Cassie Q

Just a typical day in University, where a nice young man offers me help in getting out of the classroom, since I'm not rich enough to afford a motor. He then decides it's okay to criticize the metalic extension of my own body, because of course he has no clue of the kind of effort it takes to maintain a wheelchair as well as adapting it when new pains and new needs arrive, combining the work of occupational therapists, metalsmiths and others. Of course he has no clue, he's ju

I don't know about you guys, but I was raised to be polite. Manners above all. That's probably because, like I said before, people who don't belong in a minority simply don't see the world as a big boxing ring like I do. To them, a sweet old lady is just that, a sweet old lady, not the incarnation of a millenary oppression. But make no mistake, what might seem like an innocent question is, in fact, a form of violence, an attempt of communicating and maintaining their truth: t

The other day I went out to have dinner with my parents like I haven't done in a long time. We get to the restaurant and the tables that were wheelchair friendly (although they were more likely not designed with wheelchair users in mind), were located in a place that was not wheelchair friendly. I told my dad "oh we can just ask them to bring a good table out here", and so my dad asked the waitress if she could do that for us, to which she replied "no... I don't think so", le

This is actually an old drawing I had, about my short lived College Partier experience. Here's a friendly tip: Just because they look cool doesn't mean they are. Just because you share a major, doesn't mean you share values. And just because they advocate for inclusion, doesn't mean they mean it. In the end, the difference between college and school is just that the ways in which you achieve popularity gets more complex with the need to pretend not to care about it. #socialli

I don't know if others will relate to this, but I surely hope not. And I should clarify this doesn't happen all the time, not even most of the time, but every once in a while there's that subtle hint that I don't belong here, that I'm not as human as everyone else, that no matter how carefully I choose my clothes and my lipstick, I'll always be at the border, too foreign for others' gaze be able to reach mine. #sociallife #disability

Just a remind to make sure you have consent before touching someone’s body or things or business and possibly making them feel like a freak when doing something that to them is totally normal, or even unintentionally getting in the way and making things harder. Offering help is an amazing attitude, and one that feels remarkably different from forcing it for the one who feels it. And yes, I'm aware this is not a real word, but I felt like the English language was lacking it. S

So, sometimes when I'm talking to people about whatever, I notice Stephen Hawking's name being dropped without any rhyme or reason other than the fact we both own physically unusual bodies and a wheelchair. I'd like to make clear to the anonymous reader that, first of all, don't do that, it's uncomfortable to the unsuspecting wheelchairler to realize all you see is the wheelchair, and I'm pretty sure it's offensive to Stephen as well. Secondly, I feel no connection to Stephen

This is a story of how complete strangers manage to kill my mojo. I'm often described as naive by my more cynical friends. I think the world is just one big playground filled with beautiful human beings capable of amazing acts of love. And then a person walks to me, needing to know what I have. "Is it paralysis? It looks like paralysis". "No it is not paralysis". Keep walking, next chapter. Some people, if not most, take that extra step on rudeness and ask my mom what I have,

This could work as a prequel to the Red Story, because it has happened even before I could identify the feeling of herlessness. Many times I'd go out hoping to engage with people and have a nice time but nothing is quite enough, because no one is quite who I want to be talking to. Many times my own flesh looked surreal to me, as I had a vivid sensation of breaking into sharp cold pieces. The coldness from losing Audrey's sunshine and entering the world of the dead now repels

So the Holidays are getting closer, and given my long history of Christmas meltdowns, this year I promised I'd try to be as positive as possible. In honor of that, I am sharing this comic about a brighter side of my life. I'm sorry that it's not very Christmassy, but it's all the positive I could find, for now. Last week I shared a comic about being left on the outside of the normalcy bubble, and the pain it causes me to live so alienated from everything I wished to be a part