Name: Wheelchair Dancer

Bio: A displaced Brit, WCD lives part time in New York City and San Francisco Bay Area; she dances for a physically integrated dance company. Her blog can be found at http://cripwheels.blogspot.com and you can follow her on twitter at http://www.twitter.com/wheelchairdancr

1. What is your disability or chronic medical condition? How does it affect you both generally and on a daily basis?

It interests me that we continue to ask this question of each other. Even as we blog, write, talk about how annoyed we are when we meet people on the street whose first question this is, we continue to measure, approve, classify, recognize each other by the medical classifications of our bodies. Why? I wonder whether there’s a better way to identify ourselves to each other, to signal that, yes, we belong to each other. I wonder if there’s an inherent feeling of privilege here — that somehow disabled people get to ask these questions of each other, because, well, we’re disabled. Is the information learned so necessary that without it we cannot build relationships? Does knowing that you are an acquired C-6 versus a “from birth” or even an acquired T-1 matter? Can we only “identify” and “relate” if we know the medical details of our histories? Yes, there’s a difference between being a high-quad and a low-para, but is that difference material if you believe people are available and accessible in more ways than, “I know what you’re going through only because I went through exactly the same experience myself.” I believe it is important to share experiences and that can sometimes include sharing medical histories, but I also believe that using a medical history as a kind of shortcut to identifying with and understanding our lived experiences abrogates our ability to understand and relate to each other.

I also think that within the disability community there are “prestige” diagnoses — I think, for example, of the way wheelchair users are prioritized both in terms of discussions of access and in terms of symbolizing the community. I also think that wheelchair users all too frequently tend to operate around a separate but different hierarchy that seeks to delegitimate the rights non-SCI users of wheelchairs. The negative sides of the conversation that I have heard contain things like “if you can walk, you don’t need a wheelchair,” “people who use scooters aren’t real wheelchair users and shouldn’t have access to funding for them under Medicare or any other kind of public funding,” and “aging-related mobility impairments aren’t real disabilities.”

Gosh. I seem to have backed myself into a corner. I can hardly start to answer the question now, can I? I rather like the second part. How it affects me on a daily basis. I use a wheelchair for most of my mobility; I have involuntary movement, hypermobilility and joint instability, some pretty nasty spasms, and a fair amount of pain. And yet, I am not sure what the question asks — it certainly leaves room for freedom of response. Am I affected? Usually, we use “affected” in some kind of negative way. I wouldn’t use it to describe myself outside the disability community for fear of conveying a sense of suffering and blight. But, in a more neutral sense, yes, there have been some significant changes in my life.

2. Do you consider yourself “disabled”? Do other people see you as “disabled”?

That all depends on who you are and what you mean by disabled. I consider myself disabled; I use the term to indicate a mobility impairment and, through that impairment, my affinity and affiliation with the culture, history, and traditions associated with (but not necessarily begun by) the disability rights movement. It’s also an identity term. I am not sure how I would be read by, say, various legal and governmental entities for which the definition of disability is not being able to work. Disability outside the movement is so contextually defined. Does my doctor see me as disabled or does he just write prescriptions? How would I know? The army of people I work with on physical therapy, dance, training, etc? I don’t know — and I really mean that because so many of them subscribe to variations of the “we are all challenged” “you aren’t paralyzed and wheelchair-bound” takes on impairment. They all recognize that I am a dancer and that that means that I am an athlete. Does their notion of athlete also include disabled athlete? Does being seen as disabled depend on my wheelchair use? I kinda think so, at least for me. When I was using crutches more regularly, no one saw me as disabled. I was just someone who used crutches — knee surgery, dear? On the other hand, when I spazz out, passing is less of an option.

