Meriah Nichols Talks About Disability: Recent Episodes
Meriah Nichols
This is an interview with Jose Rosario, a bad ass activist, mental health therapist, super smart and fun guy who has somehow never watched Star Trek. It is a part of the Cool Cats: Voices from the Disability Community series, in which Meriah interviews cool people from the disability community so you can get to know them.Jose's "Short" BioBorn to young Puerto Rican parents, José Rosario developed Cerebral Palsy as a premature baby. His family's journey towards equity deeply impacted his mental health. Currently nearing his PhD in Clinical Psychology, his research focuses on cultural trauma in intersectional communities. He is an Interdisciplinary Minority Fellow for the American Psychological Association, member of the Congressional Diversity and Equality Advisory Board for Congressman James Langevin, and member of the Rhode Island Attorney General Community Advisory Board. He has been honored with the Chris Martin Humanitarian Award and the Victoria Lederberg Award for Excellence in Psychology. José is a keynote speaker and workshop facilitator helping business, nonprofits, and educational institutions to understand and implement identity-inclusive mental health protocols and culturally aware community healing.https://youtu.be/_ZgoUvAopKgAn Interview with Jose Rosario, Cool CatMeriah: [00:00:00] Okay. Welcome Jose. Thank you so much for joining me here on Unpacking Disability and, the Cool Cat Voices from the Disability Community Series where we try to. bring disability community together and introduce cool people from the cross-disability community of which you are definitely one. And thank you so much for being here.Jose: Thank you for having me. I'm so glad that we have a space to also show people with disabilities is not one note characters. We are complex. Meriah: Oh, absolutely. I'm wondering if you can take a minute to introduce yourself. Jose: Sure. Who am I? That's a great question. I am a speaker. I'm an activist. I'm also a therapist. I'm mental health therapist, and I'm a researcher. All of my work is about intersectional violence and how intersectional communities, queer bipoc folks, [00:01:00] queer, disabled folks react to violence and engage in healing. And so, I'm often thinking. About how folks are experiencing harm from various directions. And we don't just cower in fear. There are ways in which we pick ourselves up as a community and move forward. And so, wanting to bring that to light and support and affirm that as much as I can. Meriah: Wow. Thank you. There's so much I want to talk to you about. Yeah. So much. One of the things about the Cool Cat series is as I started this a long time ago,and I ask the same set of questions to everybody. And the point of that is really to emphasize the difference in our answers and how we are so very different. Like we're all coming to this with a lived experience and disability and we're so diverse. I think that's part of the beauty of everyone answering the same set of questions. Diving into those questions, [00:02:00] I am wondering what is your connection with disability? Jose: Oh, such an intimate connection, right? I have been disabled my entire life, and I recognize that disability is the one identity where it can happen anytime in your lifespan. So, all I know is my experience as a disabled person. I was born premature. A couple of months into birth, I stopped breathing and, acquired some brain damage, which led to my CP diagnosis. And so being in a wheelchair using canes like this has been a huge part of me. And I think for a long time there was this. Tension, right? The sort of like, why me aspect to this? Why am I different? What did I do? Why did I have to be this way? And I have very fortunately swung on the other side of the pendulum and been like, you know what? The way that I have to access the world, the way that I have to go into a space and be like,
This is an essay about perspective, choosing the stories we tell ourselves and the ways we wish to frame our own narrative. This was originally published in February 2020 but remains just as relevant today as it did then. I read the post in the video below, or listen to it through the podcast embedded. Options!https://youtu.be/9q4y1sDa7t0?si=GOjq2NsMya2w7vCZI woke up feeling kind of crappy.My body felt old, I feel like I never have enough energy to do everything I want to do, and that bums me out. I have a mountain of things to do, and a lot of them include stuff like bill payment, but then the paint is flaking off the walls of my new house (- because the people who sold it to me did some kind of quick-fix paint thing and it's all falling off).I have to call to go to an audiologist, to