Ever wonder where your mind goes during a three-hour surgery sedation? I’m here to tell you I have an exquisite recall of the event. My surgeon begs to differ, but I briefed myself before the propofol ran wild, causing my left arm to freeze before blowing apart.

My manual communication went unnoticed as masked humans sliced new incisions and wrestled out the old implants. I could hear muffled voices discussing the scar tissue of eleven years of wear, just when my cancer was at a crossroads.

I wanted to clean up the room, jigsaw my arm remnants back into the shape of a limb, and drink coffee. I wanted to go swimming at Kepuhi Beach on Molokai, topless, skip my implants atop the water, and let the mermaids play dress up, ready to claim their identity.

That’s when the sea maidens gathered around my bed and took turns reconstructing my arm. Their luminescent eyebrowed tentacles chimed as they swayed around me, never hesitating to moan in a melody so comforting, so soothing, so indicative of their whale gods.

Before the tide subsides, I am welcomed into their nautical world. Do I leave this all behind? The scar-tissued implants, the diminishment of femininity, and the need for caffeine? They’ve transformed my arm into a fin, a sign of acceptance, a vice for survival, how can I not?

—

Want to read more from Suzanne Nielsen? Get your copy of Face Up: A Collection of Outlaw Poems today! Buy now on Amazon

You are also encouraged to listen to Suzanne Nielsen read from her recently published essay from Oleb Books’ latest title, Accessing Parenthood: Stories by and About Parents With Disabilities, during our virtual book launch party, posted on our YouTube channel.

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The children’s book Reese Has a Halloween Secret, written by Jo Meserve Mach and Vera Lynne Stroup-Rentier, with photographs by Mary Birdsell, is short and sweet — clocking in at just forty pages. The book tells the true story of Reese, a young boy with a disability who, with the help of his loving dad, creates a Halloween costume that includes his wheelchair.

Reese lives with a spinal cord injury caused by a cancerous tumor. He needs to use a wheelchair or a walker in order to get around.

Reese loves Halloween and he loves to build. As the story begins, Reese is excited about Halloween approaching. He decides that his costume should incorporate his wheelchair so he can participate in his school’s Halloween parade. His friends ask him what he’s going to be for the holiday, but Reese keeps it a secret. All will be revealed when the costume is ready.

Throughout most of the book, Reese and his dad work on the costume. Reese himself narrates the story, and there are photos on almost every page. The text is simple and to the point, making it easy for children ages 7-10 to read and follow along. The photos, which are in color, beautifully illustrate Reese and his father’s quiet determination to complete the costume. Their love for each other shines through.

Mach, the book’s publisher as well as co-author, spent 36 years as an occupational therapist. She is very passionate about sharing stories of children with disabilities.

Co-author Stroup-Rentier was a teacher who worked in the fields of early childhood and special education for 25 years. She has a Ph.D. in special education from the University of Kansas and currently works at the Kansas State Department of Education.

Birdsell is a freelance photographer and a former speech and Ttheater teacher.

Reese Has A Halloween Secret is published by Finding My Way Books, a company that shares the stories of children with disabilities. Mach spoke to us about what inspired the book.

“We were inspired by the realization that the Halloween holiday was becoming more and more popular so we wanted to make sure children with disabilities felt included,” she said.

According to Mach, it was photographer Birdsell who saw Reese and his father at a Comic Con she was attending. Reese was dressed as Captain America, and the wheels on his wheelchair were Captain America shields. Birdsell hoped to talk to them, but didn’t have a chance to. The following year, she attended Comic Con again and saw them.

“She told them about our books and they said they’d love to share their story,” Mach said. “They were very involved in the writing process, helping us to be as accurate as possible. They were happy with Reese’s book and bought many copies to share with family and friends.”

Mach reports that readers have enjoyed the book.

“I’ve had fun reading it to classrooms of kids who enjoyed following the clues with each chapter to guess what his costume will be,” she said.

Mach’s work as an occupational therapist has made her feel passionate about including people with disabilities and making Finding My Way titles accessible to everyone.

“We have been very intentional in the design of our books to welcome readers with disabilities,” she said. “The font is easy to read and large. The photographs help tell the story visually to help readers understand it. We have all our books in ebook format.”

Reese Has a Halloween Secret is a lovely book. It illustrates that any child, regardless of disability, can be part of the holiday fun.

