Review

Reviews of films and books

In Their Own Voices: Disability Visibility Review

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Disability Visibility is a multi-author book filled with numerous short narratives from the perspective of those living with a disability. Separated into four distinct categories, the stories may seem overlapping in tone or themes, but not in the sense that every experience is the same. If you are to take anything away from this wonderful novel, it should be the emotional ties that are in this book between authors (that do not know one another) and the ones that are created from author to reader. An important note, and one I tend to highlight, is the inclusion of different mental and physical bodyminds. When I refer to bodyminds, what I really mean is the non-separation that exists between the human body and mind. This novel celebrates every kind of different bodymind that we typically don’t see represented in regular media (tv, movies, literature, news etc.). And with the exposure of this book, the authors represent themselves in their own voice on their own terms.  

Some might wonder why such a piece of literature needs to exist, why does this matter so much? That’s a wonderful first question to have. Disability Visibility is for the humanization of those living with a different bodymind than the status quo through the artistic use of short, educational, passionate narratives. It does not serve to explain or justify everything to the reader. The authors may very well have had to feel that unnecessary burden in their life already, and that is just it. To take the time to formally step-by-step educate a reader throughout this book is to justify their existence, to strip away their right of just being. With the power of storytelling, you get moments of insight and truth like this; “Fortunately, love isn’t a collection of capacities, of practical contributions. My love isn’t diminished by my inability to carry my son up the stairs, just as it isn’t diminished by the fact that I didn’t carry him inside the uterus.” (Pg. 132). This excerpt is from one of the shortest chapters and it is written by Jessica Slice. Slice spends no time explaining any social stigmas associated with her disability, nor does she define any terms. Instead, the chapter is mainly dealing with her range of emotions and thoughts when discussing her identity through motherhood.  

The novel is not an academic piece. It is written in an extremely personal manner but still reads with an energy of empowerment, passion, and wit. Through the narratives one can see the marriage between relationships in the outside world to the growing one with oneself. Author s.e. Smith says it best in their chapter claiming, “Members of many marginalized groups have this shared experiential touchstone, this sense of unexpected and vivid belonging and an ardent desire to be able to pass this experience along.” (Pg. 272). Smith masterfully switches between a storytelling, descriptive perspective to a large-scale one critiquing social normalization and ableist opinions that object to what they name “crip spaces.” Each narrative provides some readers a relaxed feeling of “I’m being seen” while giving others a necessary call-in to see things in a new light with necessary self-reflection. The pieces are intimate. You feel like you’re having a conversation with the author and most of the time in my experience, the conversation does not end there. Whether you find yourself in an academic setting discussing the stories or just a group of friends, it’s almost promised the words on the pages will have you translating what it meant to you with someone else. The novel is a true love letter to identity and the human spirit that thrives off being unique in harmony with the bodymind you have. With that, I leave you with another quote by Dancer Alice Sheppard: 

“I have come a long way from the brokenness of disability expected by the nondisabled world to an imagined space where the binary of “broken” and “whole” seems to exist. I look forward to learning about the effects of this thinking and to discovering what is next.” (Pg. 167).  

Sexcapades of the Sinless and More: A Sins Invalid Review

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Sins Invalid is a short film exploring a performance piece put on by disabled artists based in San Francisco. The performances vary in a range of unique expression but relate to the idea of sexual freedom, beauty in identity, and loving different bodyminds in different ways. Viewers get insight on the stage performance itself as well as behind the scenes. Co-Founder of Sins Invalid, Patricia Bearne, is shown speaking to her artists and reacting to their performances before they go on stage. This BTS footage is a clear showcase of how close the entire cast can be, and how special the art is to everyone involved. The addition of various types of art forms from each artist is something refreshing for the whole audience.  

A common important theme, and dare I say tone for this show, was that of an intimate one between artist and audience. While not every piece related to sexuality or sex itself, it dealt with the human body. A different bodymind than what is mostly represented in society. With that, expect to see nudity, stories of sexual encounters, and a brief tragic history lesson on euthanasia. While some might want to steer clear of that for personal reasons, I was able to admire the honesty. It did not just feel like being an audience member, it felt like performers truly got to be themselves possibly for the first time. That is not something I think many people in general get to experience nor are willing to for that matter. As s.e. Smith said, it felt as if “All the barriers between us have fallen away” (Pg. 271) once it began and all throughout.  