make sure I'm really deaf, so I can qualify for a deaf tax credit. I have to call to take Mack to an audiologist because his teacher has concerns about his hearing.Bleh.All of this stuff is my Pile o' Life , and for sure, the longer I look at it, the bigger it all gets and the more tired I feel.But I'm not unique or alone in having a Pile o' Life!We all have it. It may or may not include disability.I can't choose the elements of the Pile o' Life very easily, but I can choose what I do with them, I choose how I feel about them, I choose what my focus will be.When I feel really crappy and overwhelmed by my Pile, I close my eyes and I think of my perfect world.I think of my world at it's best, what I dream of.I write out a story - a magical, fanciful story of the wonder of my life, of all the beauty that it has and holds and expounds.I write out this story of my world as my spirit sees it, not as the Pile sees it.Simply the act of doing this is transformative, empowering, a pivot, a game changer.Us Parents of Kids with Disabilities Have a LOT on Our PlatesThere are no ifs, ands or buts about this.I spent two solid weeks crying over my daughter's IEP; I spent another two solid weeks trying to figure out my son's 504 and if he was going to get one, or what.I spent a few days even grieving about my third kid potentially having one of the same disabilities as me - and I know I'm "not supposed" to grieve; it's supposed to be totally kosher and cool because I am a strong proponent of disability culture, right?But I DO grieve. I grieve because disability is a natural and normal part of the human experience and yet it's such a big fucking deal with people who don't understand it.I grieve because I don't want my kids to go through what I have. I grieve because while the personal experience of disability can be powerful and wonderful, public access and inclusion are royal pains in the ass.Us People with Disabilities Have a LOT on Our PlatesThere are no ifs, ands or buts about this.I have to fight for every.single.scrap of access that is thrown my way.I need to figure out how to stay strong and true to my spirit while wading through mires of C-PTSD and neurodivergence.I need to figure out how to remember anything when my brain wants to let loose.I need to figure out what is being said around me, because it's all a hushed mumble.I have constant, daily stress from the news and the threats of x, y and z being cut and I don't know what I"m going to do about any of it.I am exhausted from trying to explain how I "don't look" disabled but I sure as hell am, and that being disabled is not a bad thing.These Plates of Mine Are FullThe plates, the Pile o' Life.All that stuff is real and there and like I said, the focus and feelings are my choices.So I sit down and write the new stories.I write stories of a world that we create that celebrates every person, ALL PEOPLE, that realizes and recognizes that we are all Beloved.I write stories that include my beautiful home, my gardens that feed and sustain both body and spirit,
This post is about the best speech to text apps and is updated from a 2020 post. Affiliate links may be present - doesn't cost you more, helps keep this blog going and does not affect my rating of the product (- I use captions too; I'm not going to recommend junk for the sake of making a few pennies).
This post is meant to serve as a resource for deaf or Deaf people (hearing impaired, hard of hearing) who need to understand what is being said. Some the side benefit of being helpful to hearing people who want to record information.
This is available in a downloadable PDF for my patrons, linked here.
It's also at the end of this post for people who benefit from access to PDF's.
Speech to Text Apps
Speech to text apps - or live captions, auto captions - are useful for pretty much everyone in some capacity. If you are hearing, they can record your notes, translate content, help with communication. For us hearing impaired in any capacity - deaf, Deaf, hard of hearing - they serve as a vital communication tool to help us understand what people are saying. They take the speech (that others are saying) and put it into written form.
Some Pointers on the Apps Listed:
When possible, these apps are linked to the iOS (Apple) store. It is indicated in each app if it is available through Android.
All of the speech to text apps are FREE, but some of them require a subscription after a certain amount of trial has passed.
The apps that were created specifically to help us deaf in speech to text are listed first; the apps that were created by and for hearing and just incidentally help us deaf, are listed after.
All of the apps were installed on my phone and I tried then out before listing.
