Queer Zine Lit

            It was 1993 and I had been sitting in the car for four hours.  I finally saw the line of cars.  “See you in August” was stated on a bumper sticker on the car in front of ours.  All the cars were decorated with rainbow stickers and luggage and were filled with beautiful womyn[1] from around the world.  Womyn got out of their cars and stretched from the long drives to reach the land.  Everyone was meeting those in line around them and some decided to walk up and down the lane and see how long the line was.  Every so often, we moved forward a few feet, put the car in park, and waited another ten minutes before the next move closer to the front gate. I was surrounded by trees, blue sky, a shining sun, and wildlife.  The sight was beautiful to my eyes.  The sounds of womyn’s voices laughing, singing, talking, chanting and cheering was music to my ears.  The thoughts of the performances, workshops, crafts area, and visiting with my sisters filled my head.  I took a deep breath in and absorbed my surroundings.  I was finally home.

            The Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival (MWMF) began in 1975 to celebrate womyn and womyn’s music.  For 29 years, Festival has been a place for womyn’s community to discover and build a womyn-identified culture.  An organizer of Festival states, “We manifest our reality of a true counterculture, one where we create a world devoted to social justice, where womyn do the work, have big fun and rock on.  For one week, we celebrate diversity, strength and beauty of womyn.”[i]

          MWMF is home to me.  My mother began taking me to what I call “heaven on earth” since I was a baby.  I have only missed attending Festival one time out of my entire life.  Festival has shaped me, taught me, energized me, and been a part of who I am throughout the years and will continue to influence me for years to come.  Womyn of color, old womyn, young womyn, big womyn, small womyn, butch womyn, femme womyn, disabled womyn, able-bodied womyn, all types of womyn come together as womyn and are part of this wonderful event.  Festival works to embrace diversity and in its “Honoring Our Diversity” portion of their program, it states, “It is our intention that this Womyn’s Festival belong to and reflect all womyn to the fullest extent and definition.  It is our belief that each womyn brings her essential identity whatever that is.  And, it is our hope that each womyn leaves feeling more empowered and more infused with her strength as a womyn.”[ii]  However, in the eight years I’ve attended Festival as a womyn with a mobility disability, I do not feel as though Festival reflects womyn with disabilities (specifically physical disabilities) or includes them in the Festival culture.

            Festival organizers have attempted to address the needs of womyn with physical disabilities over the years.  When Festival began, the paths were dirt footpaths and they remained that way until 1981 when snow fencing was laid to provide wheelways.  After a few years of snow fencing, Festival workers switched to laying upside-down carpet for wheelways and this carpet method is still used today.[iii] Also, in 1981 a centrally located area was established for womyn with disabilities and was called the Differently Abled Camping Area.  Womyn were allowed to drive their cars and RVs to this area and camp out of them.[iv]  However, some womyn not only needed a centrally located camping area, they also needed services to be provided or available.

In 1978, a womyn called Festival organizers and said she was coming to Festival and wanted to know how Festival was able to offer her for support.  It was this womyn’s phone call that prompted the creation of DART (the Disabled Area Resource Tent, now known as the Disabled Access Resource Team).[v]  A little later came the establishment of DART RV, which was located much closer to the front gate and much farther from the center of Festival.  With the coming of DART RV, there were a couple advantages:  more space for womyn to camp from their vehicles and in turn, creating more opportunities for womyn with disabilities to come to festival.  However, there were also some drawbacks for the disability community.  Womyn were no longer able to camp from their vehicles in DART Downtown and because DART RV is located quite a distance from the festival mainland, this caused issues for womyn who were unable to make the trip due to physical mobility, health issues, etc.  It even meant the end of attending Festival for some womyn because they were unable to make the trip to the main areas of Festival.[vi] Other accessibility advances in 1981 included the addition of accessible showers and portajanes (portable toilets) that were equipped with handrails and ramps, a separate DART dining area and food line, as well as DART seating areas at all concert stages.[vii]

