Since April 11th I have been waiting, wishing hoping to reclaim my "disabled" identity back from the government who denied me it. Stuck in a parallel world, stuck in the gap of being before, not being currently but hoping to be again. Certainly in the governments eyes, because it means power, status and most importantly an income.
Still living that disabled identity everyday, being consciously aware of the barriers that grow bigger every day as a result of the denial of my identity, status, power and money. Not having the energy to fight them, even though I know if I don't fight now, the fight to reclaim will be harder once I have won. Which I will.
But I have to keep reminding myself of that fact. Looking over my various pieces of medical evidence which prove my disabled identity, but only the medical shadow, the mere footprint of its existence of its occupation of my whole self, not painting the whole picture. Not that the government want the whole picture, they are only interested in the deficit, the can't do, the poor little disabled person identity.
But the whole can't function without the shadow. The darkness and the light need to co-exist together. I need to have the shadow, the footprint to exist, even if just to fight against. To compete against. In order to be a Disabled Person, I must first be considered disabled.
Yesterday, as I simply entered a room I could feel the accelerated thud of my disabled academic identity flooding my body, and the thrill of this feeling invigorated me. I became alive again, or at least another identity reawakened within me and started thinking, making connections and engaging with rich and emotional discourse that touched my very soul and made it dance.
As I stepped out of the room at the end of the day and back on the train with my husband beside me, the energy disappeared from my body, the disabled identity reappearing as I lay shrivelled in my seat for the return home.
Today, as I sat in another room I became once again the disabled student. Discussing my barriers in context to study once again reminded me of the journey I had been on with that identity and how it had moudled and changed my very essence, giving rise to other, powerful identities of Disabled Person and Disabled Activist. I became excited to re visit and work with that identity in the coming months.
Tonight, as my daughter turned towards me, closed her eyes and wriggled her tired body as closely as she could into mine I became reminded of one of the most powerful and emotional identities I have, that of being a Mother.
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