Image Description: Bright, yellow flowers with green stems and leaves on a brown table with two brown chairs behind them. The flowers are leaning over the container in many directions.

Before COVID-19 hit, I used to keep yellow alstroemeria flowers on the dining room table. I did this regularly because they’re beautiful, but I also loved that when I brought them home and put them in a vase, they would typically last for about three weeks.

Around this time last year, I bought a bouquet. I kept them in their sleeve on a table for just a couple of hours, and… they wilted completely. Way more than the first photo above. They seemed destroyed. This was such a quick transformation that I assumed I needed to put them immediately in the compost.

“Well, I guess I’ll try,” I thought. I put these extremely wilted flowers in a vase with water and plant food. They looked like a sad cartoon. Then I ran an errand, and when I came back, they had perked right up. This too was completely surprising to me. And a couple of days later, they were even stronger and more vibrant.

This had me thinking…

Sometimes, nourishment is the work.

Nourishment is what we need. We can give this gift to ourselves in self-care. And community-care can be even more transformative, when with consent and empowerment, we are nourishing each other.

Sometimes, nourishment is the work. And when we choose it and help cultivate these nourishing conditions collectively, more is possible than we tend to think. Sometimes the seemingly impossible becomes possible.

— Renee Roederer

Image Description: Bright, yellow flowers with green stems and leaves on a brown table with two brown chairs behind them. Now the flowers are tall and straight.

Image Description: A group of lambs. Some are eating grass. Some are looking around. Public domain image.

If you’re feeling stressed in any way, I just want you to know about this thing that happens. I want you to imagine it and smile.

I have a friend who lives on a farm where they raise sheep. And every night before sunset, all of this year’s lambs, who are now functionally tweens, get together in a little tweeny bopper gang and run around the farm en masse. It’s a thing they do.

As they near dusk, they just get the urge to be with their peers and exert their energy in a collective romp around all the grounds of the farm. A little gang. Of tweeny bopper sheep. Running around together. In the joy of adolescence.

I just want you to know about these tweeny bopper sheep.
I want you to know that this happens every day.

—Renee Roederer

Image Description: This image shares the four primary nervous system responses to trauma — fight, flight, freeze, and fawn — as well as symptoms for each and ways they are commonly mislabeled. I am sharing the image text throughout the blog post below. I found this image on @SELSpace on Facebook.

As we move through this time of upheaval and pandemic, this is an important time to learn about trauma and the responses that our nervous systems often take in response. When we’re feeling overwhelmed, we can move into states of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. We might also vacillate between a couple of these.

In addition to these becoming activated due to present circumstances,

— some people have endured past traumas as well, and these can become reactivated in our nervous systems in these ways,

and/or

— some people have lived with dysregulated nervous systems throughout much their lives, not necessarily remembering large, traumatic events in childhood, but rather, growing up in households that felt stressful and overwhelming in a generalized way. In these households, it was difficult to have needs cared for and nurtured, or caregivers may have also had dysregulated nervous systems, making it difficult to co-regulate alongside them.

In both of these instances, people may live with symptoms of PTSD or CPTSD (the C stands for complex and means that the traumatic events or environment was long-lasting).

In a moment, I’m going to list symptoms of the 4F pathways of trauma. You may recognize some of these in yourself or your loved ones. Please know that these don’t have to remain stuck or static in the body, and we don’t have to stay stuck or static in these patterns. There is help. Therapy certainly helps, and it’s okay to seek that help. In fact, it can be transformative. There are a variety of somatic therapies that help to heal our bodies and these patterns. (As just one example, I’m a big cheerleader for EMDR. Check it out.)

These are the 4Fs of trauma and PTSD. Which pathways tend to be primary for you? I am typing out the text of the image above.

