Cripping Quarantine: Corona Virus, Disability, and Mental Health

Content Warning for mentions of mental health and abuse

Image Description: The words "STAY HOME" written seven times in shades of green, purple, red, and yellow on a pale mint background
Image Description: The words “STAY HOME” written seven times in shades of green, purple, red, and yellow on a pale mint background

I have been in self isolation since March 16, I have only gone out twice since then and those trips were unavoidable to collect prescriptions. On March 16th, I woke up early because I knew that more serious restrictions due to the coronavirus were likely about to come into effect soon and I wanted to make certain that I had enough of my medications to hopefully weather a lengthy stay indoors so I was going to my local doctor’s office. I have preexisting conditions that may put me at higher risk for a severe COVID-19 infection. Those same preexisting conditions also put me at risk of potentially being denied life saving care in the event that I need a respirator.

I as a mad, physically disabled, autistic person may not meet the standards of the often terrifying triage that is taking place in areas where hospitals are struggling to meet the needs of too many patients with too few resources.

Better if I just don’t leave my apartment, my doctor agrees.

March 16th it turns out was the day everything was going to start shutting down, including the medical clinic I had just arrived at. The staff had apparently received word overnight that they should no longer see patients on site and start figuring out how to set up appointments over video chat.

As I and about a dozen other people waited outside the unexpectedly closed clinic for word from the staff inside, we tried to keep 6 feet apart. Ultimately, the doctors decked out in plastic scrubs, gloves, and face masks decided to see patients while only allowing us into the clinic two at a time.

My doctor renewed my two regular anti-anxiety medications and also wrote me a third prescription for Lorazepam to be taken as needed just in case. While I did not question the additional prescription I rather cockily assumed that I would be fine with my regular regiment of meds. I’d been doing very well up to that point hadn’t I?

It only took a few hours for some very severe anxiety to kick in as I realized that maintaining access to food was going to be difficult. The demand on delivery services which prior to the outbreak had never been a problem was suddenly very difficult. This in turn created a lot of financial anxiety as I realized that if I was going to get enough to eat during quarantine, I would be spending more on service fees as what orders I could get through showed up with less than half my requested items. Since then even getting a delivery slot has often been impossible. I may end up having to rely on takeout delivery which is much more accessible but also far more expensive.

I have been grateful for my doctor’s consideration that I might be put under even more stress and her efforts to lesson that burden repeatedly.

At the start of all this none of the emergency assistance measures had been put in place so the financial concerns were particularly stressful. Since the implementation of the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) and other form of financial assistance, some of those concerns have been alleviated but because the criteria for eligibility is ever changing and because all applications are being approved, the stress has just been put off for a later date. I now have to worry about having this money clawed back next tax season when I will most definitely no longer have it. I’m pretty sure I qualify but there is always that doubt lingering in the back of my mind.

Aside from the stress caused by figuring out how to survive in a changed world, I have also found myself succumbing to some of the symptoms of the shared trauma of this pandemic. For the first couple of weeks I tried to remain active and productive. I exercised as much as possible in the confines of my apartment, I tried to diligently work on my comprehensive exams. I ultimately succumbed to terrible emotional exhaustion which was made worse by the almost nightly vivid nightmares.

I have more recently slowed down significantly. I spend much of my time reading novels while only getting minimal work done. While I am not making great gains on my comprehensive exams, my stress level is much lower and I am sleeping better.

Please give yourselves permission to just give up expectations, it’s the best advice I can give you in this situation.

One of the things that I and several of my disabled friends have noticed during this time is that with the while world isolating, it brings the extent of our own isolation in general into sharp focus. It’s not normal to be a recluse when everyone is doing it.

To make matter worse, I haven’t been able to stay as reclusive as I’d like to. Two weeks ago, my estranged mother with whom I have not spoken for nearly two years decided to use the pandemic and my mental health history to try and force contact. She did this by calling York Campus Security on me. I have no idea what she told them. All I know is that one minute I was contentedly watching YouTube videos and the next I was answering the door of my apartment to two security guards because “a family member (my mother) had called and expressed concern for me”.

They seemed quite surprised that I was up and dressed and was not displaying any characteristics of either illness or distress. They even asked me to show them my student card so they could verify that they were speaking to the right person. While they were apologetic, it did not stop them from informing the university that I had been subjected to a wellness check. Based on the email I got from them it is clear that they did not explain that the check had been unnecessary. I also told them that I was not in contact with my family and had not been since well before the current global crisis started. I have no faith however that a security service that would subject someone to medical overreach my the university would have had the decency not to call my mother back after her interference and “concern” proved to be unfounded.

It is important to remember that abuse is actually more common now even for those of us who have put over 1000 miles between ourselves and our abusers.