One performer by the name of Matt was on stage while audio of ableist and violent statements were thrown at him. He dodges, fights back, and bleeds on stage as if the voices were assailants attempting to kill him. This one in particular stands out the most to me. The point of his work may be obvious, but I feel it can go a step further if analyzed deeper. In that moment Matt was a victim of normalization as many people are. Normalization being a set standard of what bodies should be able to do and what they should like as well as expected behaviors associated with the bodymind. I think his performance showcased this well because of the different voices in different settings that were abusing him. Normalization is a disease. There will always be one group in power enforcing it, but that groups members can be switched out from time to time. You might be thinking why that is and author Tim Dean can explain. “Normalization does not exclusively bolster the interests of the so-called normal, since it also puts them at risk” (Pg. 144). Normalization may not switch continuously, but people do change. Even if you fit into “normal” you may not always.  

The first performer we see on stage is seen taking off her prosthetic legs and washing herself in bed. During this, she remembers a love-fling and goes into great detail about their sexcapades. This was yet another favorite of mine because it begins our show with the ultimate closeness and in my opinion, empowerment. You could tell from her movement and voice it was a happy memory for her. Two parts of this I found the most important. One, the fact that someone from the disabled community was able to display their sexuality free of judgement. And two, normalizing different types of relationships such as a casual sexual one where the woman was not degraded or shamed. I believe this opening felt powerful enough to be an example of someone from the disabled community “actively owning” a space as Smith writes (Pg. 272), and I could not be more encouraging of that energy.  

Overall, this show earns a 4/5 star rating from me. One main point of emphasis felt related to the idea of de-sexualization of those with a disability. Often people wrongly assume they are asexual or call them asexual which is not only the wrong terminology (asexual an identity a part of the LGBTQ+ community is not equivalent to de-sexualization) but a false, ignorant narrative. Many people may wonder how people with physical and mental disabilities have sex to begin with. If you are one of those people, I recommend reading some literature on relationships within the disability community. Additionally, there is such a thing as medically assisted sex. Vice recently put out a piece on this titled “Inside The World of Medically Assisted Sex.” The purpose is to encourage sexual freedom and desires of those who have been restricted from it physically and socially through payment of another person to service someone. Once you’ve done some light education, then I advise you to watch this beautiful art performance if you’re into some abstract thinking.   

Being, Becoming, Doing, Connecting: A Review of “Disability Visibility”

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Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century may be over 300 pages, but is among the faster-paced books you will read this year. Opening with an introduction by the collection’s editor Alice Wong, Disability Visibility features the writing of 34 artists, scientists, devout worshippers, authors, critics—sharing their insights on disabled life, activism, and community. Each chapter falls between two and ten pages of light autobiographical prose, and although each is unique in its own aspect, the variety of perspectives come together as a vibrant mural to prove that disabled never equals defective, and that wellness is both personal and relative.

Examining the four subheadings of the text— Being, Becoming, Doing, and Connecting— gives a fuller picture of the aim of Disability Visibility, a narrative documentation of each author’s journey from invisibility to proud self-embodiment. Each writer begins from the circumstances of their life, and choose a true personal story which best illustrates the complex intersections of their disability to their social life, relationships, employment, and aspects of identity (sex, gender, orientation, race, class, etc.). The way that the world reacts to disability is centralized among these, because issues of accessibility begin with the design of our society. Reyma McCoy McDeid, an autistic treasurer and author, shares on page 220 (a chapter entitled “Lost Cause”) that once she disclosed her neurodivergence at the disability advocacy center where she worked, the atmosphere changed drastically. “My coworkers, all passionate about serving people with disabilities, did not appreciate having a disabled coworker.” She was repeatedly discouraged from running for office after disclosing her neurodivergence at work, but this did not stop her.