Fight

• Self-preservation at all costs
• Explosive temper and outbursts
• Aggressive, angry behavior
• Controls others
• Bully
• Can’t ‘hear’ other points of view
• A pronounced sense of entitlement
• Demands perfection from others
• Dictatorial tendencies

Typically mis-labelled as
– Narcissist
– Sociopath
– Conduct disorder

Flight

• Obsessive and/or compulsive behavior
• Feelings of panic and anxiety
• Rushing around
• Over-worrying
• Workaholic
• Can’t sit still, can’t relax
• Tries to micromanage situations and other people
• Always ‘on the go;’ busy doing things
• Wants things to be perfect
• Over-achiever

Typically mis-labelled as
– OCD
– Bipolar
– ADHD
– Panic disorder
– Mood Disorder

Freeze

• Spacing out
• Feeling unreal
• Hibernating
• Isolating self from the outside world
• Couch potato
• Dissociates
• Brain Fog
• Difficulties making decisions, acting on decisions
• Achievement-phobic
• Wants to hide from the world
• Feels ‘dead,’ lifeless

Typically mis-labelled as
– Clinical depression
– Schizophrenia
– ADD
– OCD

Fawn

• People pleasing
• Scared to say what they really think
• Talks about ‘the other’ instead of themselves
• Flatters others (to avoid conflict)
• ‘Angel of mercy’
• Over-caring
• Sucker
• Can’t stand up for the self, say ‘no’
• Easily exploited by others
• Hugely concerned with social standing and acceptance, ‘fitting in’
• ‘Yes’ man (or woman…)

Typically mis-labelled as
– Codependent
– ‘Victim’

Do you recognize these patterns in yourself or your loved ones? They are natural and do truly discharge traumatic energy. Our bodies have them because we need them at times. But we don’t want to become stuck in them. That causes larger problems for us. These patterns may spin out, causing us pain, and impacting our relationships.

But we can heal these patterns, and we can do the work of healing the systems that cause so much trauma in the first place. I love how the word ‘heal’ is both passive and active at once. We receive healing and cultivate it over time, and we can act as healers for a world with less trauma.

—Renee Roederer

This is a sermon I prepared for Northside Presbyterian Church in Ann Arbor this morning on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30. Most of the scripture text is embedded in the sermon. The video above is from Facebook Live. If you have any challenges accessing the video in this post, feel free to go here. There is a transcript below.

I know this doesn’t come as a surprise, but…

There are times when people don’t want to listen and don’t want to change. There are times when we don’t want to listen, and we don’t want to change. And so we live in contradictions — whether they are held within ourselves, or whether they are held within our culture at large, particularly upheld by those who have the most power.

“I don’t see color,” some say, while also making broad, generalizing statements about whole groups of people according to their skin color and what “they” are like.

“I want a haircut!” some demand in protest at the Michigan state capitol — some also with guns — while lambasting Black Lives Matter protests against state violence and police brutality.

“Wearing a mask is an infringement on my liberty!” some cry, including some in Texas where other Texans are no longer permitted for the time being to have important surgeries because medical professionals need to make more space to treat COVID patients.

These contradictions are all on display right now. And we carry some inside ourselves — some large, but some much more subtle. They’re not always sinister, though they can be difficult or painful. They may also do harm inside ourselves or to others.

Of course, there are also times when people use contradictions as excuses to avoid listening or changing. There are times when we use contradictions as excuses to avoid listening or changing.

Our Gospel text begins with one of these. In fact, Jesus is frustrated with it. “To what will I compare this generation?” he laments. Then he seeks some analogy, some image to bring it home. “It’s like children sitting in the market-places and calling to one another,”

‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed and you did not mourn.’”

It’s never good enough. There’s always some excuse not to participate or change. There’s always some excuse to discredit the ones who are calling for participation or change.

Jesus continues and says, “For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon;’ the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!’”

Indeed  it’s never good enough. There’s always some excuse not to participate or change. There’s always some excuse to discredit the ones who are calling for participation or change.

“Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds,” Jesus says. When we live our lives in the direction of transformation, wisdom vindicates those deeds, and in fact, those deeds vindicate the wisdom behind the actions.

Without needing conditions to be perfect or good enough, there are always reasons to participate and change. There are always reasons to follow the leadership of those who call for participation and change. Wisdom is often vindicated in the end.

Jesus seems to believe that wisdom is turned on its head or perhaps revealed most fully at the bottom — revealed among those who are just as valuable as anyone else, yet who pushed to the bottom of the social hierarchy. Wisdom is vindicated inside these people and these communities. And Jesus gives thanks.

He says,

“I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to the infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.”

Greg Boyle is one of the people I most admire. He’s a Jesuit priest and the founder of Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles, California, an organization that provides job training and healing to people who want to leave gangs and people who have been incarcerated, giving them a new chance and building kinship community together. At Homeboy Industries, people who used to belong to rival gangs work side by side, heal their lives, and open possibilities for a new future.