That episode took me days to recover from and the university has no interest in recognizing that they have acted as a proxy for an abuser twice now.

In the midst of all this stress and coping, the one new thing that I have been working on is finally figuring out how to do my own makeup. Here is a picture of me trying to be goth

View this post on Instagram

#wednesdayaddams with better white balance

A post shared by Kim Sauder (@kimberleysauder) on

Image Desrcription: A pale woman with dark lipstick stands against a woodgrain wall. The shot is from below giving the impression that she might be lying down. She is wearing a dress reminiscent of Wednesday Addams

You can see some of my other attempts on my Instagram but be forewarned, I am not good at selfies or Instagram.

This pandemic has been hard on all of us but it has been an additional burden on disabled people as the response has not meaningfully considered our needs. People receiving disability benefits are largely not receiving further aid despite CERB being higher than disability payments. We are also a population that already relied on grocery delivery and nothing has been put in place to ensure that we maintain access to those services. Many of us do not have the option to even choose to risk our health and pop to the store. Shopping was already inaccessible to us.

This is such a stressful time and I am making my way through it, the best that I can. I hope that better policies are coming for disabled people but I’m also not holding my breath.

How to Support Me and My Work

The outbreak of COVID-19 has created a lot of financial precarity for me, so I would really appreciate any assistance you are able to offer

Please if you are able help the most vulnerable in your communities by practicing social distancing responsibly and by not hoarding resources.

I personally am experiencing financial difficulties as a result of Covid-19 and would appreciate any assistance you can offer, even if it’s just to share this blog post.

If you are able please consider helping me financially during this time. My situation is quite precarious.

You can support me on Patreon

Become a Patron!

You can buy me a coffee

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Or send me money directly through Paypal

paypal.me/crippledscholar

Crip Camp: It is Necessary and Important

Image Description: Poster for the Netflix Documentary Crip Camp. The Title is in white in the upper left corner. In the background are  white buildings in the foreground a shirtless black man leans a guitar over his right shoulder while pushing a white young man wearing trousers and a white shirt in his wheelchair
Image Description: Poster for the Netflix Documentary Crip Camp. The Title is in white in the upper left corner. In the background are white buildings in the foreground a shirtless black man leans a guitar over his right shoulder while pushing a white young man wearing trousers and a white shirt in his wheelchair

Near the beginning of the film Crip Camp which premiered today on Netflix, a girl named Valerie sees that she is being filmed and asks “Is this necessary? Is this important?” The answer is of course, yes this was very important.

I am so grateful for this film. It is absolutely unrepentant for disabled people.

The film covers the birth of the American disability rights movement which is traced back to Camp Jened, a camp for disabled people run as the film puts it by “hippies” from the 1950s to the 1970s. The film then shows how ideas and relationships created at Camp Jened resulted in civil disobedience like the 504 sit in which paved the way for more accessibility and laid the groundwork for the ADA.


Fighting for the AdA of course took significant activism and throughout all the time that disabled people in the United States were fighting for legal improvements to better their quality of life, you will find people who met at Camp Jened and who stayed connected and who organized for change.

Throughout the film many of the voices we hear discuss how they grew into their disabled identities and learned to reject the discriminatory attitudes that they faced and also reject the internalized ableism that they had learned growing up being the only disabled people in their communities.

Image description: a poster with a black background. It has the words challenged, handicapped, handi-capable, differently abled, divers-abled, special needs in white followed by red X’s beneath in a larger font is the word Disabled followed by a red check mark.
This poster is designed by Amythest Schaber and can be ordered here

It is through finding community that these people who improved the lives of so many others were able to do so.

This is very much a film about disability and disabled people. If the title Crip Camp wasn’t enough of a hint.

It was so powerful to watch. I finished it feeling sad that I never had the opportunity to go to Camp Jened and be part of the amazing burgeoning of the disability rights movement. Unfortunately, not everyone got the point of Crip Camp.

It is always a precarious situation when nondisabled people begin sharing their understandings of disability stories. In a film where several people clearly rejected the idea of overcoming disability as toxic and damaging, reviewer, Peter Debruge concluded this as the takeaway from the film.

In the end, “Crip Camp” isn’t about disability so much as the incredible ability this community showed, overcoming physical barriers and personal discomfort in order to be taken seriously. But that doesn’t mean the movie has to be 100% serious, and LeBrecht and company recognize that a little irreverence makes the journey that much more universal.

I cannot stress enough thhat while there is a lot of joy and triumph in the film, they did not however overcome physical barriers. They demanded that those physical barriers be removed. It’s like Debruge doesn’t even know what the 504 sit in accomplished. Did he even watch the movie?