So, it’s not just stigma and self-confidence; ableist rhetoric leeches into the public mind and informs our definitions of health, beauty, and even life itself. These perceptions can be positively and negatively biased, but almost always come from a place of assuming nondisability in society. Ariel Henley, the author of “There’s a Mathematical Equation That Proves I’m Ugly—Or So I Learned in My Seventh-Grade Art Class”, provides an unusual example: using the Golden Ratio to determine objective beauty on a ten-point scale. She writes on page 61 that “Never had an individual been ranked a perfect ten, but still we lived in a society that found the need to measure and rate and rank and score.” These measurements of the face and body belie measurements of self-worth, incredibly damaging for a young disabled girl who already feels too noticeable. On the converse, though equally bizarre, page 24 of Disability Visibility’s first chapter, “Unspeakable Conversations” by Harriet Mcbryde Johnson, describes the way that positive biases can be equally confusing and degrading. “There is also the bizarre fact that, where I live, Charleston, South Carolina, some people call me Good Luck Lady: they consider it propitious to cross my path when a hurricane is coming and to kiss my head just before voting day.” Can you imagine being kissed by a stranger on the street, and being told that the assault counts as a favor towards their preferred candidate? This is the power of Disability Visibility; it puts you in someone else’s shoes, and for a few pages, you experience life in tandem with the speaker. The benefits in perspective are enormous. 

So, this book is for you if disability is present in your life, and this book is for you especially if it is not. The great advantage of Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century is that it is an ethnography which reads like a diary. In other words, this book is for graduate-level reference, and this book is for high school libraries. It’s not necessarily scientific, and the writing style rarely strays from personal narrative, but this holds a power of its own because each piece has its own voice. In short, if you’ve ever wondered how to discuss, describe, and include disability in your conversations with compassion, please read this book.

An anthology of hidden realities: A review of Disability Visibility by Alice Wong

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“There’s something horrifying about realizing people don’t see you as an adult when in fact you are an adult.” (135, Sjenneson)

The quote above comes from “How to Make a Paper Crane from Rage”, a contribution to Disability Visibility by Elsa Sjunneson, where Sjunneson discusses her experience with her anger and how the world defined her by her emotions as invalid. This just one of many personal narratives documented in Disability Visibility. Each entry captures the distinct views and life experiences of its author, allowing a small insight into their reality. Most entries are around 3-5 pages long allowing the reader to sit, enjoy a short story, and have time to reflect upon what they just read without information overload. This is a very effective presentation for the narratives included, as allows the audience to digest each message and work through their personal thoughts on the issues discussed.

Disability Visibility is Academic yet Personable. This is the books strongest feature. The reader feels like they are being talked to by a person passing by on the street. Each author has their own tone, but none are extremely clinical or academic. The anthology allows each featured author a moment to shine, to take up some space. “Taking up space as a disabled person is revolutionary” (115), as Sandy Ho states in her chapter (“Canfei to Canji”). The reader gets a chance to know them, hear their views, to humanize these voices. This allows a greater retention of each author’s messages, as one feels like they are personal being talked to and can find some familiarity in a topic foreign to many. This also allows for even the most skeptical of readers to find something to relate to, something they will engage with.

The beauty of Disability Visibility is the way every narrative differs from each other, but clear themes appear as one reads the book. Not all the authors have the same world views making these themes much mor meaningful. Sentiments such as “…. for me to claim the label, when I didn’t feel “disabled enough”, felt disingenuous” (56, Eric-Udorie) are expressed multiple times in completely different context. On the other side of the coin, many times a sentiment like “Crip space is unique, a place where disability is celebrated and embraced… (273)” appears. This wide swing in visible opinions allows the reader the opportunity to build a well-rounded picture of disability. This is the main reason I would suggest this book to people, especially if they have little experience with disability. I would also like to say it has been very enlightening as someone with some experience. Learning about struggles others have faced and how they work around those struggles has been inspiring and view-shifting. Over all I would rate Disability Visibility , 4.5/5.

Readers will find overall the personal experiences are mildly alarming at the worst. However, I can guarantee there will likely be one or two entries that are disturbing or triggering. These chapters will probably be different for every person. So, I think some cation is healthy when reading certain chapters. Though, if possible, I think everyone should try to read those chapters.  I have found that each chapter is impactful in its own unique way, and by skipping some you are missing out on a journey. That being said mental health and wellness is a bigger priority than learning a new perspective.

