Emmanuel Ofosu Yeboah, disabled cyclist. Photo Credit: Howard Lipin PHOTO: Yeboah stands at the side of a road with his bike raised in one hand while he poses, smiling with a helmet on. He is wearing a black and white track uniform with the colors of the Ghanian flag accentuating it.

This is the third volume of this series on #BlackDisabilityHistory that I’ve written. As part of my philosophy, it won’t be the end of my search for more information on Black and Disabled as well as Neurodiverse people, both in the past and contemporaneously. There is a wealth of African-American History re: Black Disabled and/or Neurodiverse that still needs to be discussed, but I want people, especially our people, to come to an understanding that causes us to confront traditional Narratives, Histories, and Memories we’ve constructed in terms of Black Liberation, even Pan-Africanism. …

Rob Kim/GC Images/Getty PHOTO: A group of people are protesting, holding up Puerto Rican flags and wearing similar attire. One holds a sign that says “4,645 LIVES LOST BUT NOT FORGOTTEN” on it.

A lot’s happened in the past few days, from a tweet I made calling out Ancestry’s characterization of Native Caribbeans in their DNA Story descriptions that merited an actual response from them, to a reunion with my abuelo Guillermo over the phone for the first time since we’d spoken about him contracting C-19. There was me being added to a new publication unexpectedly and being fortunate to have some of my less ratchet work featured there. …

Michael Hickson, smiling while hospitalized. Image credit: KVUE

I sat inside [another] sterile, yet humid hospital room many years ago in Georgia. My tío abuelo Wilbur, as well as my tía abuela Rosa and my prima Jennifer, alongside my madre and other family, were present. We’d converse with each other as well as monitor my bisabuela Mae Lizzie, who rested with a web of sensors attached to her, monitoring her vitals — especially her fluid levels, as she’d contracted pneumonia.

Mae Lizzie was over 100 at the time, but she was still responsive, although she didn’t speak as often as she used to. Instead her words were very…

Florence Flo Jo Griffith-Joyner stares at the camera, smiling and showing off her colorful long, red nails. She has an Afro
Florence Flo Jo Griffith-Joyner stares at the camera, smiling and showing off her colorful long, red nails. She has an Afro
Flo Jo showing off her jewelry, her long, red six-inch nails, while wearing a USA tracksuit and sporting an Afro.

This is the second volume of the series I started on the subject of Disability and its relationship with the History, Narrative, and Memory of Blackness. I’ve spent much time scouring for additional entries to feature in this series, but it’s far from complete. The method to my process requires me to adopt a critical look at the things we’ve come to validate as worthy of retelling, in part due to how I view an abled world through the lens of Disability. …

Photo credit: HolLynn D’Lil. Bradley Lomax and Judith Heumann are both seated in wheelchairs. Bradley was a Black Panther with MS and disability rights activist.

I’ve spent much of my life in my formative years seeking to uncover more about the ways that Blackness and Disability intersect, but often found myself surrounded by nothing but elaborate stories of Blackness, undeniably-wonderful, but all able-bodied. It all began as a series of posts on a neglected aspect of Black History that I frequently see throughout my experience as someone Black: the erasure of Disability from the Narratives, Histories, and Memories of collective struggle.

Disabilities were omitted entirely or diminished as minor reference points that were not elaborated on further in discussions. Soon, it ballooned into yet another…

The past weeks have been rather tumultuous. News broke about a Black mother, Diane Elliot, leaving her nonverbal, disabled son at a hospital and later being arrested for it. Despite initially being vilified by the public, many now have reached out in support of her and her family. This includes mothers with children who share her son’s disability to the very Down Syndrome Association based in Atlanta, where Elliot’s family has lived in a hotel. …

Navigating my disabilities and the expectations of people who knew me before my diagnosis

Photo: PeopleImages/Getty Images

I sat inside a sterile white hospital office and recounted my progress since my last doctor’s appointment. A woman whom I love more than anything sat across from me. We’ll call her Azucar. My curandera, Dr. Sam, a neurologist I’ve known for more than a decade now, sat quietly at her desk, her back slightly curved as she leaned forward. She’d only break her posture to scribble a few details, and then she’d return to her stance as her black hair brushed beside her shoulders. …

Facing a different kind of giant this time.

If you read my last post I made on the subject, this series on my experiences as a Black epileptic was created for Epilepsy Awareness Month. I finished it the last time, but was open to continuing it. I decided I’d do it after celebrating a special day. In this case, my birthday, although it will likely be published some time afterward. Thankfully, Medium came up with the Series feature, so I created one just to chronicle my posts. Previous entries can be found here. Dropping a link for those who want to learn more about Epilepsy.

As usual, folks…

A Depressed Family’s Portrait, Vol. 4, by moi

I’m finally able to travel places and engage in much that I wasn’t able before, largely due to advances in medicine and physical therapy. Yet, my illness still leaves me helpless whenever I have an episode, often vomiting, too dizzy to walk, and incredibly-sensitive to any sounds I may hear. I’ve even injured myself accidentally before, and then there are the burdens I face as an Epileptic. Compound that with crushing Depression and hopefully one can glimpse a small portion of the struggles I deal with.

I’d harp about well-established cases where #FFFFFF doctors, even some NBPOCs, no matter how…

“Only crime is being Black in America.” Photo Credit: Johnny Silvercloud

The .00000000001% of people who read the ratchet-ass, depressing-ass rants that I post know about some of the things I deal with health-wise. I don’t want your pity though, and I make a habit of stressing this with those I meet in public. People often hear me relay my misadventures with Epilepsy — and Meniere’s, something else I suffer from — and feel inspired by my supposed “resolve” it seems, and it’s… nice, I guess. But I’m not strong. At least, not for myself. It’s not about the pressures involved so much as a need, if not obligation, to survive.


Afroboricua. Maorocoti. Unapologetic. Ratchet BIE. Me. Disability and Mental Health Awareness Advocate. Wakanda’s Chief Director of Accessibility Services.

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