7 | Black feminism and disability justice

A readthrough of Sami Schalk's 'Black Disability Politics'

In the unlikely event that I ever went back for a Ph.D, what would make the most sense would probably be an English degree, but what would really make my heart sing would be studying Black feminism. Every time I read a book or an article in that tradition, I find myself breathing deeper, feeling more, loving myself as I am a little more.

Sami Schalk's Black Disability Politics is a wonderful analysis of how the principles and activities of disability justice intersect with Blackness, despite not necessarily appearing to exist in Black spaces from a surface examination.

I was curious of this premise, since my particular experience being raised in a Black family confirmed this seeming invisibility. Growing up, I didn’t hear the word "disability" very often, despite health problems of all kinds running rampant throughout the family tree. “Disability" was a term reserved for someone who was completely incapable of caring for themselves, most often physically, though sometimes it was also an acceptable term for someone who was so far mentally impaired as to be routinely out of touch with consensus reality. Chronic health conditions like diabetes were not labeled disability; strokes and heart and kidney problems were not called disability; the need for and recovery from major surgery was not disability; nor was depression or anxiety or any other condition that flared up between periods of relatively average ability. But familial care work for disability and informal disability activism happened all the time.

Schalk does a deep dive on how disability justice, as conceptualized and embodied into identity by the early disability justice movement was not on face taken up by Black communities, despite their strong histories of activism, due in large part to language that didn’t resonate with where Black people were coming from. At the same time, she shows that there were important intersections and engagements with disability justice work happening anyway, through the later years of the Black Panther Party and through the work of the National Black Women's Health Project — it's just that these engagements were inextricably interwoven with Black identity, Black community activism, and Black culture.

I deeply resonated with Schalk's care and validation of Black women's experiences throughout the book. At the risk of generalizing, when I think of health and wellbeing in my family and in Black community as a whole, I think of Black women who have always fought for those states of being with their love and defiant joy (and good food) — whether or not that expectation and burden of care should ever have been placed on them. In my family, Black women were the ones most in tune to what people needed and most concerned with the question of whether or not people were thriving. It meant a lot to see a historical and contemporary analysis on what it means for Black women to not only take care of others, but to also truly take care of themselves and let themselves be nurtured in care. I hold several specific and dear women in my heart when thinking of this. I hold myself.

I appreciated that Schalk didn't gloss over complexities in her analysis. How it is true that spirituality is a critical empowerment factor for many Black women, while it is also true that the Black church has sometimes instigated harm and has often perpetuated patriarchal norms. How it is true that community-centered conceptions of health are important to a group that has been grievously harmed by the medical establishment and medical experimentation, while it is also true that there can be over-reliance on any wellness practice that means not going to a doctor, no matter how severe the issue. The realities of class oppression, hyper-policing/control of Black men, sexism and domestic violence, trauma of all kinds, queer discrimination, environmental racism, internalized oppression — all the barriers that make it difficult to pursue or facilitate good health among oneself or loved ones, even when you know what "should" be done to achieve it. When the responsibility is simply too much on top of everything else.

I love that Schalk uses the term "bodymind" after Margaret Price. I use this term all the time as well. It feels wrong to try and separate those two words in taking my internal pulse. I am a physical, breathing, living thing and I am a cascade of thoughts and feelings — both of these facets influence each other endlessly.

I’m excited to check out Schalk’s Bodyminds Reimagined at some point for an examination that brings in the speculative fiction realm. I think her work is the kind that sticks with you.