The Power of Personal Narrative

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Disability Visibility is a collection of personal essays edited by Alice Wong. The goal of this collection is to offer insight and perspective into what it is like to have a disability. The stories share different people’s experience with disability and how society’s misconceptions and mindset towards those who are disabled has come to effected them in positive and negative ways. Each story is deep, personal, and offers a new lens into a life experience that many people are not familiar with or haven’t thought about. This collection causes us to self reflect on the way that we see and treat others in our society and community versus how they wish to be treated and seen as. It breaks down stereotypes and offers first hand accounts of what it is to be marginalized, discriminated against, and the obstacles that are faced (the obstacles we may not have originally thought of facing) when one has a disability. Not only this, but the book also focuses on people marginalized by their disability finding the spaces where they feel belonging, “Members of many marginalized groups have this shared experiential touchstone, this sense of unexpected and vivid belonging” (272).

The audience is meant to be people who are interested in learning more and breaking down their own misconceptions of disability and disability studies. Those who read it will come out with a new perspective and outlook on the disability community. This book is meant to be read by those interested in the experience of being a part of the disability community, to learn more about what that entails and what the benefits are from finding a place where one belongs. It’s about watching other people’s perspective towards their disability, religion, society, politics, and more change, “When I walk into that church service, I am not the believer that I used to be.” (58).

This communication is done through personal essay, the stories and memories of those with disability that deem these moments as valuable and worth relaying. The social expectation of this form of communication is that each essay offers a vulnerable, personal story, that contains some sort of lesson the writer learned and feels needs to be shared and learned by others. Often, these are stories from childhood that have stuck with and influenced us our entire lives, “I am ugly. There is a mathematical equation. to prove it. Or so I was told by they that sat behind me in my seventh-grade art class.” (39). These narratives are usually told in a story telling form and don’t follow an academic structure. They can be poems, essays, even verse.

In the end, I loved this book. It changed my perspective and made me look at disability and the disability community in another light. I was able to connect with the writers both personally and emotionally. I feel like I’ve been opened up to a new community and I would definitely rate this a 5 star read.

Furthering Conversations: A Review of “Disability Visibility”

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“Disbability Visibility” is a compilation of essays and short-stories from the 21st Century written by people with disabilities. Compiled by editor Alice Wong, the essays and short stories feature narrative glimpses of the lives of each author, from childhoods to relationships, from careers to activism, each story has follows the thread of disability into the intersections of everyday life. “Disability Visibility” is an anthology written both for the people who have never felt seen, and for people who want to expand their horizons and understand the complexity of our human nature. It is a chance for the authors to amplify their voices, their impassioned words giving insight into our perceptions and the reality of just how every experience is unique. It is a chance for the reader to grow in empathy and understanding towards your neighbor, and a must read for those who want to explore disability and intersectionality from a lived-experience perspective.

Authors like Shoshana Kessok, who walk the reader through the complexities of the medical system and the misguidance of bipolar disorder, help readers to get a glimpse of the fallacies of healthcare. But Kessok doesn’t leave the reader with the complications of getting your medications adjusted and the never ending appointments. Rather, they acknowledge that once you receive the help you need, your life can stabilize, and reaching out for help is always better than suffering alone. They talk about the interweaving of mental illness with creativity and how so many people feel that real artists have to suffer (mentally, physically, emotionally etc.). Kessok says, “I read books about people theorizing about the connection between mental illness and creativity and I shake my head. I don’t need to know the connection, because if there is one, it doesn’t matter to me. I take my medicine and work my craft at the same time because I don’t need to suffer as an artist” (Kessok, 187). Stories like these battle against society’s preconceived notions and reveal the truth about mental illness, while also serving as cautionary tales of putting too much truth into stereotypes.

Each story is unique, as unique as the author who crafted them, and stories about feeling different are not uncommon. June Eric-Udorie speaks about how having nystagmus made her feel broken, always praying for healing that would never come. In “When You Are Waiting to Be Healed”, she acknowledges the desire to be without disability and the sometimes confusing choice one can make when coming to terms with the identity of “disabled”. But she also acknowledges the joy of understanding yourself. “I come to church happy in the body I exist in; I come to church knowing that I am not a mistake waiting to be fixed,” June says (Eric-Udorie, 58). June gives the reader an understanding of growth and healing beyond definition, providing concepts that may fight with the reader’s previous conceived notions of healing.

