On this Transgender Day of Remembrance

On this Transgender Day of Remembrance, I consider the intersections between the disabled and trans community.* I think about how we both hold days of mourning and remembrance for our murdered brethren. I think about how so many of us are disabled and trans. I wonder if any of the names are the same on the collective lists of the dead.

I think about how this is one of the first times I openly am writing a piece about trans rights... despite the fact that I am multiply disabled and agender (thus trans) and queer. Maybe because it's scary to be so many identities at once. Maybe because the environments surrounding us are so toxic...

On this Transgender Day of Remembrance, I let myself be trans (usually I worry – am I trans *enough?*) I let the heartstrings flow and I let the feelings grow. I am autistic, with other disabilities. I am trans. I am queer. Maybe it's time I let this community become my own, too.

So I can remember and mourn with the rest of you.

I mourn. 

I read the names on the TDOR site, so many of them trans women of color, with the same shaky feeling that I got reading the list of the disabled and murdered people at the disability day of mourning. I am, I am, I am trans, I read the list of people that can carry on no more so activists carry on for them and fight. It is in my hopes and dreams that both lists start to get shorter.

For now, I mourn. 

---

*This is not to say that other intersections do not exist, of course. Especially since so many of the murdered are trans women of color. 

Dressing While Disabled (And Agender)

#DressingWhileDisabled (And Agender)

**

I hop. And fall into a chair. My dyspraxia is not good for full body movements in contained areas. I try to tug on the socks. I have to go sit on my bed.

**

I have weak ankles, and I don't want to try wearing heels, I say.

Fair enough, the friend responds.

I do have weak ankles. I sprained each one twice before I was 12 years old, running around and climbing things like the autistic kids you see in the alarmist documentaries (well, because I'm autistic. I did things like that. Unsurprisingly, I was like a lot of the autistic kids you see in the alarmist documentaries or the parents insisting us activists are too high functioning to understand).

But I also don't say: I don't think I could balance. I think I'd fall. I'd embarrass myself.

**

Recently, I've undone enough of my internalized fear of dressing nicely or fashionably-ish because that's how the people who bullied me in middle school and high school dressed like, and also undone the notion that to be nonbinary and agender, you can't wear gendered clothes.

I used to say that, as I walked around in “guy” jeans.

I tried on a dress in Target yesterday, because it felt sensory friendly and floaty. I realized this after wearing a nightshirt for the first time.

**

But I lack the executive functioning to remember how to fashion myself appropriately. I fall down over my shoelaces because I lack the coordination to tie them effectively, or forget to even try. I cannot remember to go buy the clothes. It took an entire winter to realize I didn't have enough long pants, and that's why I needed to do laundry so often.

Which, by the way, is hard. Laundry is hard.

I emailed my mother. I need sweatpants. Can you take me to Target?

We went to Target and bought sweatpants.

**

Sometimes, it's not an Autistic thing. I have anxiety and various mood things. It can be hard to roll out of bed and put on clothes effectively, or brush my hair, or tie my shoes, as I bump into a chair and swear groggily.

**

I am Autistic, and dressing while disabled can involve so many steps I forget to do all of them.

I don't mind, to be honest.