These individuals have known great pain and have often caused great pain. In his book, Tattoos on the Heart, Greg Boyle writes that every single person he has ever met who joined a gang, did so not because this was ultimately what they wanted to do with their lives but because they were running from something — often great, personal trauma.

And together, at Homeboy Industries, they do that healing work, the work of transforming the past, making amends, and healing toward another future. Father Boyle teaches them about a God who loves them, enters their pain, and invites them to transform the pain they have experienced, ultimately participating in God’s final things — love, justice, peace, wholeness, and connection with God and neighbor.

This is what Greg Boyle says about those who live at the margins. This is the calling he places before us too. Imagine this vision… There is…

“No daylight to separate us.

Only kinship. Inching ourselves closer to creating a community of kinship such that God might recognize it. Soon we imagine, with God, this circle of compassion. Then we imagine no one standing outside of that circle, moving ourselves closer to the margins so that the margins themselves will be erased. We stand there with those whose dignity has been denied. We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. We situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.” (From Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion)=

It is to those on the margins and to us that Jesus says,

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

What if we were to move closer to the margins so that the margins themselves will be erased?

We know this can be hard work — not necessarily getting to know the neighbors who are pushed the the margins, but giving up the privilege that so readily centers and comforts us. I know that I feel this even as I say this… I know that I find myself sometimes living in contradiction with what I am apt to say and preach. This work is not always easy and light. It is sometimes filled with internal tensions; it is often challenging.

But life on the margins, so that margins are erased? This great vision that Jesus practiced with his living and loving? When we live in kinship, the yoke is easy and the burden is light; it is no longer heavy and burdensome for some alone.

We also know we haven’t realized this vision. Not fully. We live far from it in many ways, and yet it calls to us. And yet… it is invoked by Jesus, one who is a friend of the tax-collectors too, one who meets with the powerful and accompanies them into transformation too.

“Come to me,” he says. “Come to me, all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens”… those who are under the load of oppression and those who are weary of the distorting role of oppressor… Come to me… toward the margins… so that the margins will themselves be erased… so that their reality will be transformed, and we ourselves will be transformed.

No daylight to separate us.
Only Kinship where we will find rest for our souls.

–Renee Roederer

 

Image Description: This cartoon image is by Ben Montero. A bunch of friends — an alligator, two birds, a frog, a worm using a wheelchair, and a dog — are all together, smiling, and looking in different directions. In the middle, some text says, “Sometimes, I Can’t Make It On My Own,” and then in the bottom right of the image, some text says, “That’s OK!”

Happy Interdependence Day!

I always post this image by Ben Montero on July 4. I really love it.

This year, I also want to share this quote from Mia Mingus. She is a Disability Justice and Transformative Justice activist, teacher, and practitioner. She discusses the myth of independence in her lecture “Access Intimacy, Interdependence, and Disability Justice,”  she says,

“The myth of independence is the idea that we can and should be able to do everything on our own and, of course, we know that that’s not true. Someone made the clothes you’re wearing now, your shoes, your car or the mass transit system you use; we don’t grow all our own food and spices. We can’t pretend that what happens in this country doesn’t affect others, or that things like clean air and water don’t bound us all together. We are dependent on each other, period. The myth of independence reflects such a deep level of privilege, especially in this rugged individualistic capitalist society and produced the very idea that we could even mildly conceive of our lives or our accomplishments as solely our own. And of course, the other side of this is not just that it’s not true—not just that the emperor has no clothes, but that everyone else should pretend he’s fully clothed too. So, the Myth of Independence is not just about the truth of being connected and interdependent on one another; it is also about the high value that gets placed on buying into the myth and believing that you are independent; and the high value placed on striving to be independent, another corner stone of the ableist culture we live in. Interdependence moves us away from the myth of independence, and towards relationships where we are all valued and have things to offer.”

So today… think about interdependence also. This is a liberating way for us to live collectively.

 

For the last year, I’ve been working as Co-Director of the Interfaith Round Table of Washtenaw County alongside Dwight Wilson. This summer, Dwight decided to retire from his Co-Director role and has instead joined our IRT Board. Beginning this month, I am now the part-time Director of IRT. I thought I’d share the announcement today. This also gives me the occasion to lift up the vision of this wonderful organization. Even as we go virtual, I think we’re going to have a meaningful program year.