This anthology is a series of love letters to the understanding of yourself, a celebration of difference, and a reconciliation between the past and the present. It proves that there is no predetermined way of living, that there is a freedom in expression and value in being in relationship with others who share a thread of understanding. “Disability Visibility” works around the reader’s biases, scraping away the force-fed egregious narratives fed to us by society and replacing it with bubbles of the lived experience of people with disabilities through all aspects of life. Ariel Henley, whose essay titled, “There’s a Mathematical Equation That Proves I’m Ugly”, which redefines our understanding of beauty, sums up the artistry found in each essay with a beautiful quote about her experience. “But art isn’t necessarily about beauty. Art is supposed to make you feel something, and I began to realize my appearance was my art. My body, my face, my scars told a story- *my* story” (Henley, 46).

A compendium of innovation, beauty, and wholeness, “Disability Visibility” is a quick read, offering readers a chance to see themselves and to see the lived experiences of people with disabilities. This book shows readers how empathy is the answer, and how we get there is by viewing each and every person, just as they are, seeing the value in all of our varied experiences. 5/5

Sexuality and Defiance: A Review of Sins Invalid

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Summary:

The short film “Sins Invalid” showcases a performance project by the same name, created by disabled artists Patty Berne and Leroy Moore. This collection of performances by a collection of artists of all disabilities, races, ethnicities, genders, and sexualities focuses on the nuances of navigating sex, desire, and relationships while existing in a world that is incredibly hostile to any displays of sexuality in disabled people. The first performance by ET Russian shows them removing their prosthetic legs for the night and rubbing lotion on their legs while a narration plays over the scene describing a past sexual experience with another disabled person who was injured in a car crash. Next, Maria Palacios explains her relationship with sexuality as a wheelchair user and how she was taught that she would never have sex, get married, have children or even grow up. Palacios also describes the horrible medical treatment she experienced in her youth that dehumanized her. After these introductory performance, Sins Invalid co-founder Patty Berne comes onto the screen and explains why she wanted to create this performance troupe with Leroy Moore, highlighting the way she was paraded around her elementary school naked for doctors to analyze. This performance project is a way for these disabled performers to own their bodies and display them for an audience in a way that is empowering for themselves and others.

Next, the film explores the United States’ past of eugenics, beginning by listing the “5 D’s of types of people who should not reproduce”: Degenerate, Dependent, Deficient, Delinquent, and Defective. Performer Seeley Quest takes on the story of a woman named Carey whose mother was in colony of people that fell under the 5 D’s. When she was young she was assaulted and became pregnant, but was forcibly sterilized on the basis of her family history of disability. One of the most difficult performances to watch came next, with the co-founder Leroy Moore on his knee in the nude while another performer pulls a long list of insults from his mouth, symbolizing how the words of the world are easily internalized. After that, deaf dancer Antoine Hunter explains the experience of non-deaf people telling him he shouldn’t dance because he can’t hear music. We see Hunter dance without any soundtrack, exploring an internal rhythm he seeks to share with the audience. Next, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha explains how poets and writers like her too are able to join Sins Invalid and shares a poem she wrote about the love between herself and another disabled individual and how pure and strong their devotion to taking care of each other is.

Later, Leroy Moore performs a scene of going to the doctor in sexual bondage attire and then performs a scene with Juba Kalamka where they play dominos and joke with each other until it turns to hugging and kissing. Then, performer Matt Fraser conducts a sensual bath scene where he shows the audience how he cleans himself, making use of his legs to reach areas his arms are unable to, and invites the audience to see his beauty in the way shower scenes in movies and television often sexualize the love interests of the protagonists. Right afterwards we watch Fraser in a new scene being beat up and eventually killed by an invisible assailant which we find out is an embodiment of the microaggressions he faces in day to day life. The most moving performance for me came next, where artist Nomy Lamm dressed in feathers and wings sings an eerie wordless song atop a nest of limbs. Nearing the end of the showcase, Piepzna-Samarasinha orates another of her pieces, which is a story about the experience of flirting with another disabled individual online and dreaming about their possible life together. Finally, the last performance Sins Invalid gives us is a dramatic chain of events between performer Rodney Bell and Seeley Quest where at first they are in an intimate and tender moment that turns violent when Quest attacks Bell, trying to use his vulnerabilities as a wheelchair user against him. In the last few minutes of this scene, Bell rises up into the air with his wheelchair, twisting and turning and is displayed in front of a red cross, reminiscent of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