3. Do people treat you differently or unfairly because of your disability/condition? How so? Can you give an example(s)?

There’s a blog’s worth of writing on that topic. Most of the unfair stuff is pretty easy; it’s the same old disability prejudice, and my stories aren’t all that different from those of many other bloggers. More interesting (to me, at least) are the disability and race interactions. Yes, there is still racism out and about. We aren’t post-racial yet — the ways race and disability prejudice interact are endlessly fascinating. As a walking black woman, I’m a threat: I might steal something; I might be on welfare; I am most definitely staff (not a guest or client). As a wheelie, I am no threat. I am to be assisted, pitied, and helped through a difficult world. Or (and I love this one), I am doubly blighted. At any rate, no one is going to suspect me of stealing. The value and meaning of disability changes when I am in my community of folks because the disability identity that is most widely known is a white disability history and culture.

People certainly treat my differently. I am special (said bitterly but with a certain smugness as well). I don’t have to wait in line; people talk to me, make random conversation with me; flight attendants and other similar personnel chat to me more. People smile at my bravery when they pass me in the street… Urgk. Don’t get me started. I have to interact with more people in a wider variety of ways — I have neither the luxuries of passing or anonymity. I am always visible, always on, always performing some other person’s fantasy (in a prosaic psych sense, rather than sexual sense) of disability and race.

It’s complicated, and I am certainly not the most skilled at navigating all of the questions that come up because of disability. How do you handle it when a child stares at you? What are they looking at? If I am unfairly treated, is that a matter of race, disability, or both? How can I distinguish between these things? Is it worthwhile distinguishing? And if not, how can we work for justice and equality such that these questions are less and less meaningful to more and more people?

4. If you could tell the world one thing about what it’s like to live with your disability/condition, what would it be?

It’s work. It’s hard work. It can be very scary. It’s sometimes painful, often incomprehensible. You will try, fail, and try again. It can seem like a full time job that you have to do in addition to anything else you might want to do. You can do it; you will find your way.

5. What do you like about living with your disability/condition?

I’m not sure how to answer that. I like the life I have built; I am really happy with my career and beyond that dancing fills my soul. I appreciate the irony that I never would have had the chance to be a dancer if I hadn’t entered the world of disability. But I am not sure how to answer the question. I like the way I live, the people I have met, the grounding I have, the self-knowledge. I even like my wheelchair; that said, however, I don’t think I can say that I like what I live with.

6. Is there anything else you’d like to share?

Come and see me dance. Go and support disabled dancers in your area. Understand the freedom we dancers achieve by living maximally in our bodies. Go thou and do likewise — not the dance bit — just the living maximally bit. Oh yeah. And do your bit to make accessibility possible; when the world is open to more people in more ways, we are all able to be better humans.

**

Well, I am back. In case you missed me, I have been gone. Two weeks ago today, I fell down the basement stairs holding an open container of yogurt, a can of Diet Coke and a glass with ice in it. By unbelievable miracle, I managed not to break anything or hit my head. However, I did end up with 17 stitches in my left hand and I sprained my left wrist, plus I had bumps and bruises all over my body. Thank heavens for Vicodin.

I haven’t been on my computer much these last two weeks. Instead, I’ve been using my iPod touch or pretty much everything: e-mail, browsing the Internet, etc. I even wrote two blog entries by typing them out with one finger on the iPod touch screen.

I’m back now and I’ve got a new toy. Since my injury almost 5 years ago(!), I’ve had pain and weakness in of my upper extremities and this latest fall has only exacerbated these problems. I decided it was finally time to break down and buy the Dragon NaturallySpeaking dictation software so that I do not have to use my hands so much on the computer. In fact, I am writing this blog post using the Dragon software.

When I fell down the basement stairs and landed at the bottom, I truly hit bottom. I feel like I’m starting over now. Not only do I have to heal my hands, I also have to build up my strength and endurance throughout my whole body.  I fell because I wasn’t feeling well and I was tired. I have often felt in the past when I am tired including a very memorable incident in front of the White House in January 2008. (Those Secret Service guys are really nice!)