The book is available in hardcover and paperback editions on Amazon (link to Amazon). The ebook edition is available in both English and Spanish on Kobo. (Link to English version and link to Spanish version)

For more information on Finding My Way Books, please visit their website at www.findingmywaybooks.com.

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Eight books have been chosen to be honored in the 2022 Schneider Family Book Awards — a prize that acknowledges the artistic expression of disability by authors or illustrators who created their work for child or adolescent readers. The awards are administered by the American Librarian Association, and were announced on January 24, 2022, during the association’s LibLearnX, which was held virtually from January 21-24.

Each winner received a prize of $5,000 and a framed plaque. Winners were selected in three categories: young children from birth through grade school, ages 0-8, middle grades ages 9-13, and teens, ages 14-18. The prize winners represent a diverse array of disabilities and cultures.

1. A Walk in the Woods

A Walk in the Words, written and illustrated by Hudson Talbott and published by Nancy Paulsen Books, is the Schneider Family Book Awards winner in the young children’s honor title. In A Walk in the Words, Talbott shares his own story about facing the challenge of being a slow reader. His love of language and his curiosity got him reading and eventually he became a storyteller, writing more than 27 books for young readers. In the words of his prize-winning book’s description, Talbott discovered he could “paint with words.”

2. A Sky-Blue Bench

A Sky-Blue Bench, written by Bahram Rahman and illustrated by Peggy Collins, was published by Pajama Press Inc. and is also a winner in the young children’s honor title. A Sky-Blue Bench tells the story of Aria, a young Afghani girl who’s excited about her first day back at school since her accident. But Aria is worried about sitting on a hard floor all day with her prosthetic “helper leg.” Aria knows that she will be more comfortable on a bench, and so she sets out to gather materials to build a bench for herself.

3. My City Speaks

My City Speaks won the award for young children. The book was written by Darren Lebeuf, with illustrations by Ashley Barron. Published by Kids Can Press Ltd., My City Speaks is about a visually impaired young girl who explores her city with her father. As they visit various diverse destinations, such as a playground, a community garden, a market and an outdoor concert, the girl describes the things she senses in poetic detail.

4. Stuntboy, in the Meantime

Stuntboy in the Meantime takes the prize for best middle grades honor title. Written by Jason Reynolds and illustrated by Raul the Third, this novel is the fanciful tale of Portico, a Black fourth grader who is secretly a superhero. As Portico tries to dodge neighborhood bully Herbert and deal with his parents arguing, he becomes Stuntboy, determined to save his neighborhood and his parents’ marriage. This book was published by Caitlyn Dlouhy/Atheneum Books for Young Readers.

5. A Kind of Spark

Also acknowledged for best middle grade honor title is A Kind of Spark, by Elle McNicoll, a neurodivergent author. Published by Crown Books for Young Readers, McNicoll introduces readers to neurodivergent girl Addie, who tries to get her Scottish town to erect a memorial when she learns that the town used to burn witches simply because they were different.

6. A Bird Will Soar

A Bird Will Soar, by Alison Green Myers, won for best middle grades title. The book follows the story of Axel, a bird-loving autistic child whose family nest is in danger of falling apart. Myers integrates poetry and science as she creates a character whose disability molds his identity. The book was published by Dutton Books For Young Readers.

7. A Face for Picasso: Coming of Age With Crouzon Syndrome

Taking home the Schneider Family Book Awards for teens honor title is A Face for Picasso: Coming of Age With Crouzon Syndrome, by Ariel Henley and published by Farrar Straus Giroux Books For Young Readers. Crouzon Syndrome is a condition in which the seams of the skull fuse abnormally, which affects the shape of the face and skull. Henley’s book is based upon her own experiences of coming of age with this syndrome.

8. The Words in My Hands

And finally, the teens award winner is The Words in My Hands, which was written and illustrated by Asphyxia and published by Annick Press. Set in a futuristic Australia, Asphyxia introduces readers to Piper, a deaf teen, as she searches for her identity.

Learn More About the Schneider Family Book Awards

The 2022 Schneider Family Book Awards committee is headed by co-chairs Suan Hess, a retired New York City school librarian, and Mary-Kate Sableski, an associate professor at the University of Dayton in Ohio. Other members of the committee includ Cathy Andronik, Betsy Fraser, Ashley Mensah, Rachel G. Payne, Sharon Powers, Scot Smith, and Alyson Beecher.

All prize-inning books are readily available for purchase at Amazon.com.

