I was fortunate enough yesterday to get my brain “do things” meds. They also have the effect of helping to turn down the volume knob on my un-aliving thoughts so they are less loud. These meds have stigmas and controls around them that make getting access to them an intricate and complicated dance. I have never had good rhythm, but my current partner literally is holding me along for the steps. It’s the only way I’m passing through enough. Dancing the painful dance macabre whilst crying, but you also have to smile. Present. Present. Present. 

               I am fortunate enough to keep presenting for now. Thinking of those who can no longer do so, for it is an arduous luxury at best and inaccessible at worst. I think of those in Palestine with limited to no access to their medication in genocide and dealing with limited access in the West Bank due to medical apartheid. The structures of oppression and harm coalesce into a force of monumental proportions. 

Access to medical care shouldn’t be weaponized and threatened but we know that it has been and continues to be. In Palestine and here in the Imperial core. Our freedoms are intertwined. 

Some Dead Prez to take out: