That way of measuring things—which I also share—is internalized disablism at its most pernicious. Being “disabled” means we’re broken, so by definition what we produce isn’t worthwhile.

I deal with CFIDS, mental health issues, and a herd of miscellaneous impairments. I got sick in the first place by working too hard. After the first 18 months in bed I crawled out and hurled myself at community level organizing around transportation issues for a decade. While I did accomplish some good things, I also pushed myself into mental overload. Now I’m struggling to find that equilibrium at a new, lower, level.

I’ve discovered that even weekly blogging is too much for me right now. I wish I believed in the power of prayer
.-= Jesse the K´s last blog ..Delightful New Resources =-.

To address your discussion questions a little, I definitely still have a hierarchy of “real” activism in my brain, with, I dunno, lobbying and talking with politicians being at the top, then rallies and marches and attending activist meetings, then activism-”lite” of letter writing down low, and bloggging being somewhere stuck in the muck on the bottom. Basically, everything “above” what I do is real, acceptable activism, and what I do isn’t.

I recognize how messed up this is. And how insulting to others’ work, to which this scale doesn’t really count, because I’m not that far gone. It’s apparently only another way for me to make sure I know I fail to measure up.

Like I said, messed up. :-/ I blame the kyriarchy, of course.
.-= Arwyn´s last blog ..Why I say I’m OK =-.

This is so true. It reminds me of that New Yorker Cartoon, “On the Internet, No One Knows You’re A Dog.” It’s very interesting to see that many able bodied people assume that bloggers are like them, and that they are often unsettled when evidence to the contrary is presented.

I think, part of this has to do with the attitude of the traditional media towards blogging in general.

Also, when allies first read bloggers with disabilities, since our blogging looks like their blogging (on a superficial level, an odd kind of ‘passing,’?)

When they realize we’re PWD’s they get uncomfortable and feel they were ‘fooled’ because, hey, we can actually write. As our labor of love, as you’ve so marvelously put it.

I know I’ve given up entirely on affecting change on a national level, and have started focusing my efforts on small, local issues, such as the infamous “just one step” and speaking out at women-focused events on disability. I think it’s the same frustration you’re talking about.

Hi Icy bear! I’m very flattered that you like this post and are commenting on it, and not just because of your lovely comment. When I was part way through writing the original version of this post back in August, I was having a look around the Feministing community page and happened upon your fantastic post, Activism and Ableism. It was so good to see someone else thinking along the same lines. If you end up writing that follow up post, would you please let me know?

I think there’s also something patriarchal in the assumption that the only change worth making is world-altering, huge political breakthroughs – I can’t quite figure out how to put this, but it seems to fit into the whole Enlightenment paradigm / myth of progress thing, that the only change worth making is clearly measurable by objective criteria (as in, a certain bill passing), and privileging changing external conditions over changing yourself and the way you interact with the world… Not of course that such activism isn’t necessary, but that thinking of it as the ONLY legitimate form of activism has patriarchal and perhaps colonialist connotations as well as ableist and classist ones.

The connections are still rather fuzzy in my mind, but I will be thinking about this.

Also, this writing, this activism, right here? This is work.

I hate it when people say to me “you sit on your ass and don’t work”.

This is work. It is a labor of love, if nothing else.

Thanks, Chally. Awesome. Original meaning.