Quotations and Observations:

From “Disability and Sex” in Keywords for Disabilities, Margrit Shildrick writes, “…disabled people, like everyone else, understand their sexualities in multiple different ways, which do not fit easily with the convenient models of social management” (Shildrick pg. 164). I thought this quote is depicted very nicely in Sins Invalid because inherent to the production is the fact that each of these disabled performers have different experiences and stories based on their lives as people of color, queer people, and each of them utilizes different mediums in which they choose to perform their stories. I think one of the reasons why Sins Invalid is so good, is because one of their goals as a production is to essentially scrap the “convenient models of social management” in favor of showing the world who they truly are, safe within their community of people who support and cherish their art.

Another quote from Keywords for Disabilities from the chapter “Sexuality” by Robert McRuer says, “Disabled people often have been discursively constructed as incapable of having sexual desires or a sexual identity, due to their supposed “innocence” ” (McRuer, 168). I connected this quote to Sins Invalid in particular to a section where a performer is expressing her frustration with societies inability to allow disabled people the experience of seeing people like themselves on the screen getting to experience sex just like non-disabled people are allowed to. Sins Invalid is a way for people to show off “An Unshamed Claim to Beauty in the Face of invisibility” as stated on their website.

Review:

I found the short film Sins Invalid to be incredibly moving in the way the performers were able to get down to the nitty-gritty feelings of pain, weakness, love, and strength that have experienced and continue experience in their lives. Before I wrote this post, I watched it one more time in order to catch the detail I may have missed in our class viewing, and each performance so aptly contends with the oppressive power structures they face, wrought with symbolism and humor. I really would like to see a live performance of Sins Invalid if I ever get the opportunity because only seeing snippets of many different performances, I would assume, pale in comparison to the real experience of getting to see it live. I rate Sins Invalid a 5 out of 5, because of the masterful attention to detail of the camera work, as well as the finely chosen scenes that moved me in such a short amount of time.

“An Unshamed Claim to Beauty in the Face of Invisibility”

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“Sins Invalid”, while the name of the documentary that ENG 401 viewed in class last Friday, is also the name of the disability justice visual-and-performing-arts troupe starring in that film. Based in the Bay Area of San Francisco, Sins Invalid is experienced similarly to an onstage lookbook: it is a performance that explores beauty, desire, the body, and identity through disability, paying careful respect to the intersectional lines of race, gender, sexuality, and class. Over the 33 minutes of the film artists Cara Page, Seeley Quest, Maria Palacios, Nomy Lamm, ET Russian, Antoine Hunter, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Rodney Bell and Mat Fraser are interviewed about their performance and the motivations behind their various creative expressions on stage. Since 2006, the group have performed on a rotating basis, and are allowed to choose their own acts. A single performance offers everything from slam poetry to aerial gymnastics, all with a focus on the beauty in self-realization among the disabled, and letting go of the ableist myth that our fullest lives and disability are mutually exclusive things.

Chapter two on “Ability” from Keywords for Disability Studies, by Fiona Kumari Campbell, posits that ableism “is useful for thinking not just about disability but also about other forms of difference that result in marginality or disadvantage” (Adams et al. 14). Sins invalid, which is run entirely by disabled people of color, makes this a focus of their work within the disability facet of the performance. Seeley Quest’s performance as “Carrie”, a pregnant foster youth, exemplifies these “forms of difference”, and demonstrates the avenues by which disabled people are too often taken advantage of (financially and sexually in Carrie’s case) when they are not adequately accommodated by the systems in which they must live.