The American Library Association has been the voice of libraries for more than 140 years. They support library professionals and the library’s role in ensuring access to information and in increasing learning. For more information on the Schneider Family Book Awards and other programs and activities of the association, please visit https://www.ala.org/.

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I’m an artist living with schizophrenia. I’ve been open about my illness since it began. I’ve painted my hallucinations, spoken on panels and with the press. Since I gravitate to drawing my experiences, the progression to creating a graphic novel felt natural to me. Still, for many writers with disabilities, the process of adding illustrations to prose could feel like a daunting task. While putting a graphic novel together takes time and dedication, with a little planning, it can be done. Here are a few tips to consider if you are contemplating this form of storytelling.

Tip 1: Get feedback

I talked about my illness for years before I wrote any of it down — like beta testing, one could say. I’m also queer, and sharing about life with schizophrenia was a lot like coming out of the closet. Once out, I was out. Then I started putting it to page. 

I shared my graphic novel idea with friends. They loved it. Friends always do, it seems. Positive feedback is important. It keeps me going. While I know that my friends are biased, I pay careful attention to what they understood, and learn from their reactions.

Tip 2: Set boundaries

You must ask yourself, what am I comfortable revealing? A lot of disabilities are more visible than mental illness, but not everything is easy to write about. Like any memoir writer, you need to decide what you want to put out for the world to see.

Tip 3: Fine tune your sketches

While I’ve told my stories many times, writing them out wasn’t easy. I’m a visual person, so I tried to first draw the whole thing. It didn’t work. I had to adjust the form I wanted my story to live in. I developed the style of pictures and how they reflect my words. If you’re not comfortable with drawing, this is the point when you would look for an illustrator. You would look for someone whose style of drawing fits the personality of your story.

Tip 4: Finance your graphic memoir project

I wrote a grant proposal. This forced me to clarify my story idea. It also pushed me to create an outline and to build a process, and my process was bullet points and lists. I made a list of what happens in the chapters. Sounds easy, huh? I’m tricking you. It’s not. But it was the easiest way for me to move forward with my project. This is where I tried to figure out the story’s arc, the beginning, conflict, climax and resolution.

I know this process seems obvious. Yet it was the grant application that got me to focus. I needed to know what I was going to draw before drawing it, and the questions got me to follow a path. As I got organized, I found that it’s easier to backspace on a computer than ink on paper. Even drawing digitally, I suggest writing first. Initially, my writing looked more like a sloppy script than a polished manuscript, but it was for my eyes only. My first draft had ten chapters. My sixth draft had seventeen.

Tip 5: Find a mentor

The grant allowed me to work with a mentor. Our first meeting, he asked me to explain my story. I did, yet he had no idea what I was talking about. I had to develop a pitch that summarized my graphic novel in no more than three sentences.

Here’s what I came up with for my graphic novel: Crazy Like a Fox: Adventures in Schizophrenia is about a fox trying to survive their first year with the diagnosis. I pull from my experience of symptoms, visiting hospitals, being betrayed, and becoming homeless. I use humor to approach a difficult subject.

While finding a mentor isn’t easy, another option is to have a more seasoned graphic novelist available to run questions by. In some cases, this may have to be a consultant you hire.

Tip 6: Create a drawing schedule

This is tedious, but my favorite part. Having a regular time to work on my drawings helped me to dive deep into the project. It made it possible to build relationships with my characters.  For instance, my protagonist is named Fox. The doctors are drawn as sock puppets. Fox’s nemesis is a dodo bird. I chose to draw creatures and not people because it added a comedic element, it’s fun and it fit the story. This process also helped me realize that words should not describe what happens in the pictures. They need to add something that’s otherwise missing.

Tip 7: Edit your work

I had written the screenplay, had hired the actors, now it was time to direct! Look at your panels and think of different camera angles. See? I told you it’s not easy. Every page and every panel within the page is a composition. When I edit my drawings, I take into account how things are arranged on the page. People read pictures left to right, top to bottom. People pay attention to the words more than the pictures. So be sure your word bubbles are placed so it’s easy to tell in which order to read them. I learned to have consistent handwriting. I wrote every letter in uppercase except the letter “g” because I don’t like the way capital “G” looked. Some computer programs allow you to type the text, I didn’t go high-tech.

Tip 8: Put together a review team

I got a second, third and fourth opinion. I had friends read my thumbnails. I joked that I was writing a book by committee. That’s not accurate. I love show and tell. I love hearing the LOLs. I know I’m doing something right.