I think this will also be a new period of growth for this blog. I am not exactly sure what form my writing and activism is going to take. I am not sure how to continue the fight for health care reform but I know it needs to happen. People I know spent thousands of dollars on prescription drugs in 2009. I know of a man died because he did not have health insurance. This happened just within the last month. Here in Wisconsin, there are 20,000 childless adults on a waiting list for a low income state health insurance plan. Something needs to happen. Congress needs to get it together and pass health care reform. I put so much of myself into this fight last year that I don’t know what else to do but it has to happen.

So there will my writing and activism from here? In my convalescence, I have been doing lot of reading, authors like Gloria Steinem, Charlotte Gilman Perkins, Kate Chopin, Kate Chopin, and Zora Neale Hurston. I also the new Abigail Adams biography and great memoir called IraqiGirl.

In addition, I have been trying to educate myself on and read about disability rights. As the days, weeks, and months go forward, I think this is where my energies will be spent. There will still be a heavy dose of politics, feminism and health care in the mix, but I think and hope to write more about disability on this blog in the future.

So… that’s what I’ve been up to. What’s going on in your lives?

**

Me on Facebook yesterday: I hate my body today. I really do.

Fab feminist friend: Remember your Love Your Body post! This feeling will pass,,,

Oh damn. There’s nothing like having your own words come back you in the ass. It’s one thing to write all those idealistic, pretty words when things are going well on Love Your Body Day. It’s quite another to try walk the ‘body love’ walk when you’re recovering from a nasty fall down the basement stairs with a glass in your hand, I cut my hand up pretty badly and an now the proud owner of 17 stitches, plus I have bumps and bruises all over my body and I have a possible hairline fracture in my wrist. Plus, a nasty stomach bug was making me miserable.

Still, there was and is plenty left to love about my body:

• My left shoulder, arm, wrist, hand and fingers, which have allowed me to do most of the tasks my right side does
• My vocal cords, which have allowed me to ask for help when I need it and to swallow pain meds, chocolate, Diet Coke and other nutritious things
• My eyes, which have allowed me to read, the only activity I’ve felt like doing for any extended period of time

My friend is right: even on the crummiest days, our bodies still do marvelous things.

Have you shown your body some love lately?

(For the record, I have poor balance and coordination as a result of my 2005 spinal cord injury. I wasn’t feeling well and simply lost my balance. No one pushed me. There was no domestic violence.)

**

I am going to do my best to keep this short and sweet as I am typing one-handed on my phone thanks to a little mishap yesterday with a glass, a visit to Urgent Care, and 17 stitches in my right hand.

Today is Blog for Choice Day 2010, which marks the 37th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Bloggers across the web are writing about why they are pro-choice so I’ll add my two cents.

I have a hard time with abortion. I’n Catholic and that makes this a complicated subject. Still, that same Catholic faith that feels very uncomfortable about late term abortion is why I’m pro-choice. It’s what has led me to believe the life of a woman who is already here is more important, that we should care for our fellow human beings like Jeaus would. To me, that means valuing a woman’s life over that of a fetus.

I am pro-choice because abortion is a medical procedure and every woman should be able to access it safely without endangering her life.

I am pro-choice. I am grateful to those who fought so hard 37 years ago so I have this right today

The Undomestic Goddess sent me this Jezebel link via Twitter: In Which Disabled Women Get Makeovers.

In the UK, there’s a new version of a popular makeover show: How to Look Good Naked…With a Difference. The “difference?” All the women on this series are disabled in some way:

You’re probably familiar with the How to Look Good Naked franchise (in the U.S. it’s hosted by former QueerEye fashion maven Carson Kressley) in which women, through a course of pampering, self-esteem exercises, talks with the host and makeovers, learn to feel good in their own skins. It’s a gentler twist on a genre that spawned such horrors as The Swan and Extreme Makeover, and its British iteration, hosted by Gok Wan, is a hit on the other side of the pond.