I must be acknowledged that Debruge has a history of writing badly about disability. In his review of the controversial Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot, he initially included this passage,

Text Reads: In the interest of full disclosure, allow me to confess: I’m a sucker for quadriplegic movies. Didn’t put it together until “Don’t Worry” really started to jive (which happens right about the moment Van Sant reveals the cause of Callahan’s injury), but there’s something about seeing real people contend with such extreme disability that gets me nearly every time. Whether they’ve been crippled since birth (a la “The Sessions”) or later in life (“The Sea Inside,” “The Theory of Everything”), their stories have a way of reminding us what really matters. Add to that the circle of support severely handicapped individuals require, and I’m in rapture, for there is nothing more beautiful in all of cinema — nothing — than genuine caregiving.

This section was swiftly criticized and summarily removed without acknowledgement that changes had been made. The review didn’t exactly improve much with the omission. It arill includes passages like this,

their stories have a way of reminding able-bodied people what they take for granted, while serving to bridge the perception of difference and discomfort that no doubt contributes to an under-representation of handicapped characters in general. In Callahan’s case, his alcoholism indirectly caused his injury, and the circle of sincere human support that gathers around him — both for overcoming his addiction and adapting to his condition — is so beautiful as to justify the controversy of its casting.

So it is certain that at the very least Peter Debruge as learned nothing. It is important to watch how important films like Crip Camp are received my nondisabled audiences. The oppressor has an infinite capacity to simply ignore the story as it is intended to be told.

John Callahan (the man profiled in Don’t Worry) never set out to inspire nondisabled people. He was more the kind of guy to tell them to Fuck, Off.

Crip Camp is a documentary about the amazing and grueling work disabled people have had to put in to be seen as human beings just as they are. Not the pseudo-humanity that is inferred by narratives of overcoming.

Crip Camp is an absolute much watch. I would also ask you to seek out opinions and reviews written by disabled people. These will help you broaden your understanding of the film and the barriers we continue to face.

Oh, did I mention, one summer at Camp Jened, there was an outbreak of crabs so the disability rights movement was born out of a bunch of horny teenagers. Which is clearly amazing.

Go watch the movie people.

How to Support Me and My Work

The outbreak of COVID-19 has created a lot of financial precarity for me, so I would really appreciate any assistance you are able to offer

Please if you are able help the most vulnerable in your communities by practicing social distancing responsibly and by not hoarding resources.

I personally am experiencing financial difficulties as a result of Covid-19 and would appreciate any assistance you can offer, even if it’s just to share this blog post.

If you are able please consider helping me financially during this time. My situation is quite precarious.

You can support me on Patreon

Become a Patron!

You can buy me a coffee

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Or send me money directly through Paypal

paypal.me/crippledscholar

March has Been a Bad Month for Disabled People

Image Description: Me, a pale blonde woman wearing a plaid dress and cream coloured sweater standing at a podium, reading names off of a list for the Disability Day of Mourning
Image Description: Me, a pale blonde woman wearing a plaid dress and cream coloured sweater standing at a podium, reading names off of a list for the Disability Day of Mourning

On Sunday March 1, I attended the Disability Day of Mourning Service which commemorates the disabled people who have been murdered by parents or caregivers. Attending this year has taken on further meaning as the world grapples with the pandemic of the novel corona virus. Much of the world is in turmoil right now and far to often disabled people are bearing the brunt of negative experiences and expectations.

The virus has gotten so bad that the entire country of Italy is in lock down. The number of people experiencing severe symptoms exceeds the Italian healthcare system’s capacity to effectively treat them all. The country has had to start implementing catastrophe triage. Essentially choosing who will have a chance to live and who will almost certainly die.

Those most at risk of death or serious symptoms are unsurprisingly disabled people, people with compromised immune systems, and the elderly. We are facing a period of human history where many people may die and that the most like casualties will be marginalized people. Catastrophe triage will not act kindly for us. If it comes to that.

Illness is not however, the only serious risk to disabled people at this time. With the instruction to move indoors and to practice social distancing. Many otherwise healthy and able people are turning to delivery services to obtain essentials, while others are participating in panic buying which limits availability of necessary items.

Disabled people often rely on delivery services and our access to them is being seriously curtailed. I am at risk for serious food insecurity for the first time in my life and it is because predominantly healthy and able people are dominating services that I and other disabled people rely on.

I managed to get a delivery window for this evening. It has already been postponed to even later. I don’t know what portion if any of my order will actually show up at my door.

During a time that is already very tense for disabled people, we have also been informed that the man responsible for the Sagamihara Massacre has been sentenced to death.

I am at a loss about how to feel about this. I oppose the death penalty personally. I am trying to decide if I can be glad that his actions were so severely condemned while being uncomfortable with the actual punishment he received.