Speech to Text Apps Created for the Deaf/Hard of Hearing
Product Image Product Name / Description Price / Primary Button
Ava: Transcribe Voice to Text
Ava is an app designed to empower people who are deaf or hard-of-hearing by allowing to follow conversations in real time. The app provides 24/7 real-time captioning (with up to 95% accuracy, based on artificial intelligence), on your smartphone.
Free, with In-App Purchases
Check it Out
Sorenson BuzzCards
Type it. Show it. BuzzCards is an app designed to help deaf people communicate easily with people who don’t know sign language. The app works like a deck of flashcards. You type the message and show it to the person with whom you are communicating. You can write and save cards with the message.
Free
Check it Out
This was originally published on September 7, 2012. It's a personal post on strength, love and courage.You can listen to me read this post by clicking the player below, or on my podcast on Spotify or iTunes. Maya Angelou once said that courage is the most important virtue, because without it, we wouldn't be able to consistently practice the others. I've always agreed with that, because it can be hard to be kind. It can be hard to be forgiving, hard to summon the love sometimes. In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown reminded us that the root of the word courage is cor - the Latin word for heart. I've thought about that a lot, about how courage is really something that goes deeper and beyond bravery, waving a sword around on a battlefield or something like that. Courage is heart-based. And heart based means it's central to who we fundamentally are, central to our physical and spiritual lives. You can live without your brain. You can't live without your heart. Love, to me, seems like blood. It's the blood that keeps the system working. It's the energy behind movement, the Force from Star Wars, it's the link between the brain and heart, the connection between us all on the deepest level possible. I've thought about this a lot, as choosing to keep my daughter after an amniocentesis revealed she would be coming with Down syndrome, was difficult. I am pro-choice, and I have disabilities: I know how hard it can be to navigate a world that wasn't built for you. I didn't know if choosing to bring her into the world was the right thing to do. And I was scared.I've been scared, so scared. Scared to have her. Scared to mess up. Scared to make the wrong choices and alter someone else's life in radical, negative ways. Scared of not being able to hear, of my neurodivergence and how my disabilities might make parenting even more difficult. Scared of being unable to provide for my family. Scared of poverty. Scared of bad things happening to my child, to my children.Lao Tzu said that being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. The love that my kids have blessed me with has been the mojo - the moxie! - that I've sustained myself when I'm too tired, too weak, when my brain feels paralyzed or whatever I am going through. Their love quite literally, as Lao Tzu says, gives me strength.My love for them comes from my heart, the source of courage. It's an interesting thing to feel this subtle difference between the strength received from being loved by them, and the courage I am able to pull up through dint of my love for them. Read more in my book, the first 4 Years with Moxie - 4 Years: Essays With a Little Moxie$5Meriah's essays from the first 4 years of living with Moxie: Down syndrome, disability, ableism and more. 142 pages of essays, original artwork and photographs. Buy Now
This was originally published on March 6, 2013 It is an account of the time that I was pregnant with Moxie. Please be aware this post discusses violence, sexual abuse and abortion.You can listen to me read this post by clicking the player below, or on my podcast on Spotify or iTunes. I.The beginning of my pregnancy with Moxie feels jumbled, as I recollect it now, some 3 years later.It’s a blur of happenings, events moving swiftly upon each other like quick waves that peak in a tsunami. The blur may be due to the events themselves or may be to the way my mind works – I am neurodivergent. I also rammed my head into the windshield of a car when I was 4 years old. Memories for me often shape themselves in unusual ways.Like the day that we went to see our daughter for the first time.I remember being in a black short dress with pirate sleeves that was from H&M, with black flared yoga pants. I liked that dress. I remember wanting to wear cherry red lipstick and not having any. I remember I wore my Earth moonboots and that Mikey didn’t like them. I remember that we passed a moss green Nissan Cube on the way there. I remember the weather was crisp, dry and clear. I think I was about 10 weeks pregnant. I know I was 36 years old (I just did the math). I also know that I was pregnant after just having had a second trimester miscarriage.We were on our way to the special clinic, the one where they send “higher risk” pregnancies to be examined. Once there, in the dim room with the brightness of the ultrasound machine in front of us, my belly exposed with glistening gel slathered on, we saw the blinking of our baby’s heart, knew she was alive and for that, were happy. But we knew that the long pause and the lack of chatter from the technician signaled a problem.She left, and returned with the very same perinatologist who had told me that my last child had died. My heart sank as I saw him and I blurted out something along the lines of, “but the baby is alive! I know it! I can see the heart beating!”He nodded. Yes, our baby was alive but there were problems. He showed us the line of her skin and the line of her body: they were clearly separated. She