The next chapter of Keywords for Disability Studies, “Access”, by Bess Williamson, adds that our modern pressures to accommodate the disabled “[follow] the logic of the ‘social model’ of disability, which shifts attention from the impaired body to the surrounding environment” (Adams et al. 15). Williamson means here that the social model of disability sees disability as defined by society, not the way someone is born. This reminded me most of the performance of Mat Fraser, who spars with an imaginary foe onstage as audio clips of derisive comments play in the background. As the comments continue, Mat falls and convulses on the ground, unable to get up, with blood streaming from his mouth. I believe at this moment Mat intended to show how the impairments of stigma, judgement, and low self-esteem themselves become a barrier, perhaps equal to or sometimes greater than the physical challenge presented by a given disability.

Personally, I enjoyed the film for its intimacy in subject, because to me it proved another level of sincerity and frankness in a discussion on bodies. How can that not include love, sex, and romance? However, I also noticed the uneasiness in the class when the nude bodies came on screen. In this country, it’s more acceptable to show a video of a shootout than a female nipple in most circumstances, so I understand their reservations. But, I think that awkward feeling is partially intentional on the behalf of Sins Invalid, as it makes us consider what should be normalized (like the scene where Mat washes himself onstage) for the human body in society, and also reconsider what bodies we do see onstage most frequently and why.

I would rate this documentary four stars because I thought it was a bit poorly produced for a documentary about a performing arts crew (you’d think they’d have better cameras in 2013), but the amount of time spent interviewing the actual artists and not the company was refreshing to me. Aesthetically, and in terms of the message, absolutely a five star film. If nothing else, Sins Invalid is a beautiful performance, and I think the artists important work bringing justice to all “forms of difference” at a degree of inclusivity that felt new to me as a consumer.

“Sins Invalid” – I’M UNCOMFORTABLE.

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Graphic imagery of sexual performances have always made me feel uncomfortable, (especially if I’m not particularly looking for it.); after all, “There can be few practices in everyday life that arouse such strong responses – both positive and negative – as sex.” (Keywords in Disability Studies – Sex, Margrit Shildrik, Pg. 164). So I was not really excited about watching the short documentary film “Sins Invalid”. Now that I’ve seen the film, I must say that it’s not as bad as I thought, but I still had a hard time watching it. The film follows the experiences of a theatre troupe each dealing with their own physical and mental disabilities, as they perform one of their performances on stage.

I had very little problem with the actual message of the film; people with disabilities should be able to develop strong romantic and sexual relationships, and most importantly, be able to express their love for sex and their need for intimacy and desire. People should not be forced to not have sex, or be sterilized because they are disabled, or feel like they don’t deserve love or children because they are physically or mentally disabled. The disabled need a space and a voice to express who they are as humans and individuals; “It is rare, as a disabled person, that I [author S.E. Smith] have an intense sense of belonging, of being not just tolerated or included in a space, but actively owning it[.]” (Disability Visability, Pg. 272). In my personal opinion, the performances were at their best when they talk about the women during the 50’s and 60’s because she was mentally disabled. The performance of the woman in the blue dress, talking about this story of sterilization and abortion was very compelling and heartbreaking. Another compelling performance was that of a deaf performer dancing. It was intriguing, because the dancer can’t hear music, but he enjoys the art of dance – why should he not perform dance, since it’s a unique art that’s distinct from music and is not dependent on it to be an art form? These sections where probably the best examples of “Crip space” as described by S. E. Smith, “A place where disability is celebrated and embraced – something radical and taboo in many parts of the world and sometimes even for people in those spaces.” (Disability Visibility, Pg. 273)

When the film starts having very colorful language, describing masturbation and sexual acts between disabled people, or even displaying violent sexual displays – that is when it became difficult for me to watch. (Having descriptive audio playing didn’t really help very much – it probably made me feel more uncomfortable.). I have no problem with someone with disabilities enjoying sex. I’d encourage more people with disabilities to explore their sexuality. But I do not like watching people have sex. It’s a deeply personal and private act for me. And then there is the case of mental disabilities; when it comes to mental disabilities, it becomes hard for me to encourage sexual exploration, especially with another person (how can a person with developmental disabilities like severe-autism or Asperger’s properly consent to a sexual relationship?). It’s a hard debate. How much can someone with a disability consent to having sex, and how do you prevent sexual predators from manipulating the disabled for their own pleasure?

