Hot Bua Era, Infantilization of Disability & An Album That Slaps

Sending love & peace

Hi guys,

I feel ridiculous writing about pretty trivial, selfish topics amidst what is happening in the world right now but hopefully it will give your mind a needed distraction. And I recognize our collective privilege in being able to look away. Sending love to all from a breaking heart.

In My “Hot Bua” Era

Ok, not really. But my friends like to joke about this exact phrase because of my new found love of wearing crop tops and cutout dresses. And my niece calls me ‘bua’ which means ‘aunt’ in Hindi, or more specifically, ‘dad’s sister’. I’ll try to explain where this new found love of crops comes from, although, I don’t quite get it myself.

So, I don’t really know what I look like. I don’t look in the mirror often, and if I do, it’s just of my face in the bathroom mirror. But last Christmas, Shiwani got me a pretty pink dress with a side cutout. I thought to myself, there’s no way I can wear that—I don’t have a flat stomach, especially in a seated position. But I tried it on just for fun and looked in my full-size mirror. And there I saw it: a tiny, well-defined ab muscle peeking out of the cutout in my dress.

I was shocked and a bit exhilarated because I had never had anything close to abs in my entire life. I didn’t realize that all the work I was doing in therapy was toning my body—I didn’t have enough neural connections to make my arms and legs function properly but I had enough neural connections to get some definition in my muscles. So weird, right?

I’ve spent the last fifteen years being so ashamed of my body and now I have this one little thing I can be proud of and the one thing I have total control over. I even posted a photo on Instagram of me in a bikini—I had never worn a bikini in my life before that point. And if I had, I would have never, ever posted it. But this confidence feels ironic or oxymoronic or hypocritical or something, somewhere in between—I have three very visible scars, I’m always sitting scrunched in a wheelchair, my hands lie limply in my lap, but I choose now to be the most comfortable in my body? The juxtaposition causes a cognitive dissonance I haven’t managed to unpack yet.

But for now, I’m going to enjoy it. Crop tops are too cute, in fashion and actually more functional for wheelchair users because there’s less material to get caught in the wheels or underneath you. So it’s a win all around. 😎

Infantilization of Disability

I was leaving therapy one afternoon and I saw a woman staring at me and saying, “Awww!” I ignored her and looked towards my trainer who had just asked me what I was doing that weekend. I started to reply, “My friends and I—“ and I heard the woman again say “Awww!” I ignored her again. When we were outside, my aide said, “That woman told me she thought you were so adorable!”

Adorable. I get that a lot and I always thought it was because I was petite or maybe because I looked younger. But I don’t look that young. Are any other women, not based on personality, described as “adorable”? I try to take it as a compliment but that word feels heavy with pity when directed towards an adult. And did she think it was so cute that I had friends? Like it was a surprise? I don’t know why people in wheelchairs are infantilized like this but it’s maddening. I think so many people still just don’t understand disability. I definitely didn’t before my stroke. But I hope we’re moving towards a more empathetic society—one where people look to understand those who are different from them rather than jump to their own judgments and pre-conceived biases.

Quote of the Moment

A long quote/story:

Book Talk

Sonny’s Blues by James Baldwin (short story) - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Mr. Harris’s recommendation (my forever English teacher) - a beautifully written short story about a math teacher from Harlem trying to understand the seemingly reckless life of his younger brother. But the part that will stay with me forever is his stunning narration of his brother’s jazz band playing music.

My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell - ⭐️⭐️ - thought-provoking read about sexual assault but definitely not a beach read (oops)! It was a bit disturbing and I had trouble connecting with the main character.

The Postcard by Anne Berest - ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - a historical fiction book about a woman uncovering her grandmother’s past during WW2. But the book is structured in a different way—it’s a story about someone relaying a story. So as a reader, I felt disconnected from the actual protagonist.

Independence by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - My first ever 5 star read was in Dr. Fox’s 9th grade English class and it was written by Divakaruni. I just love her writing style and storytelling ability that can just push and pull at your emotions at will, and this beautiful story did not disappoint. It’s a historical fiction novel about three sisters coming-of-age in Bengal amidst the chaos of India’s independence and violent partition. It’s my first book club pick!

Ok, time to go back to streaming 1989 (Taylor’s version), which has been my faithful distraction from the rest of the world. This new, remastered version is somehow even better than the original version which was already pretty perfect. It slaps fr—I’ve been told I’m not allowed to use “slaps” when describing Taylor’s music but I stand by it 100%. It freaking slaps (I promise! Please don’t cringe 😬). Tonight, I’m going with 13 of my glittered/sequined girlfriends to the Eras Tour movie and tomorrow night is my 20-year high school reunion 🤯 So I will see a lot of you in the next few days! Take care of yourselves ✌🏽

Yours,

Harshada