Yeah.

I’ve never seen How to Look Good Naked, even the Kressley version, so I don’t really know how to works. I don’t know if they include any plastic surgery or if it’s just hair, makeup, exercise, diet, clothes, etc. You know, the whole “you look terrible, you dress terribly, you eat terribly, your hair and makeup is terrible and you’re basically a terrible failure as a human being” king of makeover show where a benevolent fairy godperson swoops in to save the pathetic peon from her ugly existence.

Obviously, there are many problems with this type of reality makeover show, most of which I’ll leave to Jenn Pozner. The more immediate issues is why women with disabilities were singled out for a “special” episodes. More from Jezebel:

Why do these women need their own show? HTLGN is about making women feel good – all women, right? Not just the able-bodied. Those who for, whatever reason, need a boost. Not all disabled women feel unattractive; these few do. And while it’s clearly a very positive experience for all involved, isolating the episode creates the usual danger of letting the few represent a large and varied population. Why not have disabled women mixed into regular seasons occasionally, like anyone else? Especially given the practical tips Wan disseminates.

Singling out disabled women for this “special” program speaks to the larger issue of our society’s unfamiliarity and discomfort with disabilities, particularly with women’s disabilities. While this television program is currently airing only in the U.K., I think we can all easily envision a similar program on this side of the pond so I don’t hesitate to lump “our” Western society together.

Quick: Name some famous women with disabilities. I thought about this for a couple minutes and came up with Helen Keller and actress Marlee Matlin. Now try and think of some famous men with disabilities. Mine were FDR, Christopher Reeve, Corky from “Life Goes on” (yes, I’m that old), Perry Mason, Richard Dreyfuss’ kid in the movie Mr. Holland’s Opus (fictional example but oh well), Lieutenant Dan from Forrest Gump, Perry Mason, President Reagan’s press secretary James Brady, and on and on and on.

I don’t know why I can think of so many male figures with disabilities. As a society, we’re pretty comfortable with men’s disabilities. We see them as masculine, especially when the disability is a result of combat, sports or motor vehicle accident. When a man is injured on the battle field or thrown from his motorcycle at 80 miles an hour, we feel bad but it happens to lots of men. It’s “manly”. In many ways, their disability is a badge of honor and courage.

Women’s disabilities are different.

We don’t talk about women’s disabilities. We aren’t comfortable with them. I don’t know if this is because we are supposed to be the mothers and caretakers of society who every one else depends on to be strong. It may be because we have been taught over and over again that our bodies are shameful and indecent so if there is something “broken” or “dis”-abled about it, then we as women should buck up and just handle it by ourselves. We shouldn’t talk about it.

We need to talk about women and disabilities. We need to remove the stigma, fear and isolation associated with women and disabilities. For instance, when I think about a man using a cane, I think of a kind, grandfatherly type smiling at me as I walk into Walmart. When I think of a woman using a cane, I think of the witch in Snow White or the hag Hogatha from the Smurfs, although I cannot find any pictures of either actually using a cane or walking stick. I’m not sure if that means they didn’t use one but in any case, my image of women and canes is not positive. It is of mean old ladies with multiple health issues who want to harm others. That’s not exactly empowering.

Furthermore, women need to talk more openly about our bodies and our health. I will never forget listening to Sen. Chris Dodd talk about his prostate surgery at Ted Kennedy’s memorial service last summer. Dodd told the audience how Kennedy had called him shortly after his surgery and said they had shared a few jokes about catheters. Sen. Dodd talked about catheters for urination after prostate surgery at a nationally televised event. I simply cannot imagine two female survivors of breast cancer joking about their drains after a mastectomy at a similar event. Or a mastectomy bra. Or even just mammograms.

If we talked about our bodies and our health more, if we were more open about our health, illnesses, self-image and disabilities, what would that mean? Would conversations like this happen? Would we have more empathy for people who are different from us? We would be so scared of becoming sick and/or disabled?

