Tag Archives: Human Rights

A Poem Called “Humanity’s Rhetoric”

Humanity’s Rhetoric,

by theamazinJ

It’s my own rhetoric,
different from your own rhetoric,
different from the rhetoric of the nonautistic, normal condition,
different from American conditional rhetoric
harboring eugenics which is now called genetics,
but different than genetics and science,
different from worldly cultural conditional dominant rhetoric
in the mass media,
and the less accepted rhetoric I have known on my own
and what I learn recently
and try to communicate
is a part of a unique different rhetoric
affixed to complete,
affixed to infinitely affinity to yours and yours,
but it’s still different and unaccepted rhetoric
from the dominant discourse
many in the mass media,
many in politics,
and many of the lay persons even know…
my rhetoric, your rhetoric,
it’s all about being the human being
we all were born as,
it’s all about being the conditions
everyone wants to live by,
rhetoric of rhetoricity,
rhetoric rhetoric rhetoric,
echo it, echo your own,
echo the rhetoric you speak of
like everyone else does
if only to come to an understanding.
I live for my own,
while you live yours,
yours may be the dominant rhetoric,
while I am minority away from the dominant cultures,
embedded in disability culture
within my own body, my own thoughts, and the way I live
even as my own Autistic and stimmy and tic embodiments
experience the world
as part of my humanity
with my own way of centering myself,
with my own way I move,
with my own way of connecting,
with my own way of communicating,
and
with my own way of language
that many may not understand,
that many may not duplicate,
and that many may not know how to communicate,
because the rhetoric is different than yours,
different than theirs and different all around
both of us,
I love you, but the rhetoric is different,
even though the rhetoric we use
is different, but
it’s unique to both you and I.
The rhetorics speak for itself,
rhetorics are a part of the human conditions
in the being of being human
in the eternity of time to live.
I love you, but can you understand me
even when I don’t understand you,
and does it matter,
because if it mattered
my love for you and the world
would not be anything and everything
to me,
I love you, you and the rhetoric you speak of,
and the rhetoric different from you that I communicate,
but can we gather the ideas from our rhetorics
and finally understand each other,
if only with an open mind
like every other individual speaks
of their own rhetoric
around the world,
otherwise we would not be human.
Amen.

A Poem Called “Labels”

Labels,

by theamazinj

Labels are important,
they can be very powerful,
when one is called stupid
to when one is called crazy.
Labels are important,
they tell the kinds of things a person is.
Labels are powerful
when used
like when we are called Brilliant, Honest, or a Liar.
Labels can hurt or be very respectful
especially when using the words,
Racist, Ableist, Abuser, or even Loving.
Words can hurt, but they can also heal.
I love you. I hate you. I despise you. I am in awe of you.
Labels are NOT just for cans, they are for everything and everyone.
It’s why TAXONOMY exists, it’s why we always use them.
Labels are important.
I love you,
I hate you,
I filter you.
I am so in love.
I am so in anger.
I have anxiety for you.
Labels are important.
Labels are important.
Labels are important.
Labels help and can also hurt.
They hurt when we use the R word,
they hurt when we use the N word,
however, we spin a word around
and make it a different word with a different meaning
so easily.
Like for the R word, Rich,
and the N word, Neighborly.
When we think of words,
we need to think of the positive words
and the positive meanings
and when we want to criticize,
instead of saying,
Ableist or Racist or Misgyonist or Sexist or Heterosexist or even pervert,
we need to treat people with respect and positive their whole lives,
once we label a negative word to a person
it sticks with that person for life.
Life’s journey is saturated with labels,
it’s saturated with bigotry,
it’s saturated with misunderstandings and miscommunications,
So, does labels go on cans and people?
Of course they do, they do every day.
So, it’s labels important?
Yes, of course they are.
Labels were created because of TAXONOMY,
because of categorizing,
but we can label things giving people something to live up to,
or we can label things giving people a dark windy tunnel to run through
trying to find the light.
sometimes we have to realize,
Being disabled is a part of life and is not a bad word,
we have to realize being Autistic is a part of life too,
we have to remember being Neurodivergent is a part of life as well,
and that society’s so called ‘normal’ is derogatory
even when called ‘neurotypical’ now and even
the way everyone embraces that social construction of ‘normal’ or ‘neurotypical’.
TAXONOMY is important, and labels are so powerful,
Just think about the labels
and you can think about your life.
Labels that are given to and accepted by individual citizens
do in fact define a person,
so think about when you call a person crazy, stupid, insane, ugly, overemotional, or even irrational,
how much pain you may be causing someone,
and may be you may want to use more positive words about anyone,
like intelligent, creative, loving, caring, and even beautiful.
Words matter, labels matter, labels mean everything.
The social construction of ‘normal’ is important, but not very logical.
Just remember being disabled or being neurodivergent is a thing
everyone experiences.