had a condition called diffuse fetal hydrops, in which her skin was completely separated from her body, with fluid lying between the two. She had heart holes. She was unlikely to make it to term. “0%” chance of survival, he gave her. He suggested that we have an amniocentesis before she died to find out the cause of the hydrops – not necessarily for her as she was clearly beyond saving, he said – but for future pregnancies.Numb, and with aching hearts, we consented and returned a few weeks later for the test.II.The amniocentesis revealed the presence of an extra chromosome. It also revealed that the baby was a girl. And miraculously – her diffuse fetal hydrops had completely resolved itself.Despite being strongly encouraged to terminate her life on account of the Down syndrome, we chose to keep her.Perhaps I should be more honest here: my husband chose to keep her. My husband was adamant about keeping her, saying that we needed to “play with the cards we are given.”Continuing in this vein of honesty, I am not sure I would have kept her, had I not been with him.Having grown up deaf, with brain injury and with my auditory processing disorder – not to mention with scars all over my face, I know what it’s like to grow up with a disability. I know what it’s like to be excluded, mocked, and outcast. I know what it’s like to literally have stones thrown at you, because you are different, an “other”. I have a chip in my front tooth from a time that I fought back, but the (much larger) boy was wearing a ring when he punched me in the mouth.I have been abused. I have been raped. And I am the norm in this: statistics clearly show that up to 90% of people with disabilities have been sexually abused,
This is a personal post that wraps up the first part, Almost 50Listen to me read this by clicking the player below: Almost 50, Part 2: DetailsYou know what bothers me about the post I just sent your way, “Almost 50”? It bothers me that I was talking about real things in a vague way. Time passing faster. Be here now. That stuff. I want to add more detail to make those real statements less vague. In 2022 a few things happened: I completed my second master’s degree, this one in counseling psychology, and was headed to the world of full time work (outside the house and for someone else) again. I had also realized that I am on the Autism spectrum myself, with ADHD. In 2022, I was ushering my oldest son in to high school (- can we just sit on that for minute?! HIGH SCHOOL!!!) with his 504 in place and was going through many of the 3am panic-wake-ups at the thought of my daughter entering middle school next year (- MIDDLE SCHOOL!!). In there, I was also trying to figure out what is going on with my youngest son, who is currently in speech therapy for his speech differences. I didn’t know if he’s hearing impaired or has an auditory processing disorder… or what? So there was that. In between these things, my oldest son morphed into a REAL TEENAGER. I won’t get into the details but suffice to say that a month and a half were completely swallowed by all the things that were going on with him. Gulp. Swish. That time: Gone. Meanwhile, I was in a job search, remember? On a large island with very limited opportunities. Ha. While I love the private counseling that I do, and I love this blog and the freelance work, I have missed being a part of a team. I miss working with other people in real life, miss the human connection. I also miss economic stability and the greater financial security. I don’t think that can happen now, though. I don’t think I can work outside the house in something full time. That’s where I was vague in the ‘time passing faster’ and ‘be here now’. I see these kids of mine growing so fast, and needing me right here, right now. I need to drive them to this place or that, check in on this or that, organize something or other, and I have no idea how I would make that happen if I was working a regular full-time job. Added to that, my neurodivergence and my hearing. I’m trying to get a handle on the 4 million projects I take on, all the creative explosions that plop out of me. I’m trying to feel more grounded in this time-space reality that is moving so quickly and use my time here in a way that will help me become the person that I would like to be when I die. My hearing doesn’t help – focusing on what people say to me can be exhausting the listening fatigue is real. I don’t know if I can realistically handle that AND the full-time parenting that I do AND supporting my family. I think turning 50 this year for me is about taking stock of the decisions that I need to make with the time that I have. What are my bottom-line priorities? What is my “prime directive”? Knowing what I’m working with now – my ADHD/Autism –and hearing, it’s actually easier, because I can recognize what I’m doing and pull myself back. I can create systems for myself that are game changers. I LOVE getting older, knowing this. I LOVE knowing that the way my mind functions is perfectly fine, all of this has a reason and there are simple ways forward. This knowledge helps mitigate some of the absolute agony of ADHD and the fatigue I can feel when the hearing gets to be too much. “Time passing faster” and “be here now” also applies to my love life. I think it would be nice to be in a relationship again. But I can’t do that with all the things that have been going on with my kids and my ADHD. I can’t focus on that many things at once, I’ll get derailed and it takes too long to get back on track. I worry about that sometimes, like,
This is a review of the book, "Year of the Tiger: An Activist's Life," by Alice Wong. You can listen to me read this post by clicking the player below this, or on my podcast on Spotify or iTunes.