Would we need ’special’ makeover shows for women with disabilities? Of course not. If we, as a society, could begin to talk about women’s bodies in a healthy, respectful and nurturing way, every woman would be able to seek and find information on beauty, fashion, health, and wellness to meet her needs without a makeover show perpetuating condescending stereotypes.

**

I feel helpless about this horrific situation in Haiti but as I try to recover from a minor concussion (made much more complicated by hydrocephalus and Dandy Walker syndrome), I have spent a lot of time watching MSNBC’s coverage of the earthquake.

There I learned about Simply Grove’s call for Bloggers Day of Action for Haiti which aims “offer our readers an opportunity to help in the relief efforts in Haiti.”

While watching Andrea Mitchell Reports, I learned from Colin Powell that the best way to help is to donate money to relief organizations. You can find a list of reputable charities here.

One of my favorite ways to donate is to text “HAITI” to 90999 to donate $10 to the Red Cross relief efforts in Haiti, which will be added onto your next cellphone bill. It’s super easy and takes only a few seconds. You can also donate $5 to Wyclef Jean’s charity Yele Haiti by texting Yele to 501 501 on your cellphone.

All images via the New York Times

**

Note: Today’s Women Living with Disabilities interview is with Ashley. a twenty-three year old writer and post-graduate student who has a special interest in social health issues. You can read her blog, Beyond Passing Time. Today’s interview is notable in that it is personal: Ashley has hydrocephalus and Dandy Walker variant, part of Dandy Walker Syndrome, two inter-related and very serious conditions I also battle with on a daily basis. From the bottom of my heart, Ashley, thank you for sharing your story!

1. What is your disability or chronic medical condition? How does it affect you both generally and on a daily basis?

I have a Dandy Walker Variant (cerebellum malformation) and congenital hydrocephalus (I was born with excess fluid on my brain). The effects of the DWV have been more pronounced since I got sick last June. This condition affects my balance and co-ordination. It makes my legs fatigue and ache easily too. To correct the hydrocephalus, a shunt was put in when I was ten days old. The shunt is a tube that goes from my brain to my belly.

I have a learning disability called Auditory Processing Disorder (APD). It affects how my brain interprets sound. I have a hard time understanding oral instructions. My auditory memory isn’t very good.

I also have Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia which basically just means my heart’s naturally too fast. I take medications for this, but my heart still frequently races. This makes me weak and tired and feel generally unwell. Stairs are hard enough with the DWV! The IST compounds the situation.

I also have mild asthma and severe environmental allergies. I have a long history of recurring sinus infections, hives and breathing issues.

I also have fused spinal discs in my neck and my spine is a bit curved around that same area. My neck is constantly stiff and sore. My feet are flat and they pretty much always hurt when I walk – for any length of time.

I have weak muscles behind my right eye, so I have to work hard to focus and hold my focus on things. It also makes me see things the same I would if I was drunk.

I also have a long history of getting sick with mysterious illnesses that leave me very weak and vomiting like crazy!

2. Do you consider yourself “disabled”? Do other people see you as “disabled”?

I’ve never considered myself “disabled.” I’m completely mobile and if I work hard, I can learn to do anything I want to. I finally learned to tie my shoes and swim unassisted in grade five and mastering these things gives me hope that I can master others! With special education help in math, I was able to understand it… And the patient directors of my school play helped me master their stage directions! My disability issues can make activity difficult, but nothing is impossible for me. For me, “disabled” means you CAN’T do something.

3. Do people treat you differently or unfairly because of your disability/condition? How so? Can you give an example(s)?

For the Dandy Walker Variant and hydrocephalus, my parents, teachers, doctors and therapists gave me many provisions to protect my shunt, try to prevent me from falling or getting injured and handle writing and walking fatigue. I feel like these provisions made my disability more apparent than the actual symptoms did.

