"When
your legs fall into a deep sleep/unmoving, near dead/you
are the embodiment of a blatant/physical flaw, a visible
derangement/you are the ambassador of human
tragedy/symbol of vulnerability/uncertainty/of what the
future holds tomorrow or twenty years from now" -
excerpt from "Ode to Legs, A Map of This
World," by Dara McLaughlin.
When the disability community loses a champion, the
world loses a unique voice of truth. Dara McLaughlin,
gifted poet, visual artist, teacher, disability activist
and humanitarian, died on May 26, after a long illness.
McLaughlin, originally from Buffalo, moved to Rio
Rancho in February of 1996, enamored with the beauty of
her new surroundings and the chance of a fresh start.
She plunged into the poetry scene of Albuquerque and
Santa Fe, making her mark as a disability poet and
activist.
I met Dara in 1998, just weeks after moving to
Albuquerque for the very same reasons she had. We had
exchanged e-mails before I moved, meeting on a
disability message board. She was articulate and witty,
and I was thrilled to have a friend waiting for me in a
city I had only seen twice before. I was astonished by
her openness, confidence, strength of character and
incredible beauty.
McLaughlin was an established poet by the time I
arrived, and she took me under her wing after reading my
work. She introduced me to disability poetry, but, more
importantly, she taught me to be a happy member of the
disability community.
Before I met her, I didn't associate with
wheelchair-users. She taught me how to be proud of my
disability, something that was foreign to me. I avoided
disabled people, afraid of being rejected by the
able-bodied. She taught me the opinions of others
regarding my worth didn't mean a thing.
"Hold your head up", she said, "you
are a human being, just like everybody else."
To have a friend like her was truly a gift. She was a
warrior, honing her activist skills to a sharp point. We
formed a poetry duet called "No Shy Bones,"
declaring that neither of us had a shy bone in our
bodies and truth would be the bedrock of our work.
We performed in several venues, including one that no
other poet had before: the Bernalillo Detention Center's
Man-to-Man Project, comprised of teenaged boys
incarcerated for serious crimes. We read our work
without fear, and the reactions from the inmates were
wonderful. The boys surrounded us, asking how they could
become poets. It was the highlight of our short
collaboration.
I don't know if I would be writing this column if we
never met. McLaughlin was, and still is, a shining
example of a life well lived.
A poetry memorial service will be held on July 20 at
the Corrales Library at 7 p.m. - open to the public.
McKee, a wheelchair user, is a freelance writer
and producer. You can e-mail her at chairgrrl@chairgrrl.com.
