If You Live With Chronic Pain You Are The Baddest Bitch On Earth. Literally Badass As Fuck. Also You

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'BUTCH MANIFESTO'

inspired by 'FEMME SHARK MANIFESTO' by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

(ID under cut)

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[ID: an original poem titled 'BUTCH MANIFESTO'. the stanzas are all on the left side of the page and lineated, except for the first line, and last stanza. Poem begins:

Listen up! Butches hold it down! We don’t spend hundreds of pounds on designer clothes and black and white tuxes – we shop off the charity shop rack, hand-me-downs from our bois, our men, our women. Butch is not a glamour word - Butch is not for the white collars in their 9-5 and their office parties, Butch is not for the woman in a police uniform with short cropped hair, Butch is not for the masc who looks down on our femmes, Butch is not for the dumbass white people who call themselves stud, like our people haven’t taken enough from black lesbians, Butch is not for the politician or the soldier, it’s for those of us who get shit done and don’t throw anyone under the bus; who stand between our loved ones and the white-knuckled fist; it’s for the people who take a breath of relief when they get home and get to lay their head on the shoulder of their baby and say, it’s hard, and I need you right now; it’s for those of us with hard-soled feet, worn by hours of standing, just so people can buy some useless shit on a Sunday. Butch is for the primary school teachers, the neighbour keeping your package safe, the hairstylist, the barber, the youth worker, the locked up, the sectioned, the evicted, the boy on the dole. Butches hold each other up, Butches stand up for communities, no matter how different we might be.

Butches stand up for Butches, because only we know the shit we face, we don’t argue over what butch looks like for someone - their struggle doesn’t counteract ours. We’re brothers, sisters, siblings, lovers, mentors, we don’t fight over femmes or fight each other. We help up our siblings who can’t hold themselves up and shouldn’t have to.

Butch is recognising our hurt, our pain, and making sure nobody has to go through that, in the very least not alone. Butch is not reproducing that hurt, butch isn’t the transfem exclusion, the toxicity, it’s driving our girls and boys to the abortion clinic, it’s holding your femme’s hair back over the toilet bowl, it’s telling your darlin’ to take a deep breath, before you poke the needle into her thigh, it’s holding back on punching the catcaller because you know it’ll put your lover in more danger, it’s fishing in your closet for an old, dusty dress for your questioning girl, it’s never calling the cops, it’s carrying the Narcan, it’s gathering the funds for bail, it’s tipping the waiter, it’s kissing the bruised chin of a fellow butch who’s built like a brick shithouse.

Butch is not all muscle, able-bodied, white Butch is not all skinny and androgynous Butch is care Butch is NURTURE. Butch is a cane and an unsteady step Butch is putting down the ramp Butch is wheeling up it Butch is addict Butch is straight-edge Butch is diaspora Butch is desi Butch is antiracist Butch is socialist Butch is punk Butch is black Butch is brown Butch is fat Butch is fat-loving Butch is mental illness Butch is antipsych Butch is autism Butch is trans Butch is anger Butch is tears Butch is grief Butch is the old bull Butch is the closeted kid in a dress Butch is the baby dyke wearing a rainbow flag cape Butch is smile lines Butch is crinkled eyes Butch is crying in your friend’s beat-up car Butch is foetal position Butch is pink Butch is motherhood Butch is fatherhood Butch is cat-dad Butch is fucking Butch is getting fucked Butch is stone Butch is bashful Butch is humble Butch is cocky Butch is proud Butch is single Butch is uneducated Butch is poet Butch is poetry Butch is council estate Butch is gentleness Butch is bones and spit and the soft curve of our lower backs the clenched jaw under a double chin the hard-eyes that any femme can see right through the estradiol the testosterone the carabiner clink the thick hands the cellulite the bloody pads the tampon string the mood swings the sagging tits the top surgery scars the swinging cock the hairy pussy the protruding t-dick the leather harness.

Butch is eternity Butch is sewn into the fabric of atoms Butch is love and solidarity Butch is never leaving anyone behind and never selling anyone out.

End poem. In the bottom right corner, the poet is signed as 'Ren H.' End ID].

Elaborate fantasies of owning a wheelchair save me.

Elaborate fantasies of owning a wheelchair?