Year of the Tiger: An Activist's Life
Sometimes I feel like any memoir written even a little decently and capturing a piece of the disability experience is poised to become a bestseller. Not necessarily because it deserves to be – not because it really brings us to a new place or takes us where our mind explodes in an element of new awesomeness. They just become bestsellers because of woke box-checking.
Alice Wong’s “Year of the Tiger” is a whole different cat. It BELONGS on the bestseller list. Oprah needs to pick this book up it needs to be required reading for all those diversity and disability college courses.
Why?
Glad you asked. First, here’s the trajectory of Instagram updates that I posted as I was reading it:
https://youtu.be/GOTItJT-Fek
You’ll probably noticed that my tone changed after I started really reading Year of the Tiger, right?
I got pretty serious, pretty fast. I went from masking/smiley/happy, “oh cool, my friend wrote a book and this is awesome!” to, not smiley or masking at all – not even caring that my selfie angles were completely unflattering because I just wanted to get that message out that “this book is phenomenal and you better pay attention.”
That is how good this book is.
So, again, why?
Why is Year of the Tiger so good?
Out of all the books available in the world right now, why should you reach for this one?
Here’s why:
Alice is a really good writer who knows her shit
In a world that doesn’t take disability seriously when it should, and way too seriously when it doesn’t need to, Alice consistently hits the right notes and explains the pieces that matter. She’s your buddy who always says the perfect thing, who knows how to twirl a sentence out so it can cast the messages, sinking them deep while you laugh, cry, or get pissed off.
But she’s also a storyteller.
Year of the Tiger isn’t all disability stuff; it’s also about being a Chinese immigrant in Indiana, it’s about culture, family, connections, community. It’s about choices and chances in life.
These intersections speak to Alice’s life, but they echo through all of us, they are relatable because we all have our intersections and if we are lucky, they can help ground and support us. Alice seems to be lucky in hers, and it’s a beautiful story.
Alice is playful, snarky, and fun
On the heels of good writing comes a good time, and Alice definitely enjoys a good time. She has games, puzzles, drawings, and photos woven into her stories. Her descriptions of all that good food left me drooling.
Because disability justice and advocacy can be so painful, I appreciate her playful approach to handling some Big Subjects – playful, but she still handles them. She doesn’t shirk the hard stuff that we really need to talk about.
And of course, I love her use of curse words :)
Alice has vision and leads by example
Her strength of vision comes through clear and strong in this, her first memoir. She is a powerful visualizer, seeing the world as it is – with rampant ableism, oppression, and inequities. She sees the world as it should be, in the Star Trek model (and even beyond!) but in her striving to bridge the present with the future, she somehow remarkably and miraculously manages to refrain from falling into vats of bitterness, despair or anger. She remains playful, spirited, a calm force of connection.
I want to talk about that calm because it inspires me (in the best sense of that loaded word).
