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nov ember 19.1999
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f you were hit by a truck
tomorrow and became dis
abled, what support system
would you have? One thing
is certain: Life as an indepen
dent lesbian, gay, bi or trans
individual would change drasti
cally, because many of the
events and venues you may now
enjoy would become off-limits,
inaccessible.
Improvements mandated by
the Americans with Disabilities
Act notwithstanding, many small
businesses cannot afford to provide
universal access. And how many of
your friends’ homes would you be
able to visit if you were confined to a
wheelchair? These realities often iso
late disabled queers from the rest of
the community.
The new anthology Restricted Access: Les
bians on Disability could go a long way toward
breaking down isolation within the community
for those of us who are disabled, and also edu
cate able-bodied people about our experiences.
Disability can be a natural and often inevitable
part of life. Aging happens to all of us, which is
why the compassion generated by this book is
so important to building a bridge between the
able and less-able factions of the queer commu
nity.
The book contains over 30 essays, all writ
ten by lesbians with various disabilities. It
opens with an inspiring update on Karen
Thompson and Sharon Kolwaski, who was dis
abled in the early ’80s. Thompson spent many
years fighting for legal custody of her partner.
They have found an unusual solution to their
I
Reality reviews
check
two new books
Just Out
on disability in the queer community
various challenges
that includes
another lesbian
who lives with
them as part of
their family.
Their story
provides a use
ful model of
what can be
accomplished
with gritty determination.
Other essays offer insights into the life of a
blind, deaf or disabled community member, as
well as women dealing with chronic illnesses.
Especially forthright is the Lizard Jones piece
“From Each...to Each” about a lesbian diag
nosed with multiple sclerosis. Jones challenges
the “cult of self-sufficiency” in our community.
Victoria Brownworth’s thoughtful essay on
assisted suicide, “Who Chooses? The Debate
over Eugenics and Euthanasia,” should spark a
much-needed discussion about assisted suicide
within the gay, lesbian, bi and trans communi
ties. Her well-reasoned, feminist perspective on
both assisted suicide and abortion cuts through
simplistic ideas about personal choice in a
profit-driven medical system.
Mental health disabilities are also discussed.
“Panic Attack” challenges easy alternative ther
apy approaches that categorically write off psy
chiatric drugs. “The Madwoman of off our
backs ” by Carol Anne Douglas could help peo
ple truly support friends with mental disabilities.
H i is valuable book raises questions and
issues often ignored by progressive activist
movements that demand radical independence.
It begins by asking: How do we as a society
care for our most vulnerable members? By the
end of the book, we have new ideas to contem
plate.
— Ellen Greenlaw
■ R estricted A ccess edited by Victoria A.
Brownworth and Susan Raffo. Seal Press, 1999;
$16.95 paper.
E llen G reenlaw is a disability- and lesbian-
rights activist, as well as an herbalist.She recom
mends the Disability, Desire and Sex Group that
meets sporadically at the Lesbian Community Pro
ject offices. Call (503) 233-3913 for details.
F
or a highly personal, more in-depth
approach to the subject of disability, pick up
Exile and Pride — Disability, Queemess and
Liberation by Eli Clare. Although a somewhat
meandering memoir, it has special relevance
because the author grew up amid the old-
growth forests near Port Orford, Ore. Her sharp
memories of the coastal logging community
and high reverence for the land should res
onate with many readers.
With the voice of a poet, Clare recounts a
classic childhood of abuse and isolation in her
rural community. A college scholarship is her
ticket out, and she eventually settles in Ann
Arbor, Mich. Yet the lure of the Pacific North
west is alive in her bones as she struggles to
make peace with her longing for home and a
need to be safe and live in a larger queer com
munity.
With brave precision she cuts to the quick
of her life: “Home starts here in my body, in all
the lies embedded beneath my skin. My dis
abled body: bom prematurely in the backwoods
of Oregon, I was first diagnosed as ‘mentally
retarded,’ and then later as having cerebral
palsy. I grew up to the words cripple, retard,
monkey, defect, took all the staring into me and
learned to shut it out.”
Clare writes insightfully about her self-
image as a self-described freak and her experi
ences as a young dyke with gender identity
questions. She also challenges the more able-
bodied among us to distinguish between dis
ability and inability.
This slim book is also a meditation on the
language of disability and how euphemisms are
often employed to cushion more able-bodied
people from harsh realities. Clare also con
fronts the common image of disabled people as
asexual and laments the loss of herself as a sex
ual being.
This is a powerful exploration of what it
means to be queer and disabled and ripped
apart by things beyond one’s control. It is
impossible to read without thinking the
unthinkable— what if this were my reality?
— Oriana Green
a n d P ride by Eli Clare. South End
Press, 1999; $14 paper.
■ E xile
Different Drivers. Different Roads. One Car.