Once upon a time I was a good crip.
A good crip doesn’t get annoyed when strangers walk up and ask ‘what is wrong with you?’
Not hello. Not ‘nice day isn’t it? ‘ Just ‘what is wrong with you.’ They don’t really ask so much as they demand. Sometimes they put ‘do you mind if I ask’ in front but they mean it rhetorically. I know because of their reaction when I say yes.
A good crip ignores the two middle-aged, upper-middle class women sitting near her in the coffee shop pointing and sighing about how ‘ it’s just so tragic yet look at her sitting there having a coffee.’
Imagine that – why it’s almost like I’m a real person or something.
A good crip apologizes to her friends for ruining their plans for the evening and nods understandingly at the woman standing on the step in the…
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