Save me elaborate fantasies of owning a wheelchair.

Just made an account on Medium so I could read this. Made it about 1/3 through and I'm absolutely hooked and excited to finish it!! But first, time for a nap.

For the longest time, I have had trouble understanding FND - specifically whether it's just a shitty diagnosis made up by the medical system to gaslight people or if it's a genuine medical condition. This essay is rly helpful and has already broadened my understanding. It's incredibly well written, particularly bc of the extremely thorough research it's a result of

Medium

Cadenza for Fractured Consciousness

A Personal History of the World’s Most Misunderstood Illness

I am one of the most medically examined people in North America. For over a decade, no one could explain why I lost my ability to walk, speak, and use my hands. Why the lightning-like headaches? Why the ringing in my ears? Test after test came back negative. Doctors thought I might have a genetic abnormality no one's ever seen before, or a condition so rare that it had previously escaped medical classification. Then I got accepted to the top undiagnosed disease research program in the world, and they told me the only diagnosis I was unprepared to hear: it was Functional Neurological Disorder (FND), a much-misunderstood condition which was once known as Conversion Disorder, and before that, as Hysteria. And that was only the beginning of things getting weird. The essay above is the product of three years of research into the history, neuroscience, and politics of FND. It touches on the many medical failures that define the history of the disorder, the pervasive sexism and lazy mind-body dualism that prevented scholars from seeing it clearly, and why - finally - a better understanding may be at hand, with revolutionary implications for how we understand human consciousness and the experience of having a body.

FND fucked my life up. This is my reply. Thanks for reading.

I'm sorry, I'm trying

you will get up & you will make that to do list & you will be realistic about your limits & you will take it easy but steady & you will eat good food & you will get things done & you will move your body & you will do things that make you happy & you will limit your screen time & you will be the thing that saves you

people who are in pain don’t always look like they’re suffering. it’s especially common among chronic pain patients who’ve been ill for a long time, as well as autistic people.

going slack and moving as little as possible, including the muscles of the face, is in fact a sensible reaction to intense pain: it conserves energy. someone who looks outwardly relaxed or bored may be screaming on the inside.

if this is you, i just want you to know you deserve to be taken at your word when you say you’re in pain. you shouldn’t have to put on a fake grimace in order to give a convincing performance of what you’re actually going through.

if you have never experienced it yourself, please pass on this information so more people will be aware.

I forgot about this post. But I did it @wittlepuppydog. I didn't shave my head completely, I just got a short hairstyle instead. It was about 5 months ago now and I absolutely love it. It has made the pain considerably more bearable as hair is no longer brushing against my face constantly, and I no longer have to tie it up to get it out of the way (which also hurts).

Honestly, it's not even just about the pain. I feel more like me. I recognise myself in the mirror. I like my hair, I like my face - something I could never comfortably say before. It feels like my pain gave me a gift. I never thought I would say something like that about my chronic pain. But yeah, it has helped and I have never felt more like myself than I do now.

And people's reactions and their staring honestly haven't faced me. I don't care about it anymore. Also, it's hard to say whether they're staring bc of the hair or bc I'm young and disabled and walking with a cane.

Thought I'd add some pictures for reference;)

I've been considering shaving my head because of the pain. It's still constant and my hair makes it worse. Is it stupid? Will I regret it? Will I feel like I'm "giving in" to the pain? Does that even make sense? I'm tired of feeling like I have no control over the pain. And this feels like a way I can maybe at least not hurt myself more and gain a little control back? I don't know. I'm tired

Yeah, so where's my credit?🥺

Being chronically ill or having chronic pain is exhausting, but it's also normal for you after a while, so it's not really a bummer most of the time. It's just "oh yeah lol my hands usually feel like someone attacked them with small hammers" but you know, it's whatever.

That is, until one time you get up on the wrong side of the bed, or you're a bit hormonal, or too many other things go wrong, or you're just Sick Of It for a minute, and you completely break down and you can't stand the continuous discomfort, the tiredness, the pain, the having to remember medication, always keeping your guard up, dealing with risks day to day, watching your self care habits, not being able to work (and oftentimes having to anyway) etc etc. But then you're fine again and you go back to the small hammers and it's normal again.

It's tough living with that and never getting any credit for it, tbh