Sexuality Happens

I am dis/differently abled.  Not every knows this (although I am fairly fucking open about it), as it is not “obvious” as it is with many. I do not use a cane for the visually impaired, nor do I rock out in a wheelchair (as of yet).  While I do have handicap placards in our cars, and sometimes require the use of a cane or walking stick, I am fortunate to usually be able to get by on a drug cocktail and ice packs, thanks to the three surgeries I’ve already have (to say nothing of the four more I need in the near future).

Q is the first partner who has been really good about this.  I have days I cannot get out of bed. She brings me ice packs and painkillers, and lies with me until I fall back asleep, or we watch movies together.  When we’re out, and the pain sets in, she’ll drive my car home for me.  She usually is really good thinking about accessibility, parking, etc.

Until recently, when we both got really stressed due to the move. She chose a beautiful condo for us…but it happens to have five stairs to get down to it.  Now, on a “good” day, that’s not bad. I take it slowly, use the hand rails, and not much to it.  But on a bad day, it seems like having to cross the Grand Canyon, and I almost want to cry just looking at them, either direction.  We had talked about stairs – she told me it was just one or two, and I figured it was the best place, so I was ok with it.  But because of her able bodied privilege, it never occurred to her that the difference between one stair and five was a huge deal.

When we were still in Denver, the night before our move, I had come over for a little. She drove, and we couldn’t find parking at her place. My pain level was high, and I was already on my narcotics, so I asked her if she could drop me off at her building, and I’d wait for her to find parking far away. her answer was that she was too tired, and we both wound up walking a very long distance back to her place.

It was this, and her asking me if I could try to drive 2-3 hour stretches on the way down from Colorado…when I had already explained that my knees tended to seize up after an hour or ninety minutes, and would need a rest break.  Not only painful, but pure and simply dangerous.

Now, we’ve talked about this since then. And things are better. None of this makes Q a bad person or less amazing partner, not at all.  But it is so important to recognize our privilege. We talk about white privilege, and hetero privilege, and class privilege, but we rarely talk about able bodies priviledge.  And if someone who is usually so good about checking in with me (see if bondage is hurting my knees, going to get me a drink at the dungeon so I can put my legs up, etc) gets stressed and suddenly forgets about the privilege part, then we all can. I know I forget about much of my privilege at times. It’s not something to beat ourselves up about, but rather, to look at, and think about, and see how we can change our actions to account for said privilege.

And last night, we came home, and she got me ice packs and water for my pills, and just cuddled with me in bed until the drugs kicked in. If she isn’t just the most amazing partner, I can’t image what would make her any better.

-Essin’ Em