4. If you could tell the world one thing about what it’s like to live with your disability/condition, what would it be?

I always feel sick for at least part of every day. I feel some sort of pain every day, whether from my neck, legs, feet or shunt. I tire or weaken easily. I opt not to do a lot of things I want to do because I know they’ll make me feel worse. I feel confused sometimes. I think about my health everyday.

I could never narrow it down to one thing because I have so many issues that affect me in different ways and in different situations.

5. What do you like about living with your disability/condition?

The APD has helped me fall deeper in love with writing because I am able to say so much more with writing than with talking.

I have become very attuned to my body. I feel that it gives me messages all of the time about what I need to do to be healthy and feel well.

I have become very patient with myself. I think about all of those times I had to struggle to learn something or complete a task that was difficult for me. Those times make me feel like I can do anything I want.

I am so aware that my health issues cannot kill me that I feel kind of invincible. I feel lucky to not have to deal with anything disabling or life threatening.

6. Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I’ve spent my whole life wondering when or if I should disclose my issues because I’m afraid of stigma. Sometimes I feel lucky that my disability is invisible because I get to avoid being defined by my issues. There are other times when I wish my issues were visible so that others will feel sympathy for me without me having to explain how I’m feeling or how my issues are affecting me. I have a hard time looking someone in the eye and saying “I’m having a hard time.”

**

Sometime in the past few days, I noticed my blogroll had been deleted during one of the many times I re-organized the widgets in the sidebar. I decided this was as good a time as any to update my blogroll and add a few new favorites to the list. In addition to my favorite feminist links, I’m adding a second section, a dedicated “Disability Blogroll”. While I’m sure many of these bloggers are actually feminist, the focus of the blogs are living with disabilities and/or chronic medical conditions.

Here are the blogs I’ve added to this section. This list is by no means all-inclusive and I would love to add more. If you have a suggestion for this blogroll, please email me and let me know at danine@danine.net

The Links!

• Beyond Passing Time
• cripchick’s weblog
• Feminist Scribbler
• Frida Writes
• Gimp Girl
• Radical Consent
• The Deal with Disability
• Wheelchair Dancer

Photo via CaptPiper on Flickr

Editor’s Note: Today’s post is the second in a series of interviews with women living with disabilities and/or chronic medical conditions.

Name: Sadie Kay
Blog: Radical Consent
Bio: I am a young professional in my mid-twenties.

1. What is your disability or chronic medical condition? How does it affect you both generally and on a daily basis?

I’m bipolar. For the most part, I’ve developed enough workarounds that I can live with my condition – though I am certainly not at ease with it. I’ve been diagnosed long enough that I find that the medication affects me more than the illness itself. I tend to be very tentative in the world because I am so used to part of the fabric of my perceptions getting pulled out from under me. Short term, because I feel that my illness makes me undeserving, I’ve spent a lot of time living in survival mode, scavenging what I need, emotionally and socially, to get by. Long term, one of the hardest things about being bipolar is keeping secret the reason behind all the differences in daily routines that taking medications brings about. I have to have a consistent story about what I don’t do and I have to stick to the story.

2. Do you consider yourself “disabled”? Do other people see you as “disabled”?

Yes and no. I consider myself disabled, but I very rarely use these words in describing myself to another person. I feel like disability is something more serious than what I have. I also struggle with my own tendency to see disability as a lack, or a failure to be “normal,” so I hesitate to identify that way publicly. Privately, I know that this illness makes my life, my day-to-day existence, hard in a way that I wouldn’t otherwise encounter.

But no, I don’t identify publicly that way. And others don’t see me as disabled, probably because they don’t know about my condition. I haven’t been able to give up hope that I’ll transform into a non mentally ill version of myself, and so I spend a lot of public energy keeping up appearances.

