Tag Archives: writing

UWC updates! Readings, bookfairs, film launches, oh my!

Well, between getting by, eating food, singing in my undies, lying down and writing, sitting up and writing, swimming, and hanging out with the people I love, I’ve found myself involved in some exciting events that I would love to share with you. In order:

May 23, Montreal’s Anarchist Bookfair. I’ll be tabling all day. Some by, say hi, get your hands on a copy of the Underwater City Zine I.. got a fresh batch coming out of the oven, they’re professionally bound and everything! Also, will have a few hand made puzzles up for grabs:)

May 29, ACSEXE+ Film series launch and cocktail. 5 à 7, Maison du développement durable (50 Sainte Catherine west). This fabulous event will be the culmination of a lot of the work I’ve been doing lately. Three short videos featuring three people talking about sex-positivity and sharing tips for the crip community will be screened and a short discussion will follow. Then snacks, smoozing and social time. Yes yes yes! **L’evènement sera en français. Event will be in French, whisper translation into English will be available. Films sous-titré. Films closed-captioned in French at screening – will be posted online with closed captioning in French and English. Interpretation LSQ sera en place:)

June 10, Underwater City Launch, Edmonton! I’m excited about this, I’m going to do a reading and feature some local music at Cha Island Tea Shop, from 7 pm onward. Edmonton, let’s do adult story-time, I’d love to see you there!

September…. surprise Halifax zine launch and reading. Location and details to follow!!


I am a lucky girly. I get to work on this blog and video project, ACSEXE+ all about sex and disability. I get to collaboratively encourage Quebec to be more sex positive, open and downright sexy. I get to work on a video featuring some fabulous Quebecers who want to share their thoughts on how to accessibilize sex! I’ll interview people about their perspectives on sex and how it relates to disability. I get to research and facilitate knowledge sharing between people who identify as having a disability, and learn people’s tricks on sex positions, how to resist ableism in the dating world, and what we can collectively do to make Quebec a more sex-positive place! I am a lucky girly!!

If you have some art or writing that you’d like me to feature, share your ideas with me! Make me even more lucky:)


The beginning of a story…

Her temperament changed with the temperature of the water. He rinsed laundry she showered. He sold tomatoes, she bathed. He fed the dogs, she swam in the ocean, her breasts raising the smooth surface of the water up down up, with every stroke of her tanned arms. The now late summer sun had been caressing those arms daily as she kicked off the rocky shore towards the island. It always seemed to kiss her with the most passion before noon brought the heat of the day. She was always hottest in the morning.

She couldn’t remember when she began taking herself to that rocky shore, or why. Was it to warm up, after the spring had left her bones – and her interest in him had chilled? Or was it in the summer, to refresh herself after waking up in a sweat, jumping in to have droplets of sweat mix with salty waves lucky enough to touch her? She didn’t remember but she knows now.

She jumps in, pushes off, braves the jellyfish and fishermen with small boats and big voices, to reach the island. For every temperature her blood brings the island matches it: stormy if she’s mad, drizzling when she’s morose, deep violet sky when shes feeling macabre. The island compliments her, welcoming her with slight grazes of leaves and beds of gentle mosses, and she goes on emoting, waving her hair or flicking the buds off flowers. The island loves her, she knows that. The way they make love makes the grass on the ground tremble. The birds flock out of thin branched trees, startled, and then sneak back again. Because its too good to miss.

<The underwater city is a very sexy place. There’s more to come in this story…>

Excuse my absence, tumblr, I know you miss me

Recently, I have not been writing on this blog regularly, which I miss. I have been happily doing:

a reading to promote my zine – ie storytime for adults!

working on a communications contract for a cool org that works with girls

sleeping in

writing the beginning of a play about bedsheets


writing an article on sexual harassment and the beginning of the school year

rehearsing with my band – lalala

acquiring pain in my hands and arms from driving my scooter, and stressing out about this

celebrating my honey’s bday

starting work with an awesome media lab

planning a sexy workshop about gender, sexuality and dis/ability, which will be Sept 30th from 6-8pm in room LB-1019 on Concordia University campus in Mtl.


This is my solemn swear to post something more interesting than this list in the next three days. I’ll include photos:)

Reflections after an amazing couple of days of finishing my zine, printing it, performing from it at a sparkling and fabulous cabaret, launching it at a warm and electric queer zine fair. Sometimes when the high frequency of excitement wears off, I’m left feeling nervous. Thanks to everyone who’s been supporting me. This is a project that has had many hands holding it up!

Having just positively hogged down two people’s worth of sushi in one sitting, washed it down with celebratory sparkling water to prepare my tastebuds for a bar of chocolate to be taken in as fast as I can ingest it, I ask myself, how many voices did I leave out of that zine? The length of this selfie dinner is about the amount of time it takes to realize, stress of the last weeks and two days of performing and launching my zine still churning in the shape of a stomach acid tornado, that it’s out of my hands now. There are typos, there are spacing problems, there are things that, on second thought, I probably shouldn’t have put in there, and things that I should have articulated better. It’s not a blog post, ever ready to be altered, censored or taken down all together. This is paper. It is out of my hands into other people’s.

