My Degree in Queer Crip Dreams
By Shivangi Agrawal
Last week I signed up for a new Disability Studies course in Delhi because I’m so passionate about learning new things, going to classes, thinking about everything critically and getting an education. But also, I would get to know so many disabled teachers and students from across India, something that I’ve craved since childhood. But alas, in academia and research, even Disability and Gender Studies, cis-het white/Savarna abled people’s feelings and views continue to hold the most value.
I always had a difficult time in schools, not just socially but also academically. It’s always been a struggle to score well; most of the time I end up failing or dropping out. As a disabled kid, this was more difficult because everyone expected that my mind would compensate for my disabled body. There’s a media trope where disabled bodies serve as inspiration porn, so that we can be more palatable for abled audiences. It applies to all kinds of socio-politically marginalized groups and is tied to respectability and iconicism.
Every time crips enter an educational institution, we are asking for a new way of teaching, learning and accessing knowledge. We are challenging the entire institutionalized system of education.
I’ve internalized these failures so much that I often felt it was the reason why no one wanted to be my friend. Every time I enter a new institution, I have so much hope of encountering new people, new experiences and new pedagogy. Maybe I don’t try hard enough or I become too critical, and therefore, it turns out to be the same old set up: competition, acquiring degrees, calculating success, and most of all…segregation. Where can I find the sad, lonely, angry, rejected queers and crips?
Every time crips enter an educational institution, we are asking for a new way of teaching, learning and accessing knowledge. We are challenging the entire institutionalized system of education. We’re fighting against a century old tradition of obtaining degrees. However, mainstream society has always been so afraid of change that they choose to segregate “normal” education from “special education” [for the crips] or they’ll separate our schools entirely. This extends to all other areas of our lives: building entrances, classrooms, bathrooms, transportation, the way people choose to have relationships with us; it’s all separated. So many abled people who call me a friend only hangout with me away from the rest of their abled friend groups.
In the current political climate of India, age old Hindu traditions and systems that are casteist, transphobic, sexist and ableist are suddenly what the nation state is all about. If anyone questions them or seeks to change them, or simply exists outside of them, then they’re imprisoned or killed. I guess that’s where all the sad, lonely, angry, rejected queers and crips wind up- locked up in institutions, hidden away, closeted, shut down, disguised and concealed from sharing their authenticity.
Although, bear in mind, that’s not where we remain. No matter how much we are denied opportunities and violently separated from mainstream societies, we have retained and preserved the knowledge from all our queer elders fighting for their rights from institutional prisons. Our crip ancestors who’ve left us so much information about the inevitability of revolution, how we can have a wild imagination about Disability Justice that university theories can’t even begin to make sense of. We don’t need Disability Studies from the perspective of old white academics and ancient degrees. We’re fashioning small communities in our bedrooms and taking our sweet time to process and appreciate the slow nature in which we move to challenge a fast-paced capitalist society. We are surviving and thriving!
About the author:
Shivangi (@DisabledSpice) is a disabled and queer activist and graffiti artist from Delhi. She works as a consultant, researcher, policy advisor, and facilitator with an emphasis on advocacy for disability, gender, sexuality and accessibility.
