The Intersections of Disability
Building Stronger Social Movements
Voter Disenfranchisment
Having the right to vote is also thwarted within the LGBTQ community as well with harsh voter ID laws making it more difficult for trans-identifying members of our community being able to cast their ballot, often facing deadnaming or transphobia during their attempts to utilize their state ID, which may not exactly match how they present.
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When we dig a bit further back historically, it also becomes clear how the suffragist movement, which has been known for its discriminatory practices towards Women of Color, was also intentionally keeping those with disabilities from gaining their right to vote.
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As well as questioning the competency of people with mental and physical disabilities, some suffragists coupled their rhetoric with other cultural stereotypes of the era, particularly perceptions related to race and class. Some women asked why Black men, as well as Irish immigrants, were able to cast ballots while they themselves, who they argued were morally and intellectually superior, remained disenfranchised. - Melissa De Witte, "Left Out Of The Vote"
People deemed ‘mentally incompetent’ are still not able to vote, but that is still a poorly defined metric. What does that mean?
Is voting so important that we want to make sure that most
Americans are able to do it because it’s foundational to democracy?
Or do we say that voting is really important so we need to have a really high bar so people should jump through hoops to be able to do it?
Sanford Researchers Mark 19th Amendment Centennial
Stanford University, 2020
Gender & Sexuality Justice
By The Numbers:
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965,350 transgender adults were eligible to vote in the 2020 election
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378,450 voting-eligible transgender people do not have IDs that reflect their correct name and/or gender
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"The Potential Impact of Voter Identification Laws on Transgender Voters in the 2020 General Election"
Body Autonomy
Having authority and being regarded as the sole expert on one's own body is a fundamental aspect of feminism. This perspective, of course, fits right in with Disability Justice frameworks that make the same assertions for disabled people.
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However, when one's own bodily authority is taken away, whether, through assault, rape, discriminatory legislation, or the medical-industrial complex, we must come together to resist as our movements are stronger together.
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Some of the most egregious instances of this happening come from both historical and current perspectives of those receiving OB/GYN care.
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While the Pro-Choice movement has been a focus for many in left-leaning spaces, there seems to often be a lack of discussion around the process of forced sterilization, especially as it relates to people with uteruses, especially those who are also people of color.
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"As many as 70,000 Americans were forcibly sterilized during the 20th century. The victims of state-mandated sterilization included people like Buck who had been labeled "mentally deficient," as well as those who were deaf, blind, and diseased. Minorities, poor people, and "promiscuous" women were often targeted."
- "The Supreme Court Ruling That Led to 70,000 Forced Sterilizations", NPR
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The behavior of OB/GYN practitioners is not all bad, however, as we have been able to move the bar forward on slowly increasing social acceptance and accessibility to gender-affirming care for trans and non-binary people, of course, if they fit the BMI regulations and have access to healthcare - or a lot of cash.
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When I was just about to turn 15, my mom took me to my first gynecologist appointment to discuss why I still why I was having some of the worst potential symptoms of a period - cramps, mood swings, and general lethargy, even though I still had yet to have my first period.
At this point, I was physically behind my peers in getting that onset of hormones that traditionally goes with puberty but things weren't adding up.
After running some tests, it was confirmed that I had Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). A condition that many people with uteruses suffer from, leaving us with awful pain, an imbalance of hormones, and random onsets of other symptoms.
It wasn't late into adulthood that I realized I had no interest in having children, let alone birthing them.
In my earlier twenties, I wasn't sure if the feeling would change, but I knew I would always have an option to adopt.
As I approach the end of my twenties and have built a family with a partner, friends, pets, and an amazing god-son,
I know I don't want children of my own.
Regardless of my unwavering feelings around the subject, however, I have been consistently denied the option to totally remove my uterus or ovaries outright.
I have been told time and time again that "I may change my mind" and that "they can't do anything for me until I'm closer to menopause when I would be 'out of eggs'".
Removing my ovaries would stop the growth of painful cysts, would allow me to medically have more control over the imbalances of hormones, and improve my overall quality of life.
Yet, I have been denied by every medical professional I ask for support on the matter. They don't heed my expertise in my life or my body, at least when
it comes to my reproduction, I am always denied the option of self-control, instead, they offer me birth control that only-kinda works.