My brain is in a perpetual rush, trying to Do All The Things and getting super excited about each new project or whatever. Alice shows me through her writing how possible it is – how necessary even – to take time to get things done right. How important access is,
This is a comprehensive post about Medicare. It covers: What is Medicare? What Are the Parts of Medicare? Detailed Explanations on the Parts of Medicare? Who Can Get Medicare and way more - please refer to the table below with links to jump directly to the part you are looking for guidance on.
Kathleen Downes wrote this post. She knows a whole lot about Medicare but she does not work for Medicare. Take what's offered here as friendly advice and do your own investigation too!
You can listen to Kathleen read this by clicking below, or subscribing to the podcast at the end of this post.
What is Medicare?
Medicare is a U.S. government-run health insurance program for qualified workers age 65+ and some people with disabilities. It is run by the federal government or the government for our whole country.
The money that pays for Medicare comes from 2 trust funds held by the U.S. government (Medicare 2021).
The first fund, the Hospital Insurance fund, pays for Part A costs such as inpatient hospital stays, limited home health services, and limited stays in skilled nursing facilities. I will talk more about the parts of Medicaid later (Medicare 2021).
The money from the hospital insurance fund comes from:
Payroll taxes Income taxes on Social Security retirement benefits Interest on trust fund investments Premiums, or monthly payments, from people who don’t get Part A for free (2021).
The second trust fund is called the Supplementary Medical Insurance fund. It pays for Part B costs such as outpatient care (services that are not overnight hospital care). It also pays for Part D care (prescription medicine).
The money for this fund comes from:
monthly premiums interest earned on trust fund investments.
Typically, everyone enrolled in Part B and/or D pays a premium (Medicare 2021). What are the Parts of Medicare?
Medicare has 4 parts, each represented by letters.
Part A: Inpatient hospital care and some limited home health care, limited nursing home care
Part B: Outpatient care such as doctor’s visits and some limited home health care
Part C: Is also called an advantage plan (MA plan), which allows the government to contract with a private company to deliver Medicare benefits.
Part D: Prescription drug coverage (Bunis 2021).
You can receive Part D benefits in two ways:
A separate drug plan An MA “Part C” plan that includes drug coverage
You have to have Parts A & B to join an MA plan or a separate drug plan. Not all MA plans cover prescription medications (Medicare 2021b).
What is Meant by Part C vs. Original Medicare?
Original Medicare is the traditional way to receive benefits. The government pays a provider directly for services in Parts A and B (Center for Medicare Rights 2021). Most Americans use Original Medicare and most providers accept it.
The other choice is to package benefits together with a Medicare Advantage Plan (MA) which is also called Part C.
You can think of an MA plan (Part C) as a way to combine the parts of Medicare into one plan (Bunis 2020).
Those in an advantage plan still receive the services in Part A & Part B, but may be offered additional services not covered by regular Medicare such as dental benefits (Center for Medicare Rights 2021).
You can also get Part D, drug coverage, through an MA plan, or as a separate benefit (Center for Medicare Rights 2021). Not all Medicare Advantage plans cover drugs.
Most Medicare Advantage plans do have drug coverage, but you might be allowed to join a standalone drug plan if your MA plan does not cover drugs. You cannot join a standalone drug plan if your MA plan already offers prescription coverage (EHealth 2021).
If you have an MA plan, you still pay a premium for Part B (and Part A if you don’t get it for free).
The MA plans have to place a limit on out-of-pocket costs for A & B (Center for Medicare Rights 2021).
Every MA plan is different.
This is a discussion essay on disability pride, models of disability, sparkle sauce and glitter juice.
Why Do We Need to Feel Disability Pride?
Why do we need to feel disability pride at all? Doesn’t that feel slightly masochistic, feeling pride in something that has given us grief in our life? Feel pride over something that essentially “isn’t working” from a mainstream cultural perspective. As a friend said on Facebook, “isn’t it enough that I accept it? Why do I need to feel pride over it?”
