  Murder of Autistics (archived)

I don’t know what to say.  I don’t know how to say it.  This memorial, it doesn’t even begin to cover the sheer number of lives lost:  Usually it doesn’t make the news, often it’s assumed to be something else, often our deaths are treated as inevitable.   The idea that it’s a hate crime isn’t even discussed.  I’m too tired of it to explain anymore.  We’re worth more than this.  That’s all.

Author:

Hufflepuff. Came from the redwoods, which tell me who I am and where I belong in the world. I relate to objects as if they are alive, but as things with identities and properties all of their own, not as something human-like. Culturally I'm from a California Okie background. Crochet or otherwise create constantly, write poetry and paint when I can. Proud member of the developmental disability self-advocacy movement. I care a lot more about being a human being than I care about what categories I fit into.

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