I can only be hoped that his victims (most of whom have still not been named publicly) and their families can find some peace.

This month started off with the Disability day of Mourning which was a sharp reminder of the extreme loss we experience in the disabled community at the hands of people who are supposed to comfort and care for us. Each day of remembrance includes the reading of the names of the dead. This is an endeavor that can take nearly an hour or more.

I started this month remembering those that we have lost already only to suddenly find myself in a world where disabled and vulnerable people are out at higher risk and that our overall survival may be based on the harsh realities of catastrophe medicine. Now we are also forced to relive the horror of the 19 murders that took place in the Tsukui Yamayuri En (Tsukui Lily Garden) facility.

This has been a hard month and it isn’t even over yet.

Please if you are able help the most vulnerable in your communities by practicing social distancing responsibly and by not hoarding resources.

I personally am experiencing financial difficulties as a result of Covid-19 and would appreciate any assistance you can offer, even if it’s just to share this blog post.

If you are able please consider helping me financially during this time. My situation is quite precarious.

You can support me on Patreon

Become a Patron!

You can buy me a coffee

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Or send me money directly through Paypal

paypal.me/crippledscholar

Trying to Maintain Access to Essentials During Covid-19 While Disabled

image description: A very crowded grocery store with many people waiting at the checkout like

The world it seems has dissended into chaos as a result of the novel coronavirus. The real problem here is that it leaves vulnerable people at risk of not being able to quire groceries. I am personally am facing imminent food insecurity as the ways I am able to obtain food come into higher demand.

I rely on grocery delivery services to get food. Not only are these workers working through the added barrier of far too many people being in the stores at one which make their jobs harder but they are also being inundated with more orders than usual as people choose to remain home rather than shop for themselves.

This leaves disabled people like me in the position of being left the scraps. I have no way of knowing if the groceries I ordered yesterday will be available when someone is finally going to be able to shop for them tomorrow evening. I’m not optimist. This means I will likely have to make multiple orders over several days. This adds additional costs that I can already ill afford.

I was relying on receiving student loans over the summer but with cancellation and universities closing, I might not be able to access that option.

The problem of overcrowding and panic buying at the grocery store presents issues beyond placing vulnerable people into food insecurity. It will also help spread the virus. Toronto (where I am) and other places have started to experience community spread of the disease. It is so important to be able to practice social distancing right now. Crowding grocery stores at this time puts everyone at much higher risk.

We desperately need the trend of panic buying to end not only so other people can access necessary supplies but to also make the act of shopping safer. It will be a total nightmare if there is a covid-19 outbreak at a grocery store.

Please plan for and act responsibly during this time. One of the biggest things you can do is to STOP PANIC BUYING! You are creating vulnerabilities in the community by doing so. You are also ensuring that grocery store are packed to the gills which seriously increases the risk of transmission.

Only go to the store if you need something, and if you are able do that shopping yourself. Disabled people and other people at high risk, rely on delivery services, so please do not monopolize them.

If your in the financial position to do so please consider those of us who are placed in financial trouble by this pandemic.

Remember, getting through this is going to be a community effort.

If you are able please consider helping me financially during this time. My situation is quite precarious.

You can support me on Patreon

You can buy me a coffee

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Or send me money directly through Paypal

paypal.me/crippledscholar

I Stand With Wet’suwet’en: Don’t Use Disabled People to Shame Protesters

Disabled people can be a very convenient scapegoat to either be the victim or the villain in just about any social issue. When it comes the environmental causes we have certainly been both.

In the often misguided war on single use plastic we are both the villains for needing many single use plastic products. We are also largely ignored as bans on things like plastic straws gain momentum. The latest battle is one where we are being used as convenient victims to shame the growing national protests in support of the Wet’suwet’en hereditary chiefs against the encroachment of a nationalized pipeline going through an unapproved route through their territory.

This issue is also so much bigger than the environment as it is also primarily an issue of Canadian colonialism and racism against Indigenous people. Yet, a British Columbia disability org, Disability Alliance BC wants to reframe an issue about land sovereignty and reconciliation as an issue of accessibility. This is a viewpoint that at least one news outlet seems happy to parrot.

It places the presumed access needs of disabled Canadians over the rights of Canadians to protest and over the rights of Indigenous Canadians.

I am appalled by the colonialism being practiced in my name and I want to express in the strongest terms that Disability Alliance BC does not speak for me.

I condemn completely the very idea a weaponizing disabled people in service to colonialism and placing our comfort and convenience against the rights of Indigenous people. Because, let’s be clear this isn’t an argument about conflicting rights. This is largely an argument against inconvenience. The same kind of inconvenience that everyone is intended to experience as a result of these kinds of protests.