So many people’s. Someone who smiled magnetically at me and told me the reason they came to the fair was to buy my zine. Someone who thanked me for my performance last night, saying they were happy someone was saying what I said. Someone who said to me square in the face that I am powerful. Sceptical people who toured the room and circled back to pick up the zine. Ginger fingers taking what was once just mine, considering it, caressing it, and taking it with them on their bikes or on the bus to wherever they are now. Maybe they didn’t have time to go home and drop off their bag before the party tonight. Maybe they’re there now, my paper words in their backpacks still.

I’m worried. I’m worried that my words will be misunderstood or unclear or that my anger will be taken sharply, interpreted as just another crip white chick with too much social standing and not enough time to listen to the quieter voices. I’m worried that those who I named in my stories will be unhappy, that my sexuality, fluctuating as it is, will be unhappy to be outed so explicitly, that the words, once mine, will be irritating to those who read them, lacking context and analysis, lacking glue, lacking, lacking.

But yet there they are, in backpacks, on bedside tables, in bike baskets, in hands. The paper words are out there, and all I can do is let the pages float away too, on the good graces of my fellow word loving queers. All I can do is hope that they’ll be received with generosity and critical spirits, and that conversations will happen. I hope that I will hear the intimate words of those who read my zine, so I can find out exactly how many perspectives I am missing and what they’re like. All I can really do is hope these things and keep writing, learning from my worries. Because despite these post-adrenaline worries, this damp weather mirroring my foggy mind, I know I am on a path that I will keep on writing. As I sentimentally wrote to myself in my very own copy of my zine, I should be proud. I finished, and I presented myself to the world, not claiming to be someone different. Not claiming to know all the perspectives, not claiming to hear all the whispers and the rumblings, but open and excited to hear more with each new page I write. As I headed home after the fair, painting behind my back, zines exploding from my scooter’s every orifice, I felt alive, content, buzzing, and that’s how I know I’m rolling in the right direction.

View from my mobile office today. Getting ready to release my zine: Underwater City I, featuring interviews with accessibility activists across Canada and selected writing by me, and a wonderful painting by my friend Lucy. This Saturday is its coming out at Queer Between the Covers zinefair!!

Kaleigggh! I was just sittin on my couch after a looong French class this morning, sippin afternoon wine and wishing I had something to curl up with and read, and then BANG! The doorbell rings, the pizza boy is there with my over-priced, gluten free pms pizza, and he hands me this! Can’t wait to dig in!!


Some thoughts on Ray Aldred’s piece on sexual oppression and disability.

Thorough article, lots to think about, thankful for your candour in sharing personal experiences of micro aggressions related to disability. I can definitely relate to kids wrapping their fingers around my wrists and saying iiiiits sooo smaaaalll! Funny, I’d forgotten about that unwanted attention I received until I read this.

Budding reflections..

In terms of the sexual oppression of disabled people as rejection, I would add to your analysis that some male sexual or romantic partners, particularly in hetero relationships are drawn to disabled women for the reverse of the reason that you argue they are desexualized. Disabled women are seen in need of care, and certain men want to ‘provide’ for them sexually, and want to feel extra strong and virile, in relation to the perceived weak woman. To me, this is an amplification of cultural trends in hetero relations where men are to be strong, and women to be passive.

Similarly, some disabled people are overly sexualized, particularly because of their perceived deviance from the bodily norm. In some instances, perceptions of disabled women’s sexuality is placed directly in their disability. There are pornography sites directly marketed to men with disabled women fetishes. In my personal experience I have had men come on to me expressing curiosity or sexual interest because they want to know what its like to have sex with a woman with a physical disability. Gross.

On that note, some women (and girls) with disabilities, in looking for social and gendered acceptance, contribute to their own hyper-sexualization in an attempt to gain power through sexualization. Similar to (disabled or non) women, say in a workplace where the only way to be heard is if you wear lipstick and stick your tits on the board room table.

Either way, its seems disabled people are objectified, ie subject to scrutiny that, like the continuum of empowerment you mention, is on a spectrum – with the extremes being complete desexualization and hyper-sexualization.

When you mentioned the fear non-disabled people have of hurting disabled people, particularly during sex, I reflected on the image we have of ‘normal’ ie hetero able bodied sex being rough, quick, focused on penetration, and physically all encompassing. The image in pretty much every hetro rom-com ever of a rather violent beginning wherein the male partner chases then grabs the woman, plants a sloppy kiss on her, they rip each others’ clothes off and then he mounts her like an orangutan and they do it (in out in out, she lying there, he working it) for five minutes, is a very narrow view of a particular type of sex. The idea we have from popular culture, sex ed classes and portrayals of sex all around us is inherently ableist and hetero-centric. There are a million ways of having sex, and I would posit that if our cultural narratives around sex opened up in terms of diverse sexuality and feminist sex, or at the very least a branching out of the verging-on-rape-fantasy described above, there would be less ableism in understandings of sex as well. Queer sex, slow sex, oral sex, gentle sex, kink… The rainbow, which is left out of popular discussions and portrayals of sex, includes many body types and ways of being.

This is not to say that the incorporation of queer sexualities into cultural narratives of sex would do away with ableism, but could be a departure point for a broader discussion of diverse bodies, ‘modes of performance’, and expressions of sex.

What do you think? Am I romanticizing queer sex? Is it just as ableist?

Definitely more thoughts to come, love the discussion possibilities this piece offers. And I hope to hear your reactions to my thoughts/ interpretations!

Disability, Sexual Oppression, and What Sex Can Be

Views from my mobile office today, waiting for the music to start:)