Image Description: Photo 1) Renee Roederer stands on a street with the fallen, purple leaves of jacaranda trees in Pasadena, CA, Photo 2) Dwight Wilson and Renee Roederer sit side by side as Co-Directors at the First Presbyterian Church Mission Bazaar, Photo 3) Renee Roederer stands near a meadow with a Colorado mountain in the distance. She’s wearing a purple shirt that says “Epilepsy Awareness: Love”, Photo 4) Renee is gathered in her living room with members of the Young Adult Interspiritual Community.

The Rev. Renee Roederer serves as the Director of the Interfaith Round Table of Washtenaw County. Keeping our values of respect, compassion, and dignified appreciation at the center, she believes strongly in the power of interfaith dialogue. “For 25 years, the Interfaith Round Table of Washtenaw County has hosted transformative conversations throughout our communities,” she says. “These transformative conversations have invited us to deepen interfaith friendships, gain mutual understanding, and discuss the pressing issues of our day. When we come together in shared dialogue, we catalyze meaningful impacts for Washtenaw County. In this vision, we form relationships and take action for collective change.”

Renee Roederer says her personal motto is, “Connection changes everything.” Describing herself as a relational network weaver, she prioritizes community formation with the fundamental conviction that social connection bolsters interdependence, care, and transformative action. She believes that IRT serves as a tremendous community platform to deepen spirituality and form interfaith friendships with lasting impact.

Renee Roederer grew up in Floyds Knobs, Indiana, a suburb near Louisville, Kentucky on the Indiana/Kentucky border. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in Vocal Performance from the University of Louisville and a Master of Divinity from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. Ordained as a Presbyterian minister, she has served Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) congregations in Austin, Texas; Pasadena, California, and Ann Arbor, Michigan. In these intergenerational communities, she worked as a campus minister and pastor for young adults. She keeps in touch regularly with alumni who have moved all over the country, and more than a decade later, they are still building a network of kinship together.

For the last four years, Renee Roederer has served as a Community Chaplain within Washtenaw County as commissioned by the Presbytery of Detroit. In that role, she is the organizer for Michigan Nones and Dones, a community for people who are religiously unaffiliated or who have departed from organized, institutional religious communities. Together, they talk about faith, spirituality, and larger meaning over shared conversation and friendship. As a Community Chaplain, Renee Roederer also serves as the founding mentor for the Young Adult Interspiritual Community which includes students and recent alumni from the University of Michigan who represent a variety of spiritual backgrounds.

Renee Roederer is an advocate for Disability Justice and also works on the staff of the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan. In that role, she practices relational care and community formation as she provides support and educational resources to individuals and families with epilepsy. As a trauma survivor and as a person who had epilepsy in childhood, her own experiences of disability positively shape her identity and vision. She brings values of disability culture, such as inclusion, interdependence, accessibility, and community care, into our life together at IRT.

In a time when there is so much upheaval and promise in our world, Renee Roederer is grateful to journey with our IRT Board, faith leaders, community partners, and every participant in our dialogues. Together, we will grow in relationship, action, and mutual support.

Image Description: Grass with tracks from a vehicle, exposing dirt. Above, is a blue sky with white, puffy clouds. Public domain image.

Zen Master and teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh, says,

Life is filled with suffering, but it is is also filled with many wonders, such as the blue sky, the sunshine, and the eyes of a baby. To suffer is not enough. We must also be in touch with the wonders of life. They are within us and all around us, everywhere, anytime.

This is the very first paragraph in his book, Being Peace.

He continues with these words,

If we are not happy, if we are not peaceful, we can’t share peace and happiness with others, even those we love, those who live under the same roof. If we are peaceful, if we are happy, we can smile and blossom like a flower, and everyone in our family, our entire society, will benefit from our peace. Do we need to make a special effort to enjoy the beauty of the blue sky? Do we have to practice to be able to enjoy it? No, we just enjoy it. Each second, each minute of our lives can be like this.

Do we have to make a special effort to enjoy the blue sky?

Truthfully, yes, sometimes. There are days when it may really be an effort. Perhaps today is a day like that. We may be struggling with ongoing feelings of sadness and anxiety. We may be grieving. We may be longing for a world that is more peaceful and just.

Sometimes, it probably does take a special effort — or at least, a special intention — to enjoy the blue sky. Or the sunshine. Or the eyes of a baby.

