The Power of words

 

I have been called a lot of things in my life

“epleptic”

“eppo”

“fit thrower”

“spaz Kid”

“Mentally challenged”

“violent youth”

“weird”

“useless’

“addhd”

Then a lot of Phd’s got involved and they said

“savant”

“Eidetic memory”

“gifted”

“champion”

Then the teens and the twenties came around and it was

“faggot”

“freak”

“homo”

“poofter”

“violent”

I started throwing out drunks on pub doors before I was old enough to get in myself, and I was winning martial arts comps and turning those skills into a security career on top of my cheffing on top of a dozen other thing because why do one thing when you can do ten things better? but one day I looked the  book being written in by my manager who got me protection work and next to my name it said-

“efficiently violent”

So I walked away and never did it again, I threw myself into entertainment but my manager said I was-

“gifted but troubled”

So then I figured the only way to throw the insults back at the world was to make them laugh so I had a career in entertainment and then I was

“funny”

“original”

“cutting”

“in your face”

“total package”

Then I came out and my family threw me away like old sneakers, my wife threw me away like last weeks trash  and my career went down the toilet thanks to a homophobic manager.

You see I had been raising myself since I was 12 or 14 , when I was 12 I was riding a bike 20 miles round trip to and from judo practice on my own, today that would be abuse, from 10 we were taught to do our own laundry and the first  person home at night cooked dinner for a household of 8  even if you were still in third grade, then at 12 I lied about my age (I was 6ft2) and enlisted in navy reserves it was one night a week, one weekend a month it meant I had to catch a train 20 miles each way every Friday night never getting home before 1 am on my own. my mother knew she thought it was good for me to be out on my own.

When I came out to the family my mother gave my brother the job of “beating the gay out of me” she told him do whatever was necessary, he broke my back but that was nothing new he’d been raping me since I was three.

I don’t share this so you’ll ll line up and go boohoo, if you notice the only words never used by anyone towards me was love. So for some whiny bitch to say I was born with the silver spoon in my life and was an over entitled fool hurt me more than any rape or beating or lack of care ever has.

I know those ponces, as I would ride up on my bike to judo after 20 miles mummy would be dropping them off in the bmw, yelling ”remember play nice” judo was a dalliance to them to me it was an hour or two without a relatives sweaty body on top of me.

Silver spoon? You know I have one and I cherish it, not because I was born with it but a because a head chef gave it to me as a tasting spoon as a reward for busting my ass 14 hours a day in a kitchen without airconditioning, learning not only to cook but at the same time the language so I could understand what was being taught.

Words cut worse than knives, the only people who don’t get that were born with a silver spoon in their mouth, they’re too busy verbally putting down people like me to realize the power of a  vocabulary.

I am proud of what Ella and I have because we sweated blood for every inch of it, I’m proud of the real friends I have because they’re still here through the good and the bad.

Bmw’s don’t excite me I’ve had a couple I rather have a pickup like we have now, big houses don’t excite me owning my own piece of desert does. The highest thrill I’ve had lately is  a lady called Samela telling me my blog post was a good piece because you see she is a world class journalist.

Life when it’s handed to you means nothing ,the people who know it’s value earnt their lives, my friend Samela was working in her dads bookshop as child, my cousins were running large tracts of Australia before they graduated school  and my Ella was translating bank loans for Russian relatives and family before she was 12 and a Public relations exec before she was 21 because she simultaneously did a degree and worked 60 hours a week.

So before you open your mouth next time to put someone down look in the mirror, look where you are ask yourself “did I earn one stitch of this?” if the answer is no mommy gave it to me shut up and listen.The person you were about to put down ,the hard worker , the blue collar person ,the self-made person can teach you one thing you’ve probably never encountered, humility because for them to achieve in your world they had to start at the bottom of the shit pile

Author: disabledaccessdenied

I am a disabled woman who through no fault of my own has wheels under my ass. I rely on the decency and common sense of local, state and federal goverments, as well as the retail community to abide by the disabled access laws and provide adequate ramps, disabled toilets, and not use them as store rooms or broom closets. This blog exists to find the offenders and out them, inform them, and report them if necessary and shame them into doing the right thing when all else fails.

1 thought on “The Power of words”

  1. This is EXACTLY why I love you. This is the heart of you that I met and knew existed from moment one and this is what keeps me in love. (among other things)

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