A teal background with black and white text, “Inter-diagnosis, undiagnosed, and self-diagnosed SOLIDARITY. In a world that often dehumanizes “Others” solidarity is powerfully humanizing. Community strength, community change.
So many of our communities are separated by diagnosis or probable diagnosis, and that makes sense because you know those people share some of your experiences. But I remember the early years of being sick, when I was kind of in denial about it but still looking for community. There wasn’t anywhere to go, because I had not yet accepted that I was diagnosed, and I didn’t know how to find communities that weren’t based on diagnosis. As important as it is to work with others who share our diagnosis or probable diagnosis, it’s also important to work with other disabled and marginalized communities. There is strength in diversity, in diversity of thought and in diversity of experience. When we pull together, we can make big change- not only in our societies, but also in each other. In a world that often dehumanizes “Others”, solidarity is powerfully humanizing.
A stylized orange and yellow image designed to mimic instant messages. The text reads: Join #NewDemoChat and @TheWillowsWork to discuss systemic barriers to care, discrimination and bias, communication, and more! LET’S TALK INTERSECTIONAL HEALTHCARE! Wednesday May 26, 7-8pm EST on Twitter: tag and follow #NewDemoChat! With Special Guest Kaia Arrow @TheWillowsWork. There are two circular message icons: a photo of Kaia, a young Asian woman smiling gently towards the camera; and a graphic orange with the text NDC #NewDemoChat overlaid on top of it.
This Wednesday May 26th, I’ll be joining @NewDemoChat on Twitter to talk about Intersectional Healthcare! We’ll be discussing systemic barriers to accessing care, discrimination and bias, communication, and more- all my favourite topics.
Come join the discussion from 7-8pm EST by following @NewDemoChat and @TheWillowsWork on Twitter, and tagging your tweets with #NewDemoChat!
NewDemoChat is a grassroots collective of NDP folks, but everyone is welcome to join in on the conversation regardless of political affiliation or involvement. Wednesday chats feature conversations on under-served communities with an equity seeking and intersectional lens.
A graduation photo with text over a backdrop of green grass, with a digital frame. Kaia smiles directly into the camera, with this text overlaid on top, WE DON’T WANT TO GRADUATE STUDENTS LIKE YOU. Kaia wears a navy blue graduation gown and gold-fringed hood, with a bouquet of red flowers.
I wanted and deserve this degree. #SocialWork needs sick & disabled and racialized workers, but we’re most likely to drop out of programs that are overwhelmingly white and shockingly ableist. It took me eight long years to finish this degree, and it took a toll on me- as did 10 years of being undiagnosed.
For the first five years, I pushed my body beyond its limits with the aid of (legal) stimulants and pressure driven by wellness culture. Even after that, when I had accepted my illness and my health started to stabilize as a result, I knew my determination to finish was eating at my remaining functioning.
It was obvious that my body was strained during the school year, and even more obvious that spending my “free time” self-advocating for accommodations and consulting with human rights lawyers was not restful. But without that effort, I would not have been able to finish. Not only have I finished a Bachelor of Social Work, I’ve gotten a crash course in disability policies, human rights law, community care, decolonization, and the medical industrial complex. It was an enormous burden.
I was told they didn’t want to graduate “students like me” because remote learning wouldn’t be enough, that I shouldn’t have enrolled if I knew I needed accommodations. The same accommodations that became available nationwide within a week only a few years later.
I’m still considering why finishing was so important to me. There’s the obvious- completing a professional degree gives me more job opportunities. But it’s also possible that if I hadn’t finished, I’d be more able to work. That if I hadn’t spent these years bending my body to the rigidity of schooling, I’d have more to give at the end of it.
You rock slowly down the narrow hard-packed path between rows of deep green rushes. The trees reach straight up to a bright blue sky, studded in pale green buds. There are birds -everywhere-. Their songs echo sweetly through the fresh spring air. Stop and take a breath. This is the fresh start promised by the earth after the long pause of winter.
A teal background with black and white text, “Celebrating diagnosis? Celebrating diagnosis is not celebrating illness. It’s about getting answers and care BUT– Your illness is real without a diagnosis. You should receive support without a diagnosis.
For those who are only familiar with acute illness, the concept of celebrating a diagnosis is akin to celebrating being sick. But for people who have been sick for months/years/decades without a diagnosis, getting clear answers is certainly something to celebrate. It gives us and our care providers a structure of what to expect: a name, an idea of how the illness progresses, and treatment/management options.
At the same time, I think it’s important to push back against the other ways diagnosis currently functions. Your illness is real without a diagnosis. You should be able to receive accommodations and support without a diagnosis. You are not worth less for being sick.
A photo with white text, “University education is a privilege, and it’s not right for everyone.” Kaia is a young Asian woman, smiling while leaning on her cane. She wears a black mortarboard, a grey t-shirt, and a purple and gold saya- a traditional Filipino skirt.
I’m going to make an assumption, which is that some of you saw this grad photo and thought, “If she can do it while sick & disabled, I should be able to too.” I do the same thing with other people in our community, and I’m still working on unlearning that reflex to compare and put myself down in the process.
Here’s what you don’t know:
I am chatty and not very shy, and that contributed to building a strong supportive community among both faculty and friends who actively advocated for me with the administration (this is the big one!)
I live in an area where I can access free disability-specific legal advice without which I wouldn’t have gotten accommodations
My parents, government grants, disability benefits, and scholarships covered my tuition, medical bills, and living expenses (this is also big!)
My partner has been cooking meals for both of us for 2 years, so I did not have to do food prep to eat
Toronto has 3 universities, I was well aware that if I didn’t get accommodations I could transfer to a program without a placement component
I often have mental energy when I lack physical energy
Honestly, school suits me. I don’t love-love it, but I really do have endless curiosity and I enjoy writing.
I can’t quantify how sick I am so we can compare, and though quantifying can be useful I don’t think it is in this case. There are so many other factors- like how my illness manifests, and what supports I have that mitigate those effects.
So no, you “should” not be able to finish a degree just because I did. You don’t have to want that for yourself if you don’t.
The Willows Work 