They Call Me Resilient

UK Disability History Month (and a Juicy News Teaser)

Hello dear readers,

For the last few weeks, I’ve been a bit trapped. The Housing Association put up scaffolding to do some exterior work – a guaranteed method of attracting rain and, actually, snow last week. All of which meant the work dragged on. I tried not to dwell on my accidental imprisonment, or thoughts of fire risk.

The scaffolding scared away some of my birds, particularly my gorgeous collared doves, and enclosed me in a strange half shadow. There were also the moments when the scaffolding men – and they all were men – traipsed about whistling, sometimes singing and occasionally cursing. It made me laugh, and fed my writer’s brain well. Still, I’m glad it’s now gone, and I can once again see the brief, bright winter skies and enjoy the south coast’s magnificent sunsets now on the odd dry day again.

I’m still a happy hermit most of the time, and have almost finished another substantial piece of work. A novella, probably – who knows? It’s still early days, but I’m pleased with my progress and, at this point, love practising what in TV land could be called ‘log lines’, a great playful technique for really boiling down what your story is about to the undiluted heart of it. Here’s one for my memoir, First in the World Somewhere: A rebellious yet shy young disabled woman escapes small-town isolation for London’s ‘80s indie underground, where she discovers her voice – and the radical power of words, music, sex, and activism.

Yes, Health…

There were further grumbling frustrations this month with health, though I had some great support from beautiful NHS staff at ground level, even while they shared their despair at how systems and government continue to attack. I’ve read the latest news announcements that, this winter, the NHS is going to be under the worst pressure ever. This is one reason I have all vaccinations that are available to me as an immunocompromised person. I’m still here. Nothing has happened. Truthfully, I didn’t even feel the jabs. No conspiracy.

Juicy News and UK Disability History Month

There is some juicy, and exciting, writing news on the way but I can’t share yet. Meanwhile, let’s not forget that 20th Nov-20th Dec is UK Disability History Month! On 17th December, myself and my friend and collaborator, Theresa Hodge, will be hosting an event at Hastings Museum and Art Gallery, to bring the local disabled community together, to talk, share and moan! I might even squeeze in the odd reading of a poem or two.

I often get asked ‘why do we need disability history month? What’s it for?’ This reflects the wearisome concept that disability is something to be ‘cured’, rather than something embedded within human experience. One day, we may live in a society that does not keep creating barriers and, but alas we are a long way from that. For a start, war won’t stop – need I say more? Direct violence damages the fragile individual human frame, creating yet more instances of physical impairment, and arguably more instances of unseen impairment, such as severe psychological trauma. When you bring this together with societies full of hard in-your-face barriers –that is disability. Of course we need to bear witness to it. Tell the stories. You can rely on me to do so.

I’m proud to celebrate this part of my identity and that’s what we can do in disability history month. I look to people like Frida Kahlo, who inspires me to obsession.

We are history, we are future, we are present, and always will be. Disabled, disabled, disabled. Visible or invisible, defined how you choose.

They Call Me Resilient (Maybe it’s Defiant)

Others often tell me my middle name is ‘resilient’. I’m also known for my optimism, which I inherited from my mother. The sort where you just keep going. This is what I’m doing at the moment, and I will enjoy sharing stories throughout our month and highlighting our battles and successes on our International Day (3rd December).

What are you going to do, whether a disabled person or an ally? Do at least share my Substack, celebrate disabled people within your own community and family. It’s the least inclusive club of any. We do the ground work, ready for you and yours tomorrow, as we always have done.

As the season increases towards festive, dear readers, I ask for your ongoing patronage as a midwinter gift. Whether it’s a one-off paid subscription, or even a single Ko-fi, all is deeply appreciated, and, of course, shares are most welcome. Look out for other news very shortly.

With love from the breezy darkening coast,

Penny