note: usually, the post I write is an add-on to the audio clip, but the above audio is a transcript. 

This post is a follow up to my video about how I feel compassion is often weaponized so that people can avoid consequences. My addendum to the phrase “if you wanted to, you would,” is “even if you want to, and you can’t—for very valid and legitimate reasons—you still are responsible for the consequences, and you’re not entitled to continued access to me if that means I’m repeatedly not getting my needs met.”

In response, a couple of people brought up that folks with disabilities often get discarded for not being able to meet other people’s needs even when they want to.

This is written with the following thoughts as a baseline:

1. The word “disability” is too big umbrella for you to expect me to address every possible relationship and context. People have different capacities and limitations.
2. Accessibility for people with physical and mental disabilities is a structural issue, and society is currently doing a shit job of accommodating everyone’s needs.
3. People with disabilities are still people.
4. All people are capable of harm, regardless of intent.
5. I, as an individual, believe in—and actively practice—meeting people where they are.
6. My boundaries are informed by my experiences. You likely have different values and boundaries than I do. Without knowing anything about you, my baseline assumption is that yours suit your life. It’s okay if you wouldn’t do what I do. My practices in my relationships do not have to mirror yours.

Okay, let’s talk:

In my offline life, I don’t lead with either my trauma or my neurodivergence, which means I’m constantly being told how hard it is for people who have either of those to be thoughtful, social, considerate, empathetic, caring, community-oriented, capable, etc, by people who don’t realize who they’re telling.

When I point out that it’s not okay for someone to keep dropping the ball for something that either matters to me on a sentimental level, or costs me time/money to repair on a more urgent level, I get the disability consideration line.

If I point out a man’s misogynistic behavior towards me, people jump in to ask if I’ve considered that he might be neurodivergent. If I point out a white person’s racism, have I considered her trauma and disability?

It feels like general audiences don’t think to approach me with either of the following assumptions:

1. I, as a Black woman, might also have disabilities and traumas, and
2. I, as Maacah Davis—the specific individual that I am—have a consistent pattern of treating people with extensive grace and compassion. I am a reasonable woman. In my interpersonal relationships, I’ve worked to earn the assumption of good intent. So if I’m raising an issue, it just might be valid.

Then, when I say, “hi, I am also struggling with [X], [Y], and [Z], so it’s both insulting and hurtful for you to insist that someone like me can’t do what I do,” the goalpost gets moved. The response becomes, “well, Maacah, you can’t expect people to be good at things just because you are. You can’t hold people to the same standard you hold yourself. You can’t expect yourself out of other people.”

Remember: despite what my instagram follower count might imply, I live primarily offline. People have been silencing me with these phrases since I was a teenager. It’s only after years of self-work that I have the courage to speak up for myself, which is why I don’t back down. My convictions are intentional and carefully considered. When I was younger, it was very distressing to repeatedly get the message that I wasn’t worth considering in the way I was being asked to consider others. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean to hurt me. If it becomes a pattern, I’m allowed to disengage. It doesn’t matter if your mental health diagnosis is the reason. It doesn’t matter if you can’t help it. I am allowed to disengage from any person who is harming me, regardless of their intent. It is unfair to ask me to sacrifice myself at the altar of you.

Without my glasses, I can’t see well enough to drive safely. I feel it would be irresponsible of me to get behind the wheel of a car knowing that. Sure, you could argue, “well, glasses are expensive. Some people can’t afford them.” That is true. AND I’m still responsible for any accidents I might cause. If you said you didn’t want to ride in a car I was driving because of it, would it be fair to call you ableist, or would it be more appropriate to direct that rage to a society that has made sight aids so cost-prohibitive? And, in that moment, would it not be more progressive for us to look at more accessible solutions—maybe, you could drive us both? Or, could we carpool with other people going to the same place? Maybe we call a taxi? 

In that instance, it’s not about what I want to be able to do: I’d love to have perfect vision and be able to drive without glasses. I want to, but I can’t.
That’s not a moral failing. It’s not a character flaw.

Now, if I insist on driving, and throw a tantrum because you won’t get into the passenger seat while I drive without my glasses, I firmly believe you would be well within your rights to end our relationship and disengage from me.

The irony of anyone thinking I hold people to too high a standard is that I don’t actually expect myself out of other people. I don’t even demand their best. What I do is base my decisions on how they consistently engage me. I meet people where they are. You’re not going to get lectures and repeated complaints from me for not being able to show up in the way I need you to.

I will never forget my rage the day an offline friend told me she felt insulted by the fact that when she’d no-showed to our plans, I’d moved forward without her.
I wasn’t angry at her for not showing up, and I hadn’t picked a fight about it. But somehow, she had the nerve to say to me, “Maacah, it hurts my feelings that you don’t trust me. I just feel like I’m trying my best, and you’re always expecting me to fail.”

Confused, I pointed out, “but, you didn’t show up though.”
I hadn’t nagged her with reminders. I hadn’t voiced any warnings or ultimatums. I had just kept in the back of my mind that based on her consistent pattern of previous behavior, she was likely to either be prohibitively late, or not show up at all. So, I’d made a contingency plan. In the case of her absence, I was going to move without her in [X] way, and I did. I feel like that was me meeting her where she was.
Having that back up plan was the reason I wasn’t mad at her, so it was with confusion that I responded, “Why are you mad at me? I didn’t even get mad at you for not showing up. I just used a back up plan. I would have been screwed without one, but I wasn’t, so we’re okay. What right do you have to be angry here?”

As a better adjusted adult, I understand now that she wasn’t really angry with me. She was angry with herself, and I was just the most convenient target: my actions revealed an inadequacy that she was likely insecure about, and her anger had nothing to do with me. But at the time, it pissed me off that I was being lectured for having an alternate plan by the person who’d necessitated that I have one in the first place.

That is unfair.

There are countless people I will never be able to befriend, because I don’t have the capacity to meet their needs.

My decision to not be in a relationship with someone who has needs I don’t have the capacity to meet doesn’t mean they’re a terrible person who does not deserve love.

It means I know myself well enough to understand my limitations.

I am not a storm shelter. I am not built to weather the storms of my life and yours, and lying to either myself or you about my capacity just so that I can seem like a “better” person than I am isn’t productive to me. I don’t need you to think I’m a good person for pretending to be able to provide support that I can’t. I do need to be honest with myself so I can show up for the people I care about.

As I publish this, I am waiting for the arrival of a new order of the churros I ordered last night, which I’d been saving for today. While churros don’t usually need to be refrigerated, I’d forgotten that I’d ordered the ones topped with strawberries and bananas: cut fruit which I allowed to mold on the kitchen counter overnight and now have to throw away. I have ADHD so, for all of my systems and lists and processes, sometimes things fall through the cracks.

I didn’t mean to forget the churros on the counter overnight. It wasn’t my conscious fault that I forgot.

There’s no use now in fixating on how I could have prevented it, or resenting myself for the wasted money. there’s no amount of frustration that will undo the damage.

However, the conclusion remains the same: I still can’t eat them. I still have to deal with the consequences: the churros must be tossed, and I had to pay for a new order.

This happened. It sucks. It’s fine this time. However, if I forget again, I *am* going to have to figure out a solution: either I set an alarm reminding me to refrigerate what I haven’t eaten by a certain time; or, I only order it when I’m ready to eat it in the moment; or, I don’t order that particular dessert again—whatever the solution is, there needs to be one, because I can’t afford to keep wasting food.