            Eight years later, in 1989, more steps towards full access were taken.  Over ¼ mile of asphalt was laid creating smooth wheelways to some primary Festival areas.  For access to other areas of Festival, a DART shuttle service was created and during this time, improvements were made to the service to “provide a more integrated shuttle service for womyn camping in DART and allow a more effective traffic flow and service.”[viii]  In 1993 another ¼ mile of asphalt was laid.  This path provided access from the central area of Festival outward to the workshop areas as well as the night stage.  Also in 1993, additions were made to the DART RV camping area including electricity additions, accessible showers and portajanes and a wheelway.[ix]

            Despite the numerous times Festival organizers had heard requests by womyn with disabilities for more paved paths, especially to the acoustic stage, no additional asphalt was laid until 2001 when an asphalt path was put into place in the workers area to provide easier access for workers with disabilities.[x]  Since 2001, no additional asphalt has been laid, badly needed repairs to the existing asphalt paths have not been made, and the requests made by womyn with disabilities continued to be ignored.

            Barefoot, I walked along the dusty dirt path feeling the sand move between my toes.  The sun was beating down on my bare back and my hair was blowing in the cool breeze.  I was heading to the acoustic stage to see Holly Near perform.  We had just eaten blue Popsicles together the day before while she was signing her latest publication.  I was an 8-year-old girl who loved Holly Near and wasn’t about to miss her performance for anything.  I stopped at the dinner tent and as I waited in line, I watched womyn doing tricks so they could get in the front of the line.  One womyn juggled and another did a comedy act.  I filled my plate with a big burrito, my favorite meal at Festival, some chips and salsa and, of course, watermelon.  With my plate of food in one hand and my folding chair in the other, I headed up the twisting, steep woodchip path to the acoustic stage.  I sat there eating my dinner and watching the womyn around me.  Womyn were everywhere – naked womyn, large womyn, old womyn, womyn of color, young girls.  Their bodies were painted, pierced, tattooed, or decorated in festiwear.  There I sat, on my low chair, eating dinner and thinking about freedom.  I was free in every shape and form.  My body was free – free to breathe in the air around me without being covered with clothing.  My mind was free – free of thought of what was going on outside of Festival or what I had to go home to.  My voice was free – free to say the word “lesbian” without dirty looks or comments from those around me.  I was free – free to go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted.  I was free!

            To me, freedom is one of the best parts of Festival.  Prior to my disability, I was free in all freedom’s shapes and forms.  Since I became disabled, my freedom at Festival has been stripped, not because of my disability itself, but because of the inaccessibility of Festival.  One of the best qualities of Festival is not being committed to things and not having a set schedule.  Waking up, lounging around and planning the day as it went along is what I did for years.  However, when I began attending Festival in a wheelchair that changed.  The asphalt paths do not extend to all main areas of the land including all workshop areas and the acoustic stage.  The paths I have to take to get to those areas are impossible for me to roll through leaving me no choice but to depend on the DART shuttle service.  In order to utilize this service, I must submit a ride request by midnight the night prior to the event, meaning, I have to commit myself to something.  If I submit the slip and then decide the following day I don’t feel up to going, I am subject to rude remarks and I lose credibility, which makes getting another ride difficult. Also, when I ride the DART shuttle, it often takes much longer than if I were able to roll myself.  For the past eight years, I have been unable to experience the freedom I once did because Festival organizers refuse to lay the necessary asphalt paths.

            Being friendly to the environment is a huge concern for Festival organizers as well as many womyn of Festival.  Each year, the Festival infrastructure is set up and taken down completely.  The land is returned to the wild immediately following each Festival so the organizers prefer to not have many permanent aspects of Festival. I respect this and believe it is an important value.  However, the pavement is not just some destructive act to the earth; rather it is freedom for womyn.  Nomy Lamm, a lesbian with a [xi]disability writes,

“We all admitted to feeling somewhat guilty for having to rely on cars and pavement and other technological and industrial evils – things that are generally scorned by our community.  Of course, we said, we agree that some types of development and technology are bad, but to stereotype people who rely on things like cars, pavement, computers and technology in general as lazy overconsumers is to basically ignore the existence of disabled people.  Technology isn’t always just a matter of convenience; it can be a matter of freedom.”

