Category: disability culture


One of the big issues before and after the Krip Hop Nation event was the language of the movement – specifically the use of the word ‘Krip.’ Many scholars and activists in the disability communities use the term ‘crip‘ in a reclaiming political sense (explained more in my about me section of this blog). Leroy Moore shifted the spelling to use a ‘k’ to distinguish Krip Hop Nation from the LA gang – the Crips. This is due, in part, to work against the racist assumptions held and expressed by many people that those who are black and disabled, must have become disabled through being shot or other forms of (gang) violence.

Regardless of the spelling – Krip/Crip – these words are inflammatory to many. Many disability scholars and activists have reclaimed these words as a form of verbal assault against the institution of ableism through defusing the history of hate in these words. Whereas, others in the disability community are adamantly against reclaiming these words and insist upon only using people first language.  People first rhetoric requires one referencing a disabled person as “a person with a disability” to signify the disability as one aspect of the person’s identity but not the central or defining featuring of it. I do not live by the people first imperative but do appreciate its purpose; more people should see disabled people as *gasp* people – not just as objects that they can violate and exclude. People first language is all fine in theory, as I agree with the idea that disabled people should be recognized as people and I explain it to my undergrads because, like the social model of disability, I think these linguistic tools reflect the first steps in disability consciousness revolution.

My real problem is when people first politics begin to impinge on the ability of freedom of self-identifying labels. *Ahem* the First Amendment. As I explained when Bridget the Midget (former adult film star) keynoted the University of Florida disability and sexuality 2005 conference – while the word ‘midget’ is abhorred by many little people, if Bridget wants to identify as a flaming turd, she should (and does) have the right to do so. We should all be able to call ourselves the labels we need to and that feel right for our realities.

From the beginning of discussions of bringing Krip Hop Nation to the university, people were uncomfortable with the language. I was asked to change the title, but refused because it is not my movement, and I will not engage in an act of oppression of labeling something that is not mine.  The university refused to label the event correctly on the event page of the University homepage because they were afraid of giving off the wrong impression about the University. I explained throughout the pre-event discussions that Krip Hop is the language of the artists, and it signifies liberation to them. Therefore, they should decide how to label themselves, not us (as historically has happened with marginalized groups of people), but ultimately it didn’t matter – people tried to censor the name but Krip Hop Nation remains Krip Hop Nation. It will not bend to the whims of people not pushing this killer movement forward.

It is of note that an interesting dichotomy popped up with the language issue. Many people first language advocates were pumped about seeing Krip Hop and talked about it. In doing so, they used disabled first language. Thus, in a not so subtle way, Krip Hop Nation helped push people to consider language without an aggressive confrontation. Moving past what might have offended some; they saw how cool the idea of hip hop and disability could be and wanted to see it for themselves –which was evidenced by the diverse crowd in attendance. Also, a large somewhat conservative disability conference in Georgia is now courting Krip Hop Nation to perform at their event, even though they may not really be ready for Krip Hop Nation. Isn’t it beautiful how art can be part of our revolution?

Krip Hop Nation in ATL and other events like it (such as the DaDa Fest in England next month) subvert the traditional model of disability awareness by encouraging people in the crowd to acknowledge and even *gasp* celebrate disability culture. Part of the beauty of Krip Hop is that interweaves exposing the truth about negotiating the disability experience – stigma, love, desire… really everything  – with kick ass art and beats. Throughout the day the artists and panelists revealed raw emotions and a spectrum of analyses about disability.  Some of the comments expressed by the panelists and artists were not in line with my philosophy of disability, but I am working on seeing the value in the diversity of our voices. It is more honest to have variability of voices and understandings of disability rather than having a monolithic representation of disability – even if that monolith is reflective of my sexy understanding of disability.

Much of the content was emotionally and spiritually intense. I shared many of the feelings expressed about struggling to figure out ways to love my disabled body in a culture that devalues us.  I loved hearing stories of journeying to self love. Our community so rarely takes up this conversation. We speak of disability pride and political resistance– but we don’t talk about how we have to figure out ways to embrace our krip beauty and really come to a state of love. That missing dialog around love is so needed. I challenge all of us in the disability realm – disabled folks, our families, friends, etc. – to examine whether we are following dominant disability discourse by trying to “look beyond disability” to love the person or if we can have, even just brief moments, love of the whole package. Can YOU say I love disability? Maybe we need to practice together or privately in the mirror – saying I love THIS (my/your) krippy body, mind, sensory system, etc. I try to do this and certainly does not work every day. Sometimes the weathering of ableism and other isms that mandate perfection, just make it too difficult to look in the mirror and like what I see. I’ve said it before that is also difficult to hear from my partner that she sees me as beautiful and loves all of me – when I don’t. Clearly, this is an area to work on – for me and I bet for you. Let’s try to talk about this more.

The idea of loving disability and celebrating our culture causes cognitive dissonance in most people, including many disabled folks. Many seem quite hostile to the idea that disabled people can come to a place of self-love. In fact, the idea that a disabled person could love themselves is framed as delusional too many; which is in line with a guiding disability principle in our culture – we should all want to be able-bodied or assimilate into normalcy as much as possible (i.e. compulsory able-bodiedness).