This part of the process helped a lot with my first draft. It made me realize that my drawing and storytelling style had changed since I started the project.  For example, there were characters that deserved some background information, like why is Fox’s nemesis so mean? I had to rewrite and redraw to make the book more cohesive. So, yes, I sat down and drew the whole thing over with changes — one page at a time.

The bottom line

Putting together a graphic novel or memoir takes a lot of time and dedication. And in closing, I encourage anyone attempting this storytelling form to not look at the first draft as the final one. I learned that from all the writers I’ve known over all the years. It’s like painting in layers. It takes patience but in the end, you’ll have something beautiful to share with the world.

Christi Furnas is a queer cartoonist, illustrator, oil painter, and disability advocate living with schizophrenia. She has exhibited in galleries across Minnesota and in New York. Her mini-comic Crazy Like a Fox: Adventures in Schizophreniahas sold locally, nationally and internationally. She currently lives and creates in Minneapolis with her wife, two cats and dog. You can learn more about Christi’s work at www.christifurnas.com.

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I didn’t know my son Sebastian until he was 15. That was the year we had our first real Mother’s Day celebration. We lived in the same house together for 15 years, so don’t misunderstand. I gave birth to him. I changed his diapers and taught him to ride a bicycle.

I was a stay-at-home mom, and he was my only child, but I didn’t know him. We spent hours together every day playing and doing crafts together. He painted the most extraordinary pictures, even as a toddler. His existence filled my imagination from the moment that I looked at the faint blue positive mark on the pregnancy test, but I still didn’t know him until he was a sophomore in high school.

Now Sebastian is 18, and every time he hugs me I can still feel the shell of his tiny newborn ear against my lips and his infant body in the nook of my shoulder where his chest meets mine. I always inhale, trying to recapture that baby smell and the tickle of almost invisible hair on my lips. His hair is now thick and smooth, not the dandelion fuzz of pale blonde.

He still hugs me every night before I go up to bed. Even after everything, especially after everything, Sebastian tells me that he loves me. Now taller than me, when his long arms reach around my shoulders and he leans in for the hug, I can still feel his little sneakers banging my hips and his little toddler arms hugging my neck. I smell the ghost of Cheerios past every time. I hear his child’s voice whispering,”You are the best mom in the world.”

In the car when we talk about the things we’ve been through together, about how I finally came to know him when he was 15, I reach my hand out to him. Sebastian’s cool, long-fingered artist’s hand lands in mine, squeezing. In his gentle adult grasp, I feel the ghostly hand of a child in mine, much smaller.

I cherished every sweet moment with him. Every hug, every smile, every game of hide and seek. I rocked him to sleep each night when he was little. We read aloud together until he was 12. He still hates Les Miserables. Tolkein was more his thing, with the dragons, wizards and the magic ring that makes you invisible, but also drains your soul.

What magic ring did Sebastian have that cast its spell so thoroughly over him, that it silently saved him while killing his soul? Surely it was not the cloak of invisibility that he wore all through his childhood as he zoomed through my house waving his wand. He was Darry, King of the Fairies and Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He cast his charm all over so thoroughly that I didn’t see him. I couldn’t see him.

Nobody saw him. You see, Sebastian is the only person in the world known to see with words like a dolphin sees with sound. His blindness is an invisible disability. He has always slipped through our sighted world with what appeared to be the same ease as a spinner dolphin flying through the air.

I remember his eyes, so bright blue and filled with pain as we both sobbed on the kitchen floor. It was January of 2017 and we had just discovered that 15-year-old Sebastian couldn’t recognize his own face and had taught himself to navigate our own home by counting his steps and turns. I had to tell him that he’d been born blind, not understanding how it was possible myself.

Now I am privileged to see the man who walks through this world with dignity and grace. His dry, laconic humor cracks me up, and his striking art inspires me. With his help and support, I am fighting to end the discrimination against the millions of people who have cerebral/cortical visual impairment. CVI was identified as the number one cause of visual impairment in the developed world more than 10 years ago and still doesn’t have a diagnostic code. On Sunday, May 10, 2020, I will celebrate my fourth real Mother’s Day as Sebastian Duesing’s mom. I was always his mom. I just didn’t see him.

Order Stephanie Duesing’s book, Eyeless Mind: A Memoir About Seeing and Being Seen, on Amazon!