Disability Alliance BC could be spending its time trying to mitigate the inconvenience to disabled people who lives might be disrupted by the current wave of protests. They have by no means shut down all travel in the country. They have instead chosen to shame protesters who want to support reconciliation and the Wet’suwet’en protests, rather than look for available solutions and place the blame where it really belongs. On the doorstep of a colonial government that both seeks to further entrench Canada in colonial violence and which on an every day basis fails to invest in accessibility for disabled Canadians. If Canada cared about accessibility disabled people wouldn’t be able to be used as a stick with which to bludgeon protesters because we would already have options to deal with unexpected travel delays.

If disability and access must come up in this conversation let it be one of criticism of how we still don’t have those options and how that is a structural wrong that should not be placed at the feet of protesters. Let the conversation also highlight the additional barriers Indigenous disabled people face as a result of colonialism.

Do not, however, legitimize the idea that protesters are wronging disabled people. Society already did that. I know I am not the only disabled person who does not want to be used as a tool to deny justice to others. My humanity should not and demonstrably in this case does not come at the cost of the humanity and rights of others.

I stand with Wet’suwet’en

I condemn the rhetoric of division that puts my rights and comfort above the rights of others. Particularly when their rights are being actively attacked by the government. When they face direct intimidation and violence from the RCMP.

I stand with Wet’sewet’en not with Disability Alliance BC

The Emperor Wore Jorts: An Autopsy of the CUPE 3903 2018 Strike from the Perspective of a Disabled Union Member

Image description: Geese blocking traffic as though they are a picket line
Image description: Geese blocking traffic as though they are a picket line

The CUPE 3903 York University strike is not a topic on which I am an expert. I was an active local member throughout the strike that lasted from March 5- July 25 2018. It was a surreal experience not least of all because no one expected the strike to go on that long and yet the fact that we hold the record for longest post-secondary strike in Canada happened with almost no external notice. I myself was in Ireland attending a Summer Law Institute the day we broke the record. My return to Canada in late June was a return to the picket line that I had left.

Image description: Me in Ireland My hair is also on vacation and is trying to get to know my glasses better by being shoved forward in a blond triangle
Image description: Me in Ireland My hair is also on vacation and is trying to get to know my glasses better by being shoved forward in a blond triangle

This is not going to be an in depth autopsy of the strike but rather the recollections of a single member who was keen to actively participate but who like many rank and file members of the local were isolated from those making decisions which often led to a distorted understanding of what was going on at any given time. Even in hindsight, I can’t put all of the pieces together on how we could achieve a moment in Canadian history (that admittedly no one but us cares about) considering all of the incompetence that has been revealed since the strike ended. I can’t help but believe that the local executive’s incompetence and  unwillingness to reconsider tactics is precisely why the strike dragged on as long as it did while we union members have few if any gains to show for our months of picketing.

From an individual standpoint, the strike is best understood through the rumours that ran through the picket lines and how we all got hyped up on small political wins we didn’t really understand. There is no single individual who can be blamed for the disastrous outcome of the 2018 CUPE 3903 York University Strike. I think it can be said however, that our local chairperson was the emperor with no clothes and yet he was treated as though he was draped in Armani (he has since been accused of sexual misconduct. Both the local and CUPE National are subject to HRTO complaints).

I showed up to picket on the first Monday of the strike. That first week I lasted three days before my body rebelled. Three days a week of picketing was the maximum my body could handle. I was already trying with little success to get what were called 8th line accommodations (there were 7 physical picket lines on campus). The union local equity officer didn’t think my doctors note was specific enough. After a strongly worded response explaining how medical notes are secret codes that mean more than what they say, my accommodations were approved.

I was sent a nonsensical quiz to see what 8th line work I’d be interested in. Nothing made it clear what kind of work you would be doing. My first job assignment that I turned town in a genuine panic was a managerial position. I can’t even remember for what anymore. I just knew I should not be overseeing people in such a chaotic situation.

At the time I just thought it was just people getting their bearings at the beginning of the strike but things never improved. Weird things started happening like a member of the local executive unilaterally decided to hire the graduate/faculty café to provide food for the strikers at an astonishing cost of about $10,000/week. The food was frequently inedible.

Image description: My smiling wearing a blue hat ,sweater and sunglasses/ I'm smiling while cuddling a husky. Strike dogs made the strike more bearable
Image description: My smiling wearing a blue hat ,sweater and sunglasses/ I’m smiling while cuddling a husky. Strike dogs made the strike more bearable

This wasn’t a day one decision. For a while the Sikh Temple provided our meals. It was a lovely arrangement of solidarity. It is also understandable that they could not reasonably be expected to keep feeding us for five months. The $10,000/week alternative was definitely bad though.

