I Survived Sexism. Ableism Took Its Place.

In high school, I fought to be the best at every boot-camp exercise our ex-Navy coach put us through during soccer practice. One day I laid flat on my back for nearly 15 minutes lifting my feet six inches off the ground because the coach said whoever kept their feet up longest could get water.

I won. I got water. I couldn’t walk the next day.

I heard my teammates describe what they did to (not with) their girlfriends as a matter of pride. I learned how to change into my uniform on the bus for away games without a sliver of upper thigh or chest showing.

I sometimes stuffed a sock in my shorts, I ran faster and hit harder, and I got angry that the referees refused to call fouls on me. The one time my coach smacked my butt after a good play, “Alright, Hill!” – it surprised us both; he’d forgotten I was a girl for an instant.

I was permitted to play on the boys’ soccer team, thanks to Title IX, because we didn’t have a girls’ team.

My teammates got by fine just being mediocre. I had to be twice as good just to be seen as OK. Continue reading I Survived Sexism. Ableism Took Its Place.

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To My Chronic Cat, Who’s Incurable. Just Like Me

Juno.

Last night I slid into bed next to you.

I formed my own blankets around the perimeter of your body so my covers wouldn’t be too heavy on top of you.

I slid a sheet over you and up to your neck and placed a stuffed sloth on your other side, so you’d feel safe, warm, and cocooned in love.

You were in the middle of the bed, stretched out from the tips of your furry Maine Coon paws to the fluffiest end of your tail, with your confused, exhausted face trying to find an acceptable semblance of peace and comfort within the echoey plastic orb of the protective cone around your neck.

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Juno the #SpondyCat. ©2018, property of BeingCharis

Your dissent collar, if we wanted to be funny. Continue reading To My Chronic Cat, Who’s Incurable. Just Like Me

29 More Gifts for Someone with Ankylosing Spondylitis

If you purchase something through a link in this post I may receive a small commission from Amazon.com or Zazzle through their affiliate programs. I am not employed by these companies and these opinions and recommendations are solely (and gratefully!) my own.


A small gift can make a big difference, especially as someone living with ankylosing spondylitis (AS). In 2017 I made a list of items and gadgets that help me live more easily. As my health worsens, I’m constantly discovering gadgets, so I made a new list. This can be a useful guide for year-round giving, not just during the holidays.

I use all of these products myself, so I feel comfortable recommending them, but that doesn’t mean they will help everyone living with AS.

One of the most damaging things you can do is try to help someone the way you think they need to be helped, without first finding out what would actually help. So ask some sneaky questions to find out if a certain gift would be welcome before you surprise your loved one or friend with a box of goodies you think should help them.

Pro-tip, include gift receipts so they can exchange things if need be. Even better if you include a funny card that says,

“You’re incurable, I’m clueless, so trade this stuff in if I missed the mark. After all, I can’t even pronounce your disease – you’re the expert of your body, and I just want to help. BeingCharis told me to write this.”

Continue reading 29 More Gifts for Someone with Ankylosing Spondylitis

The Doctor Will See You Now

It’s the season of dropping things, hips and elbows knocking door frames, “Will this flare ever end?” weeks, buckling knees on flat ground, brain fog competing with memories of the years when I felt younger than my age.

It’s the season of “But you don’t look sick, you look Great!” and “Have you tried yoga?”

It’s the season when, as soon as the door latches shut, the safety of our homes becomes the hell of letting our guards down, removing the mask. Our yoga is the inching off the bed on our bellies, gripping the prescription bottle to suck down a pill and doze for 30 minutes in half-inchworm-half-human-pose before grasping our walker to pee in the middle of the night with shuffle-steps amid stifling stiffness and the pain of partially fused joints that used to swim in the joint juice of cartilage. Chronic yoga.

“Yes, I already do yoga. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” Continue reading The Doctor Will See You Now

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a voice for many

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