A Poem Called “Autistic Rage”

Autistic Rage,

(Written after reading the article Blind Rage, in response to Helen Keller, by Georgina Kleege)
(This poem is something that is in the works for a poetry anthology I am doing for class for my masters program at CUNY. I am working on doing annotations for each part of this poem that requires an annotation which is why there is numbers associated with certain lines as well as 4 other poems I chose to annotate as well. I also used gender neutral pronouns so as to not identify. Since my natural tendency in writing is short bursts of words rather than longer sentences from my own Autistic language which is my own Autistic Poetics and my professor likes that. And, I will be filming this poem this week for my non-credit film class.)

by theamazinJ

My feelings of disability 1
come from the distinction of an honor,
but to many a tragedy,
from the way we see people generally,
to the way we converse,
from Kanner’s views of autism,2
to Asperger’s views of psychopathology, 3
to the beauty of movement
from the ideas of Tourette’s4
spilling out my gut,
without my insincere moment,
from the way Elephant Man5
physically felt stigmatized
and ostracized to the
way my moment of
my life lives.
To the way I fill the moment
of my influence,
to the moment of
how the intersection of
autism and Tourette’s
go hand in hand
even with dyslexia6
with the acts of disability
in American culture.7
My life is good,
stop and wonder,
my life is good,
I don’t care what you say,
I hurt,
I pain,
from your misunderstandings,
from your lack of empathy,
of your arrogance,
of your immaturity,
of your future of me one day,
when I surpass you.
I hurt,
I pain, I forgive,
I forget,
I argue,
I say,
Get Out,
Get Real,
Get images,
Get going,
I am me,
So get the hell out.

My disability of autism
is interesting.
My disability of anxiety 8
is a swirl of energy and rage
to be controlled.
My disability of movement
makes me move differently
than I am and you are.
I move with ease.
I move with fluttering hands and feet.
I fly my hands in the sky with flapping,
I shadow my feeling in the darkness.
I crawl into a hole.
My disability is discomforting.
My disability is not accepted.
I feel over anxious from
the already anxiety I feel
from society.
I feel I don’t love who I am
because I am not accepted
under this social standard, 9
this social construction society created, 10
and under every one telling me without
supporting me.
And, if I don’t want to be told,
that I am not supported by anything.
It’s control.
It’s life giving me serene beauty without
touching the beauty.
I love things, I love animals,
I always and sometimes love people.
I feel conglomerated
by society by the people
around me.
I need to be forgiven for I am,
yet, everyone wants
to change me for who I am right now.
I am, right now.
I cannot just be
I cannot just do
I cannot just say
I want to say
I want to do,
but in reality
i am unforgiven.
I am forgettable,
i am not working
like the way
They is worthy, 11
or
They thinks is worthy,12
or
They thinks they is the Queen,13
or
They
notes them and with pride,14
or
Them
exacerbates who they is
in a low key manner,15
or
They seems better
but really is not,16
or
They moves in to build peace
but cannot really17
or
They talks about sex
but takes it too far18
or
They passes with ease
causing more pain,19
or
the way Them projects who they are,20
or
Them uses their anger to shell out to others,21
or
They thinks the world revolves around them,22
or
how they thinks they can speak with AAC
even saying how proud they are of autism,23
or
even the way they takes on
how others feel and does not know their own,24
or even the way they attempts to
say Autistic men are more likely to be pedophiles
from an article from 2013,25
or how they thinks they can find causes
which they thinks can take away the pain
and cure autism even though that just
causes more pain in order to pass
and not be real,26
or even the way the anti-vaccine movement
thinks they knows everything, but knows nothing.27
or how every Autistic leaders feel,28
or autism researchers think about Autistics,29
because Autistic or not, I feel
humanity is real,
but humanity sucks
from the way we are all judged,
but humanity is not normal,30
and normal is done,
normal is succinct,
normal is seemingly joyous but
with eagerness to feel pain,
to feel suffering, to feel like less than,
but most importantly
feeling jerky,
feeling like a marshmallow,
feeling geeky,
feeling like I don’t belong
and everyone can move me
in the direction they want,
and my anxiety soars everyday,
every night,
and cannot stop
because everyone tells me and
no one wants to be told
and no one supports, but support is
good is better and helps a person
achieve self-determination,
achieving identity of largeness in my hands,
my long legs ache, my arms are in pain,
and I just feel like embarking on something special
as every other human being
is special, is unique,
and not more, not less,
and a part of the life
we live today.
It’s the way Neurotribes was written31
and even with In A Different Key,32
because Autistic history is real33
when it is really
the history of the Human race.34

(Happy Autism Acceptance Month 2017!)

The poems in order will be :

1) Autistic Rage poem
2) I am not retarded poem
3) I open at the close poem
4) Tyrant and Martyr poem
5) Poem of Apologies

(Now each poem will have annotations based on the readings I read this semester with other readings (books, articles) I have too.)

