Nuance

Written by Nour Mansour Illustrated by Peyton Poitras

I am not your monolith Of a white blued boy holding a choo-choo train you see A figure of innocence and purity that forever stays… No, I am a woman! With suits, ties, and fishnet thighs, My roots vast, complex, and ever-expanding.

I am not your inspiration fuel. Your tales of us sicken me, Equating my worth and existence to Earning gold-plated plaques for your benefit The thinly-veiled oppression of disability community Dripping from the edges of our accolades.

I will not stand to be the subject of pity on screens. Countlessly seeing glorified praise in news titles For the so-called Knight in shining “savior”

Who asked the disabled kid to prom, As if they had done us a favor? (You wish!)

Don’t you dare make a mockery out of loving me. My romantic affection, or otherwise, Is not your plaything.

And yes, I heard your gasps or subtle flinches at the notion Of me mentioning the notion of disability, Of wanting to be associated directly with it, Instead of denying and burying it like the walking dead. It is up to us how we use our labels, You have no right to my agency.

And no, don’t try to bury my personhood

With your stevia-sweet euphemisms

That our decomposed systems and roots claimed was better language, When they are centuries long systems Of eugenics, genocide, erasure.

Twisting of strings, Lack of nuance

Trying to claim our personhood, Which was never yours to begin with And it never will

But be sorely mistaken, those roots are ever-present Continuing to plague our society with violence and false narratives, And be sure, these rotten cores are not an illusion of the past — They are thriving right where you stand g