Bridging the Divide: An open letter to our disabled and mad communities

Dear beautiful Disabled communities

Dear beautiful Mad communities

This is a letter to you all.

Why are we so far apart from each other?

Why don’t we talk?

Why aren’t we working together?

It seems to me that we are focused more on what differentiates us, than what we have in common.

We have a lot of shared history.

They locked us all away. Many of us are still there.

We’ve all been fighting for our Rights for such a long, long time.

We all have trauma.

We want many of the same things.

Work, housing, food, healthcare, education, a sense of purpose, fun, love.

A society where we are not only welcome but can hold our heads high and be our true selves and show the world what we bring, not what we cost.

The stigma against us is part of what divides us. And it makes sense. Why, when we already have so many labels why would we want to add more?

Yup, I’m Disabled. Things are hard. I don’t need to add “crazy” to that.

Yup, I’m Mad. Things are hard. But I’m not “disabled”.

We’ve adopted the language of our oppressors.

But here’s the truth. We are all just people.

People trying to make it through, every day.

Many Disabled people (and yes, that’s said with a capital ‘D’ as used by many in the disability community, as a sense of identity and pride) experience mental health and addiction issues, although our mental health and addiction services are not built for them and they struggle to get access.

It’s a fight we in Mad communities (and yes, that’s said with a capital M), know all too well.

But here’s the secret.

We are all part of the larger disability rights movement, whether you are comfortable with the language or not.

If you feel yourself pulling away from the idea – ask yourself why?

It’s Ableism at it’s finest.

Do me a favour. Look up the social model of disability.

We are disabled not by our minds and our bodies, but by our inaccessible and unwelcoming societies.

And we are all missing out by not acknowledging our shared struggles.

By not learning from each other and our equally incredible histories of self-advocacy and protest.

By not realising we have an incredible tool in our shared kete – the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities – which covers us all*

By not backing each other and fighting for each other’s struggles we are all of us, weaker.

Divide and rule. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.

I feel like I sit at the crossroads of these two most beautiful communities. I want us to come together. Work together. Realise we are one big, beautiful whole, with lots of amazing communities amongst us.

Does that mean we need to start giving ourselves more labels? No way.

Use the language you want for yourself.

Does that mean we have to lose what makes our communities awesome and unique? Of course not.

We can and should continue to celebrate our differences.

But should we be working together to bring about change?

Abso-flamin-lutely.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.

Ngā manaakitanga,
Lex

*The UNCRPD doesn’t mention people who have experienced harm from addiction, but they are our brothers and sisters, and we refuse to leave them behind.