            While Festival organizers may be trying to protect the land, the truth about damage to the environment is that laying pavement actually prevents ongoing damage to the land. Permanent paved paths eliminate the gradual erosion caused by foot paths and woodchip paths as well as discourage womyn from straying off the intended path. Paved paths are a “one-time” insult to the environment, while foot paths represent a continuing offense to environmental integrity.

In the annual Festival program it states, “In our hearts we all want to bring the best of what we have here, knowing that we have an opportunity to create community that can reflect the values and priorities that are truly important to us.”[xii]  Despite of this quote, I believe it is safe to say that equal access and freedom for womyn with physical disabilities has not been a true priority for Festival organizers.

            1986.  I left my tent to head to Gaya Girls Camp for some arts and crafts.  I walked through the Crafts camping area stopping to say hello to all my tenting neighbors.  I really enjoyed camping in Crafts, mostly because it was close to everything, unlike all the general camping areas.  I continued walking and I passed the worker’s area and where I saw the recycling womyn working away.  I waved and continued along the path.  I passed the Womyn of Color tent where several womyn of color were drumming.  The beating was in sync with my steps, my breathing, my heartbeat.  Next I passed the Over 40’s camping and in sight was the Over 50’s camping.  I turned down the woodchip path to Gaya Girls Camp where I spent the next hour painting.

            At Festival everything and almost everyone has a specific designated area where womyn can choose to gather for activities or camp for the week:  Womyn of Color, Over 40’s, Over 50’s, Chem Free, (no drugs or alchohol) Workers, Crafts, Camping with Children, Quiet Camping, Chem Free Camping, DART Camping, Deaf Way, Loud and Roudy Camping, Twilight Zone.  Even the seating areas at the three performance stages were outlined with string and enforced – DART seating, deaf seating, chem-free, chem.-ok, no smoking, smoking-ok.  The lines for stores were separated – crafts, workers and DART in one line, everyone else in another.  DART campers have their own kitchen area and food service on the other side of the street.  These areas are marked quite clearly, addressed in the annual program and are even used for advertising purposes – “In true feminist fashion, childcare is provided and disabled women have their own accessible camping area.”[xiii] At a first thought, it seems as though this is a way to allow womyn to build community, meet others like themselves, accommodate the needs of all womyn and provide options for womyn. However, we need to look at voluntary segregation versus involuntary segregation within Festival. We need to realize that the only womyn with choices at Festival are able-bodied womyn.

            By voluntary segregation, I mean able-bodied womyn have the choice of camping or gathering in an area limited to members of their sub-community, but those sub-communities aren’t their only option.  Womyn can choose where to sit at a concert, eat their meal, and what path to take from point A to point B.  Womyn who belong to the sub-communities I have listed above, with the exception of womyn with physical disabilities, have options and aren’t forced to remain in areas that are designated for them. 

            These areas have a different meaning for womyn with physical disabilities – their segregation is forced because they are prevented from having easy access to other Festival areas.  They are segregated into one camping section and are unable to camp in or visit their friends who camp in other areas. They are segregated in the kitchen lines and have their own accessible dining area that is always over-crowded. They are segregated in seating areas at stages, which are either off the side next to the speakers and are in the blazing sun.  They are unable to sit with large groups of friends, without disabilities, due to limited space in the designated area and they cannot sit anywhere else unless it is in the very back because their wheelchairs are too tall.  Womyn with disabilities are segregated everywhere throughout Festival and in no way are they able to choose to integrate themselves.  The option is simply not there.

            The segregation throughout Festival poses an issue for womyn with disabilities who have multiple identities.  Because the areas for womyn of color, over 40’s, over 50’s, etc. are not fully accessible, womyn with physical disabilities who belong to these sub-communities are forced to be only one part of their identity.  Able-bodied womyn with multiple identities can move in and out of sub-communities to which they belong and be true to all aspects of their identity.