Stephanie Duesing is the author of Eyeless Mind: A Memoir About Seeing and Being Seen, a true story about the discovery of her son Sebastian’s almost total blindness at the age of fifteen.

Stephanie is devoted to raising awareness of Cerebral/Cortical-Visual Impairment (CVI) and advocating for patients with this prevalent but largely unacknowledged cause of visual impairment.  A music educator, Stephanie has taught elementary and middle school music and chorus, as well as private voice and piano. She also opened her own Musikgarten studio, where she taught classes for families with babies, toddlers and preschoolers. She’s a graduate of University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and lives in the western suburbs of Chicago.

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Not quite seeing or hearing artist and author Terry Galloway ambled through early childhood with mixed emotions. On one end, she was arrogant. In fact, she would even describe herself as “a little shit,” yet she also sought physical approval from the people around her.

“My deafness,” she said, “even before it was diagnosed, made me cleave more to others for a reassurance that I wasn’t quite aware I needed.”

When Galloway was 10 years old, doctors discovered she had a chemical imbalance caused by the introduction of drugs to the fetal nervous system, a result of medication her mother took while Galloway was in the womb. Ultimately, the reaction to the treatment left her deaf and with limited eyesight.

“I was saddled with glasses and hearing aids, and my deafness manifested itself then as a savage insecurity,” she said.

“I was mainstreamed,” Galloway, 68, continued, “and grew up not knowing any other kids who were deaf or Deaf. My own deafness, and my budding, constantly churning sexuality, made me feel warmer toward the kids with their own problems — kids who liked to dress differently, kids who were poor, kids who were too fucking smart for their own good, kids who felt uncertain about their sexualities, kids with disabilities — both hidden and visible. I identified with those odd ducks. When I was in my late teens, I met some other kids who were ‘big D’ Deaf. I admired the hell out of them, but they frightened me a little — they were tough. But then, they had to be.”

In her book, Galloway explained big D Deaf.

“There is a definite hierarchy in that deaf culture,” she writes. “If you are deaf of deaf — a deaf person born to deaf parents — and your language is Sign and the company you keep is primarily deaf, you are Deaf with a capital D.”

With plenty of experiences to draw from, Galloway plunged herself into the arts, and just like many young people with disabilities in the late 1960s, she faced a lot of discrimination.

“When I was graduating from high school, the guidance counselor was advising all my friends who were in the Thespians of the Scarlet Mask to apply for Yale, or UCLA, or any college that had a decent drama department,” she said. “But when I walked in the door, he took one look at me and said, ‘Oh, you’re the one.’ And handed me a brochure that read, errors and all: ‘Factory work make good job for deaf.'”

Like many LGBTQ and disabled people of that time, Galloway carved her own path into the arts. With the help of friends, she sought out or created spaces that would welcome people like her.

“Places with people who didn’t think of me as a waste of time because I couldn’t hear or talked with a kind of muffled lisp,” she said. “And from there I started to write pieces that spoke to the experiences of people like me — that’s when I started doing my solo shows.”

In 2009, Galloway published her memoir, “Mean Little deaf Queer,” which has become a cult classic among people with disabilities. Celebrated lesbian author Dorothy Allison called it “a damn fine piece of work that is unbelievably powerful.” Author Kenny Fries included it in his article on LitHub titled “8 Books That Move Disability from the Margins to the Center.”

“She gives us what we are rarely given in literature: a fully dimensional disabled person, warts and all,” Fries said.

Just a year after the release of her groundbreaking memoir, Galloway received a cochlear implant — a process not all deaf people are eligible for. And even Galloway herself was initially unsure it would work. The surgery allowed Galloway to gain significant hearing and her latest show, “You Are My Sunshine,” is about her experience of negotiating the world of sound.

Galloway identifies as being a “little d” deaf, omni-sexual, happily married, female-ish artist/activist. Along with her partner, Florida State University communication professor Donna Marie Nudd, Ph.D., she splits her time between Austin, Texas and Tallahassee, Florida.

The couple also co-directs the Mickee Faust Club — an arts nonprofit that creates performance opportunities for marginalized communities through workshops.

“I love Mickee Faust,” said Galloway. “I love playing the head rat, Mickee Faust, who is supposedly the sewer dwelling, cigar chomping, beer guzzling, foul mouthed, rat bastard brother of that other more famous unctuous rodent in Orlando.”

