I'd known her name for a while, but I felt moved to write to her personally after I read her essay about how the brain injury community doesn't seem interested in crip culture, in the "Criptiques" anthology. I wanted to wave my hand around and say "I am! I'm interested and I have a brain injury!"So I emailed her.
(My brain injury didn't come from the trauma that we normally associate with brain injury, but there *was* someone rooting around in my head for fourteen hours, and my brain did react by bleeding into some places where blood really doesn't belong, so yeah...)
I thought that she'd get what I was saying. And she did. We've had some great conversations - she really *gets* this stuff. She not only makes me feel like I'm on the right track with what I'm writing, but also gets me to see things in ways that I hadn't even considered. When she interviewed me for her podcast, I felt like I was talking to an old friend.
I wrote to process becoming disabled, and later to start advocating for myself and other disabled people. Cheryl writes as well, but she also makes films. She's got a new film in the works right now called "Who Am I To Stop It". I'm going to let her tell you about it in her own words!
Oh, by the way...on November 14, I'm going to be a guest host on another podcast with another disability advocate for whom I have a great deal of respect. I'll be a Guest Host on Disability.TV with Andrew Pulrang, and we'll be discussing disability in "The Big Bang Theory" (one of my favourite shows!) Visit Andrew's blog to get details on his podcast and the other television shows that he'll be discussing.
Cheryl Green Talks About "Who Am I To Stop It"
My story has a lot in common with Sarah’s. I grew up non-disabled. Years ago, I got involved in a disability storytelling project through VSA Texas. Although I was an Intern and Assistant, I became genuine friends with several people in the group. It was then that I realized the extent of segregation I’ve always seen in my community but never stopped to recognize.
How was it that I, in my late 20s then, had never had more than one or two friends with disabilities?
I had grown up with the idea that people in Special Education are “those people,” and the rest of us are regular. I had bought it hook, line, and sinker and done nothing to counter it. I didn’t see disability as a cultural group, an identity, or set of life experiences to be valued.
When the storytellers at VSA Texas took the stage and shared their stories, I had the pleasure of realizing that the sense of divide I finally could name was manufactured, and I wasn’t interested in silently condoning that divide anymore.
I stayed involved in disability art and moved from Assistant backstage to performer in mixed abilities settings. Along with ongoing friendships, I decided to go into a disability service career. When I made the decision, I still did not recognize the depth of stigma and devaluation of culture that happened in the service field. Although I now had several good friends who were disabled, I had not fully learned the depth of discrimination and oppression they faced constantly. Then, the learning came to me.
In 2010, years of accumulating mild traumatic brain injuries had finally caught up to me. I had always bounced back from them. Eventually. Changed, but good enough. Not anymore. The 2010 incident was worse than any I’d experienced in the prior 25 years of being a clumsy athlete. Life, career, even standing up straight all went on hold. I was thrust into a surreal world of fouled up cognitive and sensory processing that was nearly impossible to explain to someone who hadn’t been there. I quickly began to unfold the many layers of disability experience that include impairment and discrimination.
So I made a film that showed people how confusing my life had become. Then, I made another. Though still changed, I began to feel like myself. Or rather, I felt like I had a decent self. I asked myself whether other people who experienced disability from traumatic brain injuries (of any severity) might also turn to art to feel like they have a grounded sense of self. Turns out, there are a lot of people who do. A lot.
In September, 2014, I completed a feature-length documentary on three artists with brain injuries in the U.S. Pacific Northwest called “Who Am I To Stop It.” We are running a Kickstarter campaign online through October 31st to raise the funds for editing, color correction, sound sweetening, and developing disability access through Captions and Audio Description.
This film takes a very unique approach to brain injury documentary in that there are no stories of how people got their injuries, no medical professionals describing how the brain works, and no extended interviews. We took our film inspiration from the highly artistic, compassionate documentary “Marwencol,” with a primary difference being that one of the directors (me) has experienced disability from brain injury.
Please visit our Kickstarter campaign to see some clips from “Who Am I To Stop It.” Kickstarter is all-or-nothing funding. So we have to meet, or exceed, our goal to keep any of the money already pledged! I give my humble thanks for folks visiting the Kickstarter, donating if you are able to, and sharing the link with your communities.