“Isn’t it enough that I accept it? Why do I need to feel pride over it?”
Brene Brown wrote in Atlas of The Heart that pride is a feeling of pleasure or celebration related to our accomplishments or efforts. This is authentic pride, it’s positive and can be felt for ourselves and/or others. “I can feel proud of myself, proud of you, proud of us.”
Pride is an emotional response or attitude to something with an intimate connection to oneself, due to its perceived value. Oxford defines it as "the quality of having an excessively high opinion of oneself or one's own importance." Wikipedia
Hubris, on the other hand, is “an inflated sense of one’s own innate abilities that is tied more to the need for dominance than to actual accomplishments.” It’s the negative piece that usually flavors the word, “pride,” and is not actually part of pride at all.
To me, there are two things going on with using “pride” in connection with disability: there is the definition of pride itself and the negative taste it can leave in our mouths. And there is the confusion over feeling like we must feel pride over something that may have simply been something difficult for us in our lives.
The Feelings Associated with Disability
The feelings that we tend to feel growing up with disabilities are shame (feeling flawed, unworthy of love, belonging, connection), guilt (feelings of what we’ve done or failed to do, putting others out, been an inconvenience), humiliation (feeling belittled and put down), and embarrassment (feeling that we’ve done something that has made us uncomfortable, but is a fleeting and relatable experience).
These feelings plug in to the medical model of disability (that disability needs to be fixed), and they make perfect sense when viewed through that lens.
We feel guilt our families have to go out of their ways to accommodate us, guilt that everyone in our class must wait, bored, while the teacher tries to figure out how to enable the closed captions in our Zoom session. We feel shame in who we are when we see ourselves through the lens of the medical model, that we need to be fixed, made “well”, that our edges of our square pegs need to be shaved off to fit in the round holes of the world.
Read: Square Pegs in a Round Peg World The power of the neurodiverse
The Social Model of Disability
The social model of disability, however, sees disability as a natural and normal part of the human experience. From the social model of disability, it’s the culture that we live in that’s the problem, and culture can be changed. Culture is a living expression, it’s fluid, it can transform. Shaving off our square pegs to fit in the round holes of the world, a’la Medical Model of Disability, is a travesty from the viewpoint of the Social Model of Disability, as it removes all juju, the mojo, the good sauce that disability brings with it. It’s like a giant vacuum cleaner hose, sucking up the glitter that also makes up disability.
And make no mistake about it: there IS glitter in disability. There’s sparkle-sauce and awesomeness in the world of disability. Whether or not mainstream culture recognizes it, almost everything that is deeply cool in the world came from someone with a disability. Think about it: we’re the ones who push outside the round pegs of the world – we push past the given consciousness.
This is about developing disability pride. You can listen to me read it by clicking the player below, or subscribing to my podcast on Spotify or iTunes. Patrons can download the pdf for this. Become a Patron! Disability Pride is a Protest When you are continuously told by your culture, language, history, school, work and/or …
The post Pride is a Protest: The Radical Act of Cultivating Disability Pride appeared first on Meriah Nichols.
When Moxie said, "I hate Down syndrome." Talking about disability, hurt, pride, and why pride is so important.
The post “I Hate Down syndrome” appeared first on Meriah Nichols.
This is an opinion post about abortion, Roe vs. Wade, disability and choice. Click the player below to hear me read this. When I was 13, I wrote a report in my Catholic school about abortion. I think it was part of a debate, and of course I was arguing against abortion. I had seen …
The post God Gave Us Choice appeared first on Meriah Nichols.
Get past the first couple of chapters and you'll probably fall in love with it
The post “10 Steps to Nanette: A Memoir Situation” appeared first on Meriah Nichols.
September 4th, 2016 My mom reached out to me while I was sitting in the hot tub on the morning of September 4th, staring at the rust-red wall in front of me without seeing anything. My mom said that the doctors had done another test on Dana and they declared him brain dead. I was …
The post September 4th: Labor Day appeared first on Meriah Nichols.