As for my 8th line accommodation, I briefly ran the CUPE 3903 Strike blog. An endeavor I created myself because of my discomfort with the way the communications team seemed to have no policies for content or quality control. They asked people to use their own social media accounts. There was no cohesive message. Embarrassing gaffes were made. At least with my little strike blog, I could keep things to union releases only and feel relatively confident that I wasn’t accidentally undermining the strike.

I was a passionate union member. For the first half of the strike I don’t think I forfeited a single picketing hour. Eventually the hits start getting to you or the wins turn out not to be the wind you thought they were.

We had the misfortune of going on strike during a provincial election. This fact alone is a big reason the strike lasted as long as it did. Initially the outgoing premier said she would not be legislating us back to work but as the election loomed large, one of her last acts in provincial parliament was to try to legislate us back so that we would not be on strike throughout the campaign season. Through a technicality I don’t understand where the New Democrats blocked the move, we were not legislated back to work. However, due to both the union’s and employers bargaining styles (employer says no, union has no actual functional strategy, just my personal theory) the fact that the strike would last through the election was almost assured.

Image Description: My epic strike fashion of a hat, sunglasses, plaid shirt and khaki pants and for some reason Christmas themed painted nails
Image Description: My epic strike fashion of a hat, sunglasses, plaid shirt and khaki pants and for some reason Christmas themed painted nails

In Ontario, the employer can bypass membership once to force a vote on a contract. We called it the Rat Vote and we defeated it handily. Both the Rat and Wynn failing to legislate us back felt like wins at the time. It felt like we were truly denouncing the employers offensive offer but these things really just delayed the end of the strike further. The longevity of the strike created cracks within the membership that had been simmering. Conspiracy theories flew fast and furious. Actual conversations were had round what kind of Marxists the various cliques were and if they were the “evil” kind of Marxists (there may have been rumours of a Maoist cult).

The labour movement might be based on Marxist ideals but I’m pretty sure you can plan and execute a strike without even knowing that there is more than one school of Marxism. The real issue of the longevity of the strike is that from a bargaining standpoint we were stuck and from a financial standpoint we were broke (that whole $10,000/week for good thing was a really bad idea). The union had made a number of financial missteps but the election wasn’t over so neither was the strike.

The strike dragging on this long had pretty obvious consequences. We lost a lot of the early vocal support and strike fatigue made it hard to get people to even show up to the picket lines. The decision was made to consolidate the existing seven picketing locations to two. One of the immediate results of that was the unintentional culling of several more local members from regular picketing because they couldn’t navigate the new social dynamics created by picketing with different people after months and for half those people doing it in a different place.

Picketing locations had originally been organized by academic program, so all the critical disability studies students (many of whom are disabled) who did not do permanent 8th line work had spent the first portion of the strike with the same people who had adapted our picketing strategy and space around accessibility. While we were lucky to bring our merry band of chaotic accessibility with us, not everyone at the new location was as committed to making sure the disabled members of the local got to participate in picketing.

One of the earliest accommodations for disabled picketers who were actually walking the line was the provision of chairs. Each picket line was provided with chairs but they were largely an accommodation for disabled members. I got in a confrontation about my right to sit down with a man who had been monopolizing a chair. He questioned my disability status. He questioned the disability status of the other people sitting in chairs (can confirm I knew them all to be disabled). He, ultimately, let me have the chair but he felt he had been wronged. He was eventually asked to leave the picketing area for making a scene. He returned the next day and tried to get public support for the “harm I did him” I really don’t know. It escalated onto one of the union listservs (not one I had access to).

It was decided that this incident needed to be brought to the membership at an SGMM (special general membership meeting, they happen weekly during strikes). That week’s SGMM was to be held at OISE (Ontario Institute for Studies in Education) at the U of T. I had designated a friend to speak on my behalf because, I no longer felt safe on the picket line. We sat through the usual SGMM filler, we went through the minutes. I can’t remember what exactly made the SGMM drag on (there was always something dragging those out) but just as it was about time for my friend to advocate on my behalf, several disgruntled members of the local’s unit 2 (contract faculty) decided to start a shoving match of the hallway at OISE at the University of Toronto. The local Chair had to immediately end the session to try and put a stop to the drama in hallway.

I ended up needing to be escorted to the subway by a friend.

My presence on the picket line was spotty after that. We tried again to bring up ableism on the picket line at the next SGMM but by then the hallway fight from the previous week had changed the tone of the meeting and it didn’t feel like anything was accomplished. I never really felt comfortable on the picket line going forward. I’d show up more to visit with friends I knew would be there than out of real fervor for the cause.

The strike was finally ended on July 25, 2018 by Doug Ford’s conservative government. The union is fighting the constitutionality of that back to work legislation. If they win, I hope they have a better strategy for the next time they are sitting across the table from our employer.