But we really can choose the intention to enjoy these too.

Thich Nhat Hanh does not teach people to put their heads in the sand. One of his primary teachings is that love is understanding — that if we want to love others and ourselves, we have to listen and understand one another’s suffering. This is so important.

And alongside that suffering, we can marvel at the joys and the beauty too. “Suffering is not enough,” he says. Joys and beauty can come alongside these pains.

Thich Nhat Hanh says, if we can enjoy and smile at these, we can embody peace — peace that will be made available to the suffering we and others carry.

So today, I put that wonderful intention in the world —
That we might enjoy the sky also.

–Renee Roederer

Image Description: A person with light skin, brown hair, and brown eyes looks into the camera while wearing a blue mask with small white flowers. Public domain image.

I’m angry that many people aren’t taking COVID-19 seriously.

This is causing severe effects on individuals, families, and whole communities. And some of it — in some places, even a lot of it — could be avoided if people would take this seriously. They haven’t, and some still won’t; here we are.

— I’m very close to a couple that lives in San Antonio. She works for the city government, and he is an Emergency Department physician. After the governor in Texas was determined to open quickly, and after he signed an order that cities were not permitted to take any action on their own to limit or close establishments and events, their numbers of cases and their numbers of hospitalizations are skyrocketing. And… people aren’t numbers. They are grandparents, parents, siblings, children, friends, and neighbors. They are people in their 30s who die unexpectedly and unnecessarily.

The door was opened for people to go about their routines with few if any limits, and people did it. Some workers are forced to do so economically; others are careless about putting workers and neighbors at risk. This has serious effects: Last week, the governor in Texas put a halt on elective surgeries in order to make more space within hospitals to treat COVID-19. Given the numbers, this is the right decision now, but it’s a situation that could have been avoided. Elective surgeries are not insignificant surgeries. To give only one example, I work with people who have epilepsy. For some, when they’ve become a candidate for epilepsy surgery, it’s because medications aren’t working, and they are having uncontrolled seizures. Without surgical options, some of these individuals are at risk for SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy). The surgery might not be life or death in this precise moment, but these individuals are living at higher risk when their surgery options are prolonged. The same is true, of course, for many other medical conditions. As my friend said, “How is it okay to keep people from elective surgeries (which are often medically necessary and important), yet it violates individual liberty to wear masks?”

This makes me angry.

— Closer to home for me, a couple of days ago, I tuned into the podcast This American Life, and I was surprised to discover they just released an entire episode spotlighting COVID-19 treatment at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit. At the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan, I work alongside a number of physicians, therapists, and staff at that hospital. I respect them deeply, and I felt that all the more as I listened to the care that people are providing within this hospital.

This episode told such human stories. It brought home several things that I already knew, but I felt them even more deeply: COVID-19 is a serious illness; it is impacting entire communities and cities at alarming rates, particularly among Black and brown people; and it is harming frontline care workers as some contract the illness and as many are traumatized by what they see. “I’ll probably have PTSD after this,” one physician said. They are running low on personal protective equipment, and they are devastated as they seek to provide comfort and dignity to people hospitalized alone.

This makes me angry.

— Yesterday, the CDC (Center for Disease Control) said an alarming statement. Before clicking on the article I saw, I shook my head at the title. “The CDC says U.S. has ‘way too much virus’ to control pandemic as cases surge across country.” This is not comforting. Here’s a quote from Dr. Anne Schuchat, principal deputy director of the CDC:

“We’re not in the situation of New Zealand or Singapore or Korea where a new case is rapidly identified and all the contacts are traced and people are isolated who are sick and people who are exposed are quarantined and they can keep things under control… We have way too much virus across the country for that right now, so it’s very discouraging.”

It is very discouraging, and this makes me angry.

You know me: I look things square in the eye and dare to be hopeful, though not unrealistic or pollyanna. We can have positive effects in each other’s lives. This is not the moment to become so discouraged that we to throw our hands up in the air and think we can’t make choices that save lives. We can.

But am I angry? Yes, I am.

When we don’t take COVID-19 seriously,
people die unnecessarily,
people survive with complications and new, life-long associated illnesses,
people can’t visit their loved ones in nursing homes and memory care, and
people die alone.

