I have very, very soft hands.
I think theres something poetic in that.
Disabled hands are magic.
My disabled hands allow me to protest, communicate, and mobilize my body.
I use them to make art and food, to build spaces and community, to adorn my body.
My disabled hands provide care, comfort, protection, pleasure, and nourishment.
I am ambidextrous, which means I hold love for and withinbothmagic hands.
And Im very good at doing my own eyeliner.
Ableism, transphobia, fatphobia, and misogyny threaten my softness each day.
Often I exist wearing armor to protect myself from systems that cause harm.