To learn more about the Mickee Faust Club, visit http://www.mickeefaust.com. To follow Galloway’s other projects, check out www.theterrygalloway.com.

Belo Cipriani is an award-winning author and prize-winning journalist. His new book, “Firsts: Coming of Age Stories by People with Disabilities,” is now available. Learn more at www.belocipriani.com.

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Some books become classics because they bring to the forefront new ideas, while others are imprinted in our consciousness because they shine light on a little known world.

Resistance and Hope: Essays by Disabled People, edited by Alice Wong, is one of those rare anthologies that both highlights new ways of examining disability, as well as raises the profile of the disability community. Wong, a San Francisco-based disability rights activist and journalist, has gathered 16 essays from some of the leading voices in disability advocacy, to shed some light onto disability issues in the Trump era. While several of the authors identify as members of the LGBTQ community, for this column, I have chosen to focus on three of my favorite essays by LGBTQ contributors; however, all of the essays in this collection are worth reading.

“Hip Hop and Disability Liberation: Finding Resistance, Hope and Wholeness,” by DJ Kuttin Kandi and Leroy Moore:

“If we, as a hip-hop community can face our own internalized ableism as we confront institutionalized ableist systems, we can find truth in our futile search for hip-hop ‘authenticity,'” the authors write.

Like a hailstorm, Kandi and Moore deliver a slew of examples of ableist behavior by some of the leading voices in hip-hop. They offer criticism, but also ideas on how hip-hop as a community could be more inclusive of artists and fans with disabilities. The result is a poignant essay that captures the struggles and hopes for hip-hop.

“Building Back Belonging, Hope and Possibility,” by Mia Mingus:

Mingus writes, “Resistance is only as powerful as what it is in service of. Resistance by itself — resistance just to resist — is not meaningful and will lead to burnout very fast. It’s when resistance is in service of something larger than itself that the true power of resistance is unleashed.”

With sharp prose, Mingus shares how her own journey shaped her advocacy work. As someone who helps people who have experienced violence regain belonging, Mingus discusses the process of cultivating hope in a world that spills a lot of hate. This thought-provoking essay offers optimism, as well as a model for contributing to social causes during challenging times.

“Back into the Fires that Forged Us,” by Shain M. Neumeier:

“For one, many Americans have an authoritarian streak, or at least concede that even extremely harmful forms of authoritarianism are legitimate or necessary, either out of genuine belief or for political gain,” Neumeier writes. “This includes many of the very people who use the rhetoric of freedom and independence, at least where it concerns guns or the right to emotionally abuse others.”

Neumeier’s expository essay examines the criminalization of resistance to injustices by marginalized communities. It highlights the participation of the media, government officials, and civilians in inflicting abuse in the name of American freedom. Well-cited and narrated, this piece looks at how the law has been used to hurt underrepresented groups — especially the disability community.

Resistance and Hope is a quick read that not only brings the reader a deeper understanding of disability discourse during the age of President Donald Trump, but also offers people with disabilities and their allies a guide to joining the disability justice movement at many levels.

You can grab a copy of Resistance and Hope: Essays by Disabled People on Amazon. (Please note this is an affiliate link. By clicking this link, you consent to us placing a cookie on your browser for commission purposes. Thank you for your support!)

Other contributors to Resistance and Hope include: Vilissa Thompson, Victoria Rodriguéz-Roldán, Anita Cameron, Stacey Milbern, Naomi Ortiz, Talila A.”TL” Lewis, Aleksei Valentín, Cyree Jarelle Johnson, Lev Mirov, Lydia X.Z. Brown, Mari Kurisato, Maysoon Zayid, and Noemi Martinez.

Belo Cipriani is an award-winning author and prize-winning journalist. His new book, “Firsts: Coming of Age Stories by People with Disabilities,” is available through every online retailer. Learn more at www.belocipriani.com.

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On a chilly November afternoon in 2008, I tapped my white cane down Shattuck Avenue in Berkeley, California and entered Pegasus Books. At that time, I had only been blind for a year, and often found a lot of my questions about disability answered by disability stories.

A charismatic woman greeted me, and I explained I was looking for books written by people with disabilities. “You want Crip Lit,” she said, helping me walk to another section of the store.

While Crip Lit allowed me to put a name to the genre of books I wanted to read, I quickly noted that it was a term not used by everyone in the disability community. Moreover, it was a label the publishing and arts communities did not want to use. Thus, I began to use D Lit to describe narratives about disability that were written by authors with disabilities. Now, 10 years later, I am the founder of Oleb Books — a publisher of D Lit.