3. Do people treat you differently or unfairly because of your disability/condition? How so? Can you give an example(s)?

There’s the inevitable “have you tried x cure yet….?” Even so, lately it’s been less that people treat me unfairly than that I dread their doing so. A few years ago, when I first started school, my health insurance company denied me medication that I needed and had been prescribed. When I went to the student health center to find a doctor to advocate for me, the center called the cops. They kicked me and hospitalized me against my wishes – for asking for an advocate, for admitting that I wasn’t taking medication I couldn’t obtain. Because that was the first time I asked for help I have little to compare that experience to. Though most of the injuries have healed, I still fear reaching out for help because of those events. As a result, I feel like I’m expected to be super-human: never ask for help, never admit weakness or exhaustion, never break.

4. If you could tell the world one thing about what it’s like to live with your disability/condition, what would it be?

It’s not the disease that’s bad in itself, it’s how people treat the disease that makes mental illness unbearable. I suffer far more from well meaning or fearful or just plain bigoted people who haven’t bothered to learn about who and what I am before judging me than I suffer from being bipolar. I don’t mean just the big things like the insurance denials and the difficulty of finding a doctor who doesn’t judge me and trying to find someone who’s willing to date a crazy girl – I mean the little comments like “I’m so schizophrenic today!” and “wow, are you pmsing or are you just crazy?” They make a difference, you know. To me, if not to you.

5. What do you like about living with your disability/condition?

As much as I complain and am scared of it, I love the fragility and contingency of my life with a mental illness. When I had my first break I hallucinated. A lot. Over time, I learned that my mind can’t manufacture shadows for hallucinations, and I go through a phase during and after hallucinations where I check for reality by gauging the shadows of everything I see. I really like this phase. I spend so much time paying attention to shadows and sunlight that I find the world stunningly beautiful. I find my mind’s ability to repair itself again and again and still see sunlight and shadows instead of bugs under my skin something of a miracle.

6. Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I don’t know how many other people feel this way, but I see my illness as a kind of constraint. There’s this imaginary other-me, who I would have or could have been if I wasn’t bipolar, that I measure myself against. And when you struggle with a mental illness, measuring yourself against your hypothetical self is a good recipe for feeling that you-as-you-are don’t measure up. But then, I feel that I don’t fully measure up as disabled either. I just think it would be helpful if we could recognize that normal and disabled are continuums, not absolutely itty-bitty boxes we have to fit in the same way.

"Dumbo... gives you an idea of what it feels like for me: skydiving without a parachute" -Sadie Kay

This weekend, the New York Times reported this sobering tidbit:

One in eight Americans now receives food stamps, including one in four children.

Also, from the Dallas Morning News’ boy band roundup:

Teenage rock star Nick Jonas pledged $25,000 from his family foundation to the North Texas Food Bank during a tour Saturday that thrilled 140 volunteers, including many from his core audience of young teens.

Apparently, there’s a hunger crisis going on in this country. (When a Jonas Brother decides to make Dallas-area hunger his cause célèbre, the problem has reached epic proportions.) The starving children aren’t just in Africa or Appalachia any more. They’re in Akron, Albuquerque and Antigo, WI, too. My mom donates money to the local food pantry every month and I’ve decided I can do my part, too. Hence, my outrageous act for today was to set up an automatic $20 payment to the food pantry every month via my bank’s online banking system.Twenty dollars doesn’t sound like a lot but over the course of a year, it’s $240. If just ten of you lovely readers did the same, we would’ve donated $2,400 to help our friends and neighbors get some basic groceries.

The scary part of all this is that more and more people are experiencing hunger all the time. Food stamp usage in my county in northern Wisconsin is at 10% among all people but jumps to 21% among children, an overall increase of 49% since 2007.  (Check out the NY Times’ scary but illuminating map here.)

If someone like me, who receives SSI payments as her only income, can afford to donate $20/month to the local food pantry, how much can you give?

Find your local food pantry at Feeding America

Photo credit: maeliza on Flickr