How to Support My Work

So now for the very in depth appeal for support for mu PhD. Please read through there are so many ways to help, including just sharing this blog post on social media.

Kindle ebooks read on my iPad are the easiest way for me to read and take notes unfortunately Amazon does not allow people to buy ebooks for others through their wishlist system. I have an amazon wishlist anyway as some of the books can only be purchased in print or from third party sellers because they are out of print. If you could buy me one of the books that can only be had in print, I would greatly appreciate it. If you want to help fund the ebooks I’ll need you can buy me a gift card and send it to the following email address

The email is kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

I will not be answering queries about my research through this email. It is solely a way for people who want to support my work to be able to do so. (this is a safety boundary). If you want to talk to me, find me on Twitter.

My research and supporting myself will get past the reading phase and there will be field work in my future. If you would like to help me fund my PhD in the long term you can

support me on patreon

Become a Patron!

buy me a ko-fi

send me money via paypal

send an e money transfer to the email above (if you have scruples about third party sites)

I also have a generic disability wish list of things that would just improve my quality of life

Thank you for your ongoing support. and just an FYI I’m changing my name socially to Kimberley Jane Erin. You can call me Kim or Jane but I prefer Jane. I am however, not the least uncomfortable with Kim so don’t worry about messing up.

It’s time I really leaned into my identity as a scholar. I hope you’ll support me

A Long Overdue Update

Image description: A blond white woman with cerebral palsy stands in a patch of tall grass in a garden outside the Humber River Hospital. She is smiling from her brief reprieve from the Psych ward.
Image description: A blond white woman with cerebral palsy stands in a patch of tall grass in a garden outside the Humber River Hospital. She is smiling from her brief reprieve from the Psych ward.

Hi Everyone,

It’s been a while and I’ll admit up front I might not be getting actively back into blogging for a while, though it is on my to do list (which is too long).

I’m just writing this to get you updated on why I disappeared and letting you know that going forward I need to focus on some issues in my life and really getting into the work of my PhD.

Last year, as a member of CUPE Local 3903 I participated in the longest post-secondary strike in Canadian history, something previously considered impossible for an English language university to accomplish. Quebec just has a better culture for getting angry when their educations are threatened.

The strike was long gruelling and full of emotional labour. The emotional labour of constant threats of vehicular death. The constant rhetoric from the university that cast me as an outsider despite my still being a student.

During this time I became estranged from my mother. This was an ultimately healthy decision but because of how long she had kept me isolated and emotionally dependent on her despite her abuse, it was hard. It is still hard but only in that not talking to mum tends to strain all the other family relationships.

The aftermath of the strike did not really calm things down, though I wasn’t threatened with bodily harm quite so much but I had difficulty getting myself regrounded in the academic environment.

I began dissociating and I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to pull myself out of this funk alone. So I went to the doctor and got diagnosed with anxiety, and PTSD (both conditions I am sure were not new just newly officially diagnosed).

I immediately began going to therapy but in my vulnerable emotional state, I chose my therapist very badly. She did help get me onto anti-anxiety meds and helped get me feeling slightly more grounded. Then she spent months isolating me from the few friends I see in person and isolating me more from my online presence, So isolating me from perhaps my strongest support network.

I had during the strike independently pulled back from blogging and some of my more inflammatory online activism. With a few exceptions. I stayed involved in the straw debate, though to a lesser degree than before and I admit I went unintentionally viral with #DoctorsAreDickheads

The stress of the attention was more than I could handle and I pulled away from Twitter even more. It took months for me to realize that my therapist was actually keeping me from moving forward with my life. The realization was uncomfortable and I spent some time trying to unpack it on Twitter

I had a lot of trouble processing that betrayal. I’m not sure I’ll ever know precisely what happened next because I began dissociating, this was quickly joined by a fugue state.

This means I didn’t even know who I was, what I was doing, or who I was communicating with. In my few lucid moments many online friends reached out in concern but because fugues cause amnesia, I assumed that I must have been hacked.

You see for the entire period of time I basically never left my bed. I knew I was unwell, I just didn’t realize that I was posting delirious and often hurtful things online. I’ve seen some of it and chosen to delete much of it.

I doubt I’ll ever get a full picture of what I was thinking or everything I said. I apparently called my brother about 20 times, I only remember two or three of the calls and I’m already mortified.

I understand completely, why people were concerned for my welfare. What I am still trying to come to grips with is that my sister decided to channel her concern over online posts that to my knowledge never threatened violence (there was a ton of sexual harassment and I could not be more sorry). The harm I caused during that fugue was emotional. Yet my sister decided that it was better to call the police than come check on me.

I was placed under what is known as a Form 2 which means the police are going to assume you are violent and you have no option for deescalation.