But whether someone calls it Crip or D Lit, no one can ignore this genre is growing. It is now a literary category of its own, and several organizations are helping to drive it.

Deaf and gay writer Raymond Luczak is the founder of Squares and Rebels — a queer and disability press based out of Minneapolis. He said that he started his publishing house because he felt as though it was time for newer disability and queer titles.

“I’d noticed that more than a decade had passed since Bob Guter and John R. Killacky’s ‘Queer Crips: Disabled Gay Men and Their Stories’ was published. Wasn’t it time for a new queer disability anthology? Indeed it was,” said Luczak.

Luczak went on to publish “QDA: A Queer Disability Anthology,” as well as several other titles, through Squares and Rebels — helping many LGBTQ and disabled writers find an audience. When it comes to the publishing industry at large, Luczak believes disability is not considered chic; he even had a literary agent tell him it does not sell. Still, he believes it is important.

“Disability challenges the many ableist assumptions about the world we all live in, and in order for the world to become a better place for everyone, we need more stories about disability out there,” he said.

Queer and disability advocate Corbett O’Toole co-founded Reclamation Press — a publisher exclusively publishing authors who identify as having at least one disability. Like Luczak, O’Toole recognized there was a need for more disability books.

“Although one in five people living in the U.S. have a disability, less than 0.003 percent (one-third of 1 percent) of the 22 million books sold on Amazon are related to disability. There is a huge need for books by disabled people where we can share our ideas in both fiction and nonfiction forms,” O’Toole said.

“We know,” continued O’Toole, “that there are many people with disabilities writing extraordinary works. They might be crafting a science fiction world with a genderqueer, autistic lead, such as ‘Troubleshooting’ by Selene dePackh, or exploring ways to nurture ourselves while doing social justice work, such as ‘Sustaining Spirit’ by Naomi Ortiz.”

Since its launch in 2017, Reclamation Press has published three books with the help of donations, and has a list of projects it is seeking funding for on its site at www.reclapress.com.

Katherine Schneider, Ph.D., founded the Schneider Family Book Awards, with the American Library Association, to celebrate disability in children’s literature. The award came about as a result of her own experiences growing up as a blind child in the mid-20th century.

“In the 1950s, when I was in grade school, the only media mentions of blind people were of Helen Keller, Louis Braille, and the seven blind men who went to see the elephant — other disabilities fared no better,” she said, referring to the parable. “Fifty years later, the situation had improved somewhat. But the stories were often one-dimensional, still with an inspirational character with a disability overcoming the disability as the plot line. Since I established these awards with the American Library Association 15 years ago, the number and quality of books has greatly improved.”

Schneider pointed out that able-bodied writers do not always get disabled characters right.

“I think,” she said, “they sometimes graft their new-found knowledge of a disability onto the character, rather than having a character whose identity includes the disability. For example, they make sure the blind child has a talking computer, but don’t have the depth of understanding to know that emoji are sometimes misread, websites are not always accessible, workarounds have to be found, etc.”

In 2009, Laura Perna and Susie Angel launched the disability-writing contest Pen 2 Paper (P2P), as an arts program of the Coalition of Texans with Disabilities. The competition accepts submissions of fiction, memoir, and poetry, and has grown into a global forum for writers with disabilities. Each year, hundreds of writers submit their work for a chance to win a grand prize, which in 2018 was $500. In addition, the contests give writers a chance to share their work with a large group of readers who are looking for disability stories.

“People who are able-bodied (ABs),” said Angel, “often think that people with disabilities are suffering through life and they aren’t capable of contributing to society. Through reading stories written about, and by, people with disabilities, ABs can learn how people with disabilities see themselves, and realize that there aren’t as many differences between the two groups. …”

Angel believes not every disability story is meant to teach anything or benefit anyone.

“Sometimes disability writing has no other purpose than to entertain,” she said.

Now, people can use the hashtag #DLit to share their favorite disability books on social media.

Belo Cipriani is an award-winning author and prize-winning journalist. His new book, “Firsts: Coming of Age Stories by People with Disabilities,” is available through every online retailer. Learn more at www.belocipriani.com.

The post Disability Literature: The Rise of D Lit in Publishing appeared first on Oleb Books.

Our debut title, Firsts: Coming of Age Stories by People with Disabilities, was released in October 2018.

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