This is why moments where we can have honest expressions and celebrations of disability culture – in its many forms – are so valuable to disabled people and society generally. I know many of the disabled people there really valued the moment to just breathe in KripLove and to celebrate us. The profound feeling of commonality in our experiences of difference really helped crystallize the growing feeling I have of love for my community. The after party only added to my growing KripLove, as it was a small collective of the artists and a few friends who get disability. The space we had is much like what bell hooks describes in “Loving Blackness as a Form of Political Resistance” in Killing Rage: Ending Racism – a place of emotional refuge where no one had to ask for access, hide attempts at making space easier for our navigation or explain disability basics. We could be ourselves. It was not perfect because we human and still managed to say some offensive things – but it felt really nice and cozy to curl up in a pile of KripLove! It was a perfect way to ring my 30th birthday. It’s so refreshing and recharging to be in that space after weathering the ableist world.

Group of Krip Friends: Robin, me, Keith, Ryan and Leroy in a loving pile on a couch

KripLove Pile!

The following day I spent many hours feeling KripLove surging through my body. I cried tears of joy, as I went over the event in my head and looked through our photos. This was much like the feeling I got from hosting the disability and sexuality conference at UF in 2005 – an overwhelming feeling of peace, as though I achieved something that I was supposed to do. For the UF conference, I glowed for about a week over a job well done – a well-attended event that was profound because it explored KripSex, an issue still rarely spoken of.

This time around my joy was cut a bit short through challenges of language at the event and critiques on ways it could have been better. Maybe my skin was thicker when I was younger – because I thrived on the editorials written about how awful I was for hosting a “freak show” with an adult film star talking about disability issues – or maybe it all just means more to me now to have people really feel the message I’m trying to share about disability.

I want people to get what I am doing – trying to shift social conception around disability. I want people to be liberated from the shackles of disability oppression, because it’s not just me and my krip siblings that hurt from these ideas of bodily, intellectual and sensory perfection – it’s all of us. Disability liberation is CENTRAL TO ALL of our liberation. That is what I want people to understand: this revolution of love, especially of the Krip flavor, is for everyone. I say this because if we all really LOVED DISABILITY – just imagine what cultural doors that would open (and be wide enough, with ramps, braille notations, lights, etc.) around our collective interpretation of the meaning of bodies. This could be a huge title wave of relief for so many people who hate our bodies because our culture teaches we shouldn’t or we can’t. Dream and talk about the possibilities of this with your comrades.

As I began to write this blog, I recanted how the past few weeks and months have been exhausting emotionally and physically. Teaching two new classes, running off to Michigan to do a sexuality and disability retreat that was really difficult for many reasons (article coming soon about that), planning this event, feeling anxious from being behind in grading and contending with ableism has been a lot to manage. I have come home many days this semester crying over feeling like I don’t take enough breaks but feel I don’t get enough done. I also cry about the ableist comments I hear all the damn time – all around me, in many places they shouldn’t be. Places that should be disability friendly are often harsh places for krips, especially the uppity ones, and it’s processing through all of this that I have found myself able to sit and write about Krip Hop in ATL.

Just putting together this event, to celebrate disability, required weathering a lot of ableism. My boss and I had to fight for a ramp for the stage for Krip Hop – which was not won until the week before the event.  I had to argue that we needed space for wheelchairs in the crowd – even though I was told it would throw the symmetry of the event space off. I was laughed at for requesting the ramp, as well as the idea of people walking up the ramp. I continue to wonder why a ramp is so humorous. Even though some might not believe I can do it, I played a diplomat or a compromising, happy oppressed person – depends on you frame this – because I just smiled and worked with the jerk to provide access to the artists and our guests. I knew I had to play nice to get what a successful event needed. But, it wore me down because of the direct attack on my people and because I had to silence a just response to his overt ableism. Thinking about it now makes me know this is why many activists quit movements – they just get too worn down by the realities of oppression in their own lives that they cannot muster up the energy to keep fighting against systems of power. They and I just want to survive. I don’t want to be a leader sometimes.

I felt a spectrum of emotions throughout this whole process of planning, execution and celebration of Krip Hop. I cried tears of joy after the event because of the KripLove I felt in the moments we shared celebration of disability, and I cried tears of sorrow because of the reactions I got after the event that it was hard to hear people identify as disabled and even *gasp*as  Krips (more on language later). The anxiety I felt before the event was tremendous. I really didn’t want to feel what I felt the last time I hosted a CLD event: like I hurt the center and its constituents because I ranted about my passion, sexuality. Leroy Moore (our delicious keynote, founder of Krip Hop Nation, co-founder of Sins Invalid and Krip brother of mine) procured an MC so I could minimize my voice in the event and more importantly because she had more experience with hip hop. This was also strategic on my part because I wanted to show everyone that these events are not about my ego, nor are they spaces where I need to say my truth – they are spaces for our guests to share their truths about disability.

I tried desperately to walk the tightrope of providing a space for disability celebration without pushing people to the point that they were angry or saddened. Of note is that so many of our panelists and artists said things that I wouldn’t get away with. It makes me wonder if having a sexuality focus has marked me as deviant, and if everything I say is somehow already too charged to hear. But alas, these are questions for another day – you want to read about Krip Hop and that’s the story I will tell you, in five pieces. This post is broken into pieces to ease consumption of a somewhat long tale of journeying through KripLove.

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