I made the mistake of trying to deescalate. I was lucid enough to know what cops and paramedics at my door meant but I was still unaware of my delirium induced online posts.

The fact that I was still unwell and prone to delusions, I remained I think surprisingly calm (by which I mean I only fought the police with rhetoric, I got loud) but I was still in a fugue state, I’m pretty sure at one point I thought I was my sister, at another I was convinced I was going to marry the star of the show I’d been watching in my more lucid moments.

I probably had at least 4 separate narratives going but I wasn’t violent.

Yet, I was still grabbed and shackled in the ambulance.

Dark bruise on pale skin from being grabbed while being involuntarily committed

That bruise is gone now but as it faded it revealed the thumb print of whoever it was who grabbed me to shackle me to the gurney.

I was shackled to that gurney for I don’t know how long. I lay there shackled long after I was removed from the ambulance. I was horribly uncomfortable and begged to be let out.

I did eventually convince security to let my left arm free because the shackle was forcing my shoulder into a painful and unnatural position because of my cerebral palsy.

This was my first clue that the psych ward is not prepared for physically disabled people.

I live tweeted much of my stay in the psych ward so you can check out my Twitter for more details on that.

I actually came out of the fugue pretty quickly upon getting to the hospital but I was on a 48 involuntary hold (known as a Form 1). I stayed for 8 days because my resting heart rate and blood pressure were disturbingly high.

I got very little in the way of psychiatric care. The attending physician seemed to be looking for the sort of person who is irrationally violent.

I was extremely compliant on the psych ward.

Well I was extremely compliant until something was inaccessible and then they had to deal with the full force of having me stay on as a voluntary patient just to figure out if something was wrong with my heart. I got cardiology tests on the psych ward that I don’t think the attending psychiatrist knew about in advance.

He seemed surprised that I was on a 24 hour holter heart monitor and was waiting for an echocardiogram. I think he was trying to discharge me.

I was ultimately discharged shortly after I received the echocardiogram. I have yet to hear back if any of those tests had any interesting results.

So I still don’t know if the dissociative fugue was caused by the mother of all panic attacks or if it was exacerbated by illness. Just like the exact details of everything I thought and did during the fugue, I will probably never know. I however, suspect that this latter ignorance is more likely to be blamed on how I was hospitalized and how my symptoms were initially interpreted. I didn’t get a blood test until I’d been there nearly 48 hours and was lucid all of the time.

Skipping ahead a bit (again see Twitter for more Psych ward details), I am now back home recuperating from my ordeals.

In the immediate I need to do two things complete my complaint against the therapist who tried and failed to derail my life (this is going to be very stressfull)

In order that my life not get further derailed, I need to get more actively focused on my PhD studies again. To that end my therapist from hell followed by my stint in the Psych Ward gave me a great idea for a dissertation topic and that is what I will be focusing my energy on.

Hopefully, if my life calms down (like after I’m done with the complaint against my former therapist) I will blog a little more regularly again.

Until then I hope you will support me in my goal of completing my dissertation in any way that you are able. Whether it be through emotional support or by financially investing in my academic success.

My dissertation is tentatively titled “We Still Hide Madwomen in the Attic”

It will be an autoethnographic (meaning I will be using myself as a research subject) study of how mad/disabled women have been and still are silenced and isolated both directly through things like abuse and involuntary committal to the cultural idea that mad women in attics are just a literary device for gothic novels.

In the immediate, I need to complete my comprehensive exams which necessitates a lot of reading. Some of the books are out of print and hard to find. I have created am amazon wishlist (it’s not exhaustive and will likely be added to). If you could support my work by purchasing one of the books on that list that cannot be had in kindle format, I would really appreciate it.

Kindle books read on an iPad are really the most accessible format for me but Amazon does not allow for the purchase of ebooks through wishlists. So I have set up an email solely for people who want to financially support my work. I would greatly appreciate gifts of amazon gift cards (I’ll even tell you which books you bought me)

The email is kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

I will not be answering queries about my research through this email. It is solely a way for people who want to support my work to be able to do so. (this is a safety boundary). If you want to talk to me, find me on Twitter.

My research and supporting myself will get past the reading phase and there will be field work in my future. If you would like to help me fund my PhD in the long term you can

support me on patreon

buy me a ko-fi

send me money via paypal

send an e money transfer to the email above (if you have scruples about third party sites)

I also have a generic disability wish list of things that would just improve my quality of life

Thank you for your ongoing support. and just an FYI I’m changing my name socially to Kimberley Jane Erin. You can call me Kim or Jane but I prefer Jane. I am however, not the least uncomfortable with Kim so don’t worry about messing up.

It’s time I really leaned into my identity as a scholar. I hope you’ll support me.