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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
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housingworksbookstore:
“ (via Dear Able-Bodied Partner)
“Instead of putting my disability in a vice grip, accept that it takes up space. Don’t try to defeat it; that is neither possible nor your job. Reconsider the assumption that I don’t want it and...
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(via Dear Able-Bodied Partner)

“Instead of putting my disability in a vice grip, accept that it takes up space. Don’t try to defeat it; that is neither possible nor your job. Reconsider the assumption that I don’t want it and that you shouldn’t either. Because if you want me, you want it, too. There is no me without it…I don’t want to worry about whether or not you are afraid. I want to be all of myself. And I don’t want you to “love me anyway.” I want you to love me because." 

I absolutely love this essay from talented writer Carrie Wade. In @autostraddle today!

Source: autostraddle.com
fuckyeahautostraddle
Because we need our queer friends. We need the people who give us the space and safety to explore whatever it is we need to explore, without judgement or explanation. And we need those same people, who have been there, who have grappled with it all too, to remind us firmly and tenderly of any precipice they think we might be standing on — romantic or otherwise. We need people who also understand the singular experience of walking through the world as a queer woman. Carol and Abby are in this thing together. They share a perspective, a history, a struggle. They share a context.

I always felt nauseous trying to force physical intimacy with guys, even though I really liked the guys I dated. They were good guys! The last boyfriend I ever had (again, in my mid-20s), I told him that God told me that he didn’t even want me to do kissing before marriage. Like that God spoke to me the way he did to Moses from the burning bush, but instead of grand plans to free his people from enslavement, God just wanted me to know I shouldn’t put my lips on a boy’s lips. One night my boyfriend tried it anyway, and I threw up on him.

Cricket, it wasn’t Jesus. He hadn’t cast a spell on me to keep me from getting sin-fire in my loins. Possibly he also had not spoken to me to tell me to not to smooch a dude. I was gay, Cricket.

Source: autostraddle.com