A Poem Called “To Please Yourself is to not think of anyone else”

To Please Yourself is to not think of anyone else,

by theamazinJ

It’s my life,
and no one else’s,
it’s my life,
even when people disagree,
it’s my life,
even if anyone disagrees with me
my whole life too,
it’s my life,
I choose things in my life
for a reason,
as an activist,
as a person who is
committed to human rights,
disability justice,
self-determination,
and with the rights
everyone has of supported decision making.
As a person who
does not like
the way the world is today
from the many discriminations
and injustices that are serving
everyone living today.
From the ideas of
the way society uses
the medical model
to hurt so many people,
and the way
everyone hurts,
not everyone understanding each other,
that because of this
there is disability culture
separate from non-disability culture
and because of this
I saddened to know
that from the two different cultures
not understanding each other,
universal design is not realistic,
and too ideal,
because there are
too many non-disabled people
who think of only themselves
and there are
too many disabled people
that are angry about this,
that can this war over words
really end?
can this war over words really end?
The war over words,
eventually leads to violence,
eventually leads to a tougher life,
and eventually leads to
everyone learning the hard way.
Our lives are good,
as human beings
we have the ability to love,
we have the ability to understand each other,
we have what it takes to serve justice for all,
but many do not want justice,
many are too complacent,
too complicit,
and many just want to live in LaLaLand,
while many just want to think about the medical model
without considering life
and what living life really is like,
even when someone gets a diagnosis,
even when someone seeks surgeries
for that diagnosis,
or even alternative treatments.
Some of these treatments
are imperative and can be fatal if not treated,
while other treatments
are a choice from the person, the individual,
to live their life treated to
live under the current social construction
as who they are without seeking to pass,
or live their life different than who they are
choosing to seek treatment to
pass and please people in society.
Everyone has their choices to make,
the ultimate choice is,
please yourself or please others,
and whatever you please,
there are consequences and rewards,
you just have weigh in on
the choice that best fits your life,
but remember this,
even when you are anxious over this decision,
asking too many people what to do,
and not relaxing and letting things happen,
you still must please yourself regardless.

A Poem Called “Society Meets the Activist”

Society Meets the Activist,

by theamazinJ

One day,
a long time ago,
in a far off place,
society met an Activist,
the first of their kind.
The Activist spoke out against everything society stood for,
I mean, everything, literally everything,
Talking about society’s social construction,
talking about society’s discrimination,
even talking about society’s lack of accommodation,
and when the shit hit the fan even more,
society’s idea of passing rather than being true to ourselves.
The Activist turns 20, then 30, then 40 and so on,
and every time the Activist says something,
they are bullied into silence,
they are told they are fake,
they are told to be quiet and let society just be,
they are told to not be loud and proud,
they are told to take a vacation or just leave society for good,
everywhere the Activist goes,
he wants to make a difference,
to show the society what Human dignity means,
what Human respect means,
and the ways everyone needs accommodating,
the way society can be accessible if they even try,
A long time ago before the first of the month,
society jumped in to vote for a sloth,
a man who would fight Activists,
a man who would say the work Activists have done was fake,
a man who created the term Fake News,
a man who marked war against the world,
a man who created fights between himself and every minority group
including the disability minority group,
especially those people who think and play and move and live differently than him,
a man who is a supremacist,
a man who hates Activists, but then calls himself an Activist for doing what he does,
Activists have gotten criticism for the work they do
and even from the very first Activist a long time ago
in a galaxy far far away,
because being an Activist is tough,
being an Activist is one of the hardest things anyone can do,
Activists make societies uncomfortable,
Activists make the leader of any society go crazy,
Activists speak out and then get hashed by society,
Activists ignore society’s words,
until the Activist actually passes on,
then everyone praises the Activist who spoke out,
and a day or memorial becomes real for the Activist who passed on
to one day everyone quoting them
even when everyone fought against the Activist while alive,
even when everyone took a stand that they would never do it,
however, the Activist took a stand, and now everyone listens,
and now, everyone sees what they said,
finally in the end,
The Activist looks down upon the society from the heavens above,
noticing this change, noticing this new embodiment,
and says to oneself with all smiles and chuckling:
“Now, they listen, really, now they really are listening
really, I am astonished, I am a star up here in the heavens,
shining down on them at night, and
when I could speak, no one wanted to listen to me,
thanks a lot to all thou, thanks to all thou”
As society takes on more and more giving and less trash talk
for what the Activist said, for every action the Activist conveyed,
and for every time the Activist fought them to be heard
exactly how they Activist wanted to heard,
So, continue what you are doing,
if you believe it,
someday it will happen.
Someday they will all listen,
even if it takes a lifetime.
Believe.
And Move forward.