3/5 stars: This film, overall, has a positive message, and these people have the right to explore their sexual expression in whatever way they desire. I cannot honestly say that I will watch these kind of performances, because I don’t like watching sexual performance art, but it was certainly intriguing, and it certainly made me ask a lot of questions. Author S. E. Smith explains my apprehension very well in her short essay, the Beauty of Spaces Created for and by Disabled People: “The nondisabled people are hesitant, nervous, unsure about what to say in response to the work in progress we’d all been invited to witness.” (Disability Visability, Pg. 273)

Invalid No More: Disabled Performance in “Sins Invalid”

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Sins Invalid is a short film featuring a troupe of the same name from the San Francisco area. The troupe is composed of performers with varying disabilities who express their sexuality and experience on stage for a live audience. The film chronicles the creation and heart of the troupe, formed out of a need to shift the narrative of disabled sexuality from something grotesque or shunned to something visible and celebrated. Sins Invalid is an active performance to display the varying sexualities and sensualities of each performer and to give the audience insight into the beauty of disability.

When analyzing the film from a disability theory angle, it is clear to see the subversive nature of the film. Robert McRuer explains in his essay on “Sexuality” in relation to disability theory that, “exclusion from normality or a presumption that one could not be part of the heterosexual/homosexual system, in other words, sometimes allowed for disabled pleasures and disabled ways of knowing that were not reducible to dominant systems of heterosexuality that were dependent on ablebodied definitions of sexual norms” (McRuer, 169). Given that in the 20th century people continued to find ways to label disabled sexuality as “abnormal”, there  is a need to break out of the othering that comes from heteronormative analysis of disabled sexuality. Sins Invalid as a performance troupe finds their own ways of subverting the narrative of abnormality, transforming the concept of disabled sexuality into something beautiful and sensual. This explicit subversion is emphasized in the lapdance performance of Maria Polacios, where she turns her wheelchair into an object of sexual mobility and sensuality. Something that the heteronormative society would see as abnormal suddenly appears erotic, freeing the label of disabled sexuality.

Patricia Bearne, Co-Founder of Sins Invalid, speaks in the film about there being a distinct lack of disabled bodies on stage, how people with disabilities need a space where they can perform and grow as performers. In a short story labeled “The Beauty of Spaces Created for and by Disabled People”, s.e. Smith defines the concept of crip space as “unique, a place where disability is celebrated and embraced- something radical and taboo in many parts of the world and sometimes even for people in those spaces” (Smith, 273). This is exactly the kind of environment that the founders of Sins Invalid have fostered. Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha expands on this concept by speaking about how the first time she watched the show, she was amazed and moved to tears by the the notion that the queer and disabled performers did not have to hide any part of their identity while on stage. Sins Invalid as a troupe is working towards freeing the boundaries that have been set by society for people with disabilities, expanding the definition of what it means to live free lives full of love. In Petra Kupper’s analysis of “Performance” in disability studies, she explains how in performances like these “the action moves out from the individual and toward communal action, and a staged performance becomes a way of presenting disability in public” (Kuppers, 138). For the people who are disabled in the audience, this is a celebration of the lives of fellow people with disabilities. For the nondisabled in the audience, it is a chance to see another facet of disability, one that has long since been locked away by society. All around, it is another chance for the audience to see how acceptance and support can create stunning and captivating narratives for all viewers.

As someone who is asexual, this would not be my first choice of a performance to view. However, I do understand the need to shift the current accepted narrative that people with disabilities are without sexuality or that their sexuality is otherwise repulsive. Interpretive performances are also not my first choice of visual performance, but I think that each scene represented in the movie has its own beauty. If I were to watch performances that are not overtly sexual, I would have an easier time enjoying them. But that is a personal preference to avoid blatantly sexual media. However, I am struck by the moments of spoken word, specifically the performance of Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, relating her relationship to an adventure through the cosmos. And I can appreciate the stories that they are trying to communicate and the medium of which they are doing so, and I hope that they continue to find joy and freedom in their performances. From a professional standpoint, 4 out of 5 stars, from a personal standpoint, 3 out of 5.