When we don’t take COVID-19 seriously,
people lose their jobs,
people are forced to work in ways that compromise their health,
people lose funding for the nonprofits and organizations that help, and
people can’t pay their bills.

When we don’t take COVID-19 seriously,
people stay isolated even longer,
people forgo touch and hugs (It’s been 100+ days since I’ve had a hug)
people cannot visit their families and closest friends, and
people develop mental health challenges.

Please take this seriously. Our actions and our inactions have huge effects on the lives of those around us, as well as our own. Social scientists have discovered that we are always impacting and being impacted by three degrees of separation. Our actions impact our friend’s-friend’s-friends, and our friend’s-friend’s-friends are impacting us. When you do the math (I’ll link more about this here –>) you impact on average 8,000 people every day of your life.

As much as we take this seriously, we also add real, tangible hope. We can care for our neighbors. We can care for ourselves. Yes, it’s a bummer, but stay home when you can. Wear masks when you can. It saves whole lives and whole livelihoods.

–-Renee Roederer

Did you know that many of the people who fought adamantly for the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA) met each other as teenagers at a summer camp?

I did not know this until recently. The story is told in the Netflix original film Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution. A group of disabled teenagers spent a portion of their summer at a very formative place called Camp Jened. Though they experienced a great deal of exclusion, discrimination, and isolation in their hometowns and local schools, they came alive in community with one another. It changed their lives and empowered them.

It empowered them much so that years later as adults, they blocked New York City traffic in wheelchairs, advocated fiercely for disability rights in Congressional hearings, and staged days-long occupation of legislative offices for the 504 sit-ins. The 504 sit-in in San Francisco lasted 28 days and is to this day the longest sit-in in a federal building. They just took over the place and shut it down.

And this amazing community of friends and chosen family met at a summer camp where they envisioned and enacted a new form of community. When they all arrived as individuals on buses at Camp Jened, they could not have imagined this. But relationships matter, and small groups of people can change the world. I take heart in this.

Change always has to start somewhere. Change always has to start in community somewhere. Here’s the trailer for Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution.

 

Support

A bunch of bagels of different flavors. Public domain image.

Hello, Dear Friends! Thank you for visiting Smuggling Grace and reading my daily posts here.  I’m committed to sharing my written content free of charge, and I hope that these pieces provide some hope and encouragement during challenging times. Once per month, for those who would like to support this work, I offer opportunities to contribute.

If you would like to become a monthly patron, I have a Patreon Page. Feel free to check it out. Or, if you’d like to give a one-time gift, you can do so here.

Imagine… with a small donation, you can provide the funds for a highly isolated, pandemic person to have bagels delivered joyfully to her house. Do you know how much this writer loves bagels delivered to my house?

Thanks for reading and commenting!

Image description: Two graphics with a white background with a red border and black text that features two quotes by @Mia.Mingus on Instagram: “Access is a practice of love when it is done in service of care, solidarity, and disability justice.” 

On Sunday nights this summer, I’ve been tuning into a series of webinars called Crip Camp: The Official Virtual Experience. These webinars are centered on Disability Justice and have grown out of the experience of the Netflix original film Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution. I recommend the film, and more about that tomorrow.

These webinars have been phenomenal, and if you’d like to learn more about what has been discussed, feel free to check out the hashtag #CripCampVirtual on Twitter. Tonight’s topic was, “Creating Our Community: Civic Engagement and Your Role in the Movement.”

And there was quite a surprise. A surprise guest. President Barack Obama showed up. He and First Lady Michelle Obama helped produce the Crip Camp film. He was present to talk about what he’d learned, and he invited people to ask him questions.

And as soon as he arrived, when it was time for him to greet everyone, he started with a visual description. He described the visual space where he was sitting, and he described what he was wearing. This was for those who are blind and visually impaired, as well as any others who could benefit from that description. In response to this simple gesture, people tweeted that they cried.

Accessibility matters. And it matters when people in power create accessible spaces of welcome. He also honored disability culture in giving that description. His presence and that gesture were both welcomed surprises.

— Renee Roederer

It’s also good to speak words of critique for collective learning. Later, I also critiqued his use of some creeping, ableist language when he started talking burnout and taking care of our bodies. “If you’re not healthy, you can’t help anyone,” he said. Wrong room. 🙂 Well intended, but that’s a good example of how casual ableism shows up in our language all the time. We’re all learning in this, me included.