It's this type of irony that truly gets me when I think about the ways disabled people and BIPOC communities have experienced control through the use of sterilization.
Violence and Control
In the era of #MeToo, there has been a voice desperately missing from the public narratives, that of LGBTQ survivors who faced assault within our own community. It's something that we as queer folks don't discuss enough ourselves, but we need to shift this norm into an openness about this, as we can't address it without first acknowledging it.
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The data that exists currently around sexual assault of LGBTQ people do not specify the sexuality of the assailant, so we lack a clear understanding of how prevalent this is among our society.
Another group that fails to get the support they deserve around violence is sex workers. Due to the nature of their work, they are often at high risk to experience acts of violence, including sexual assault. In failing to legitimize this industry and recognize it for the social benefit it provides, we stigmatize these workers and their clients' needs. Because of society's bias, they often do not receive support after a crisis from outside groups, for incoming forward they risk facing the carceral system.
It was my second year of college, I was 19 and felt like I was really getting on with my life. Early September, 2012, I hosted a party at my dorm, and by the end of the night I was reeling.
A woman who was friends with my girlfriend, R, of the time was back from year off, so we had just met but she knew my extended circle.She had been hanging out a lot with R and I, listening to some of our issues and 'helping' us talk through conflict.
One day she invites me to hang out while R was busy, we watched two movies, but something felt off for me, like she was flirting, but subtly.
I kept some distance but chose to invite her to my party that evening.
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It took over a month for me to believe fully it was rape, it took learning of her predatory behavior to other lesbians at our school for me to begin to see her as the serial assailant she is.
Our college did little to protect or help victims, I never got justice, and my assault will never be included in the data from that year for violence on campus, because 'it wasn't rape'.
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I faced systemic homophobia while trying to report and receive justice at every turn;
the RA who changed my report from rape to bad, but consensual, sex.
the Deans who asked "but how do lesbians even have sex",
the EMT's laughing at the idea of a 'lesbian rape',
the nurses doing the rape kit triggering me with their language
and getting angry when I asked for a male nurse.
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However, for all that terrorizing I faced, it was the school psychiatrist who changing my medication almost weekly, that really did the absolute most for me, in the worst way.
R and I got into a fight before the party, and she took note - pulling me aside telling me to break up with R. She proceeded to get me drunk, encouraging shots of an unmarked liquor and chugging beers.
As the party wore down she convinced a friend and I of a threesome, but when the time came, she locked them out of my room, saying she was doing this alone.
It was then that she began to violently rape me. She threatened my life and the lives of my friends, if I were to ever tell. She left me with internal scarring for almost a year
from the aggressive way she raped me.
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Care tasks of all kinds are devalued, from housekeepers to home or child or elder or pet care, to in-home health workers.
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However, the labor of sex work and the care that takes place is often an underrepresented field, in part due to the criminal grey area it occupies. But this field should be fully recognized as a legitimate site for representative, inclusive, and comprehensive sexual education, as well as community health.
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For folks facing an economic system that devalues their bodies, labor, and overall humanity, there is a revolutionary aspect to one taking full control of their otherwise exploited body and labor.
It's through autonomous and self-driven sex work that opens the doorway for some to provide services that not only offer personal income but also allow them the liberty to rest when necessary, a critical need for many disabled people.
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However, due to the current illegality of some areas of his work, when sex workers face harassment or assault on the job, they do not have a social safety net to help support them in getting justice. Sex workers deserve labor protections like every other industry.
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Labor Inequality
A particularly disturbing dynamic arises when the assaults are perpetrated by other LGBTQ community members. Denial, misrecognition, and the dismissal of outside-the-community concerns as latent homophobia are examples of responses to sexual assault that occurs between members of the LGBTQ community.
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[S]eeking services or reporting often requires coming out as queer or trans, which raises problems of cultural competency in the medical and social service professions, along with general social stigma.
Finally, as with most disparities, holders of multiple marginalized identities are even more likely to experience sexual violence.
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Due to this reality, some activists who work to support survivors are attempting to move away from a carceral model in deference to the fact that people with marginalized identities are already more likely to be criminalized and imprisoned.
Sexual Assault in the LGBTQ Community, National Center for Lesbian Rights