Joseph Shapiro, author of No Pity, addresses the issue of segregation. “Segregation – whether the result of stairs or attitudes – creates harmful myths and stereotypes. Worse, it sets up a self-fulfilling prophecy for failure.  That disabled people are invisible or separated . . . is proof that they do not need inclusion or are even capable or worthy of it.”[xiv]  Segregation of the disability community has been occurring in several shapes and forms for many years.  While people think segregation is way of meeting the needs of people with disabilities, they forget to look at its implications or hear from those who are being segregated.  Helen Hervey is a yearly attendee of Festival and is one of the DART womyn with a physical disability.  In an interview with her, she discussed how she feels segregated and she does not see it as a good thing at all.[xv] 

One major implication of involuntary segregation is isolation. An able-bodied womyn said she visited DART only for workshops.[xvi]  I cannot remember when I have seen womyn who are not DART campers, come into the DART camping area to meet people.  I feel like the only people I interact with and meet at festival are other DART campers.  One DART camper said, “Many campers have never even been inside DART, and the older our population becomes, the more formerly able-bodied womyn will need to camp with us in the future.  It would be less spooky for them if they’d come be welcomed by us beforehand.”[xvii]  Shapiro said it best when he wrote, “Disabled people remain segregated, and non-disabled people do not get to know them.”[xviii]This is very prevalent in a space I would have never expected it to be.

This involuntary segregation also has a personal implication for me.  I attend Festival with a group of four and look forward to spending time with the womyn I only see once a year at Festival.  However, I am unable to eat dinner or attend concerts with a large group due to the limited size of the segregated areas for DART womyn.  At most, I can have two womyn with me.  This puts me in the situation where I have to choose who I want to spend what time with instead of sharing all of my Festival time with all of my womyn friends.

            My mother wanted me to watch her craft booth while she attended a workshop.  I loved being in charge of the booth, mostly because I enjoyed the cashier aspect of selling her stained glass.  As I sat there watching all the different womyn come in and out of the booth, I felt at peace.  I felt loved.  I felt respected, safe, and valued.  Most of all, I felt like I belonged.  I belonged here, here at Festival with all these amazing womyn around me.  This was my community and the community in which I fit perfectly.

            Festival itself creates community, which is one of the primary reasons womyn attend year after year.  A sense of community can bring feelings of peace, belonging, love and power.  Community, one of the most important aspects of Festival to me, is another thing that I have been stripped of due to my disability.  When I look around at the general Festival community, I do not see myself nor do I see womyn like me.  I ask myself:  Where are the performers and crafts womyn with disabilities?  Where are the disability workshops?  Why don’t I see more womyn with physical disabilities attend Festival?  Where are the pictures of womyn with disabilities on the Festival website?  Where do womyn with physical disabilities fit in this wonderful community that Festival has created?  The answer to the latter is– we don’t.  In an issue of Off Our Backs, the sense of community for womyn with disabilities at Festival was addressed:  “These womyn also still feel some degree of distance from the non-disabled festival participants. . . there is still tension between these communities.  In this sense, the political struggles of greater society continue in the context of the festival environment.”[xix]

            On average there are approximately 180 workshops per year offered on a variety of issues, identities, activities, and more. From 1984 all the way to 2000, there were only 43 workshops offered relating to an issue of disability in general.  That means only 0.01% of the total workshops are on a disability related topic.  These topics included learning American Sign Language, specific disability support groups, and a few on ableism and privilege.[xx] 

            There are also few performers, workers and crafts womyn with physical disabilities.  All four people I interviewed, as well as myself, have never seen a performer with a physical disability at Festival except one womyn –Therese Edell.  She was a big part of the Festival for years and was known as the voice of the Festival.  However, she always spoke from back stage.  When it comes to crafts womyn with physical disabilities, all the people I interviewed know of the same two or three individuals.  In 1993, a womyn with epilepsy wanted to work at Festival and she was refused because of her disability, or “liabilities” as the Festival organizers put it.  “The festival is assuming something that is not theirs to assume and in doing so robs this wommon of her integrity. . . This womon was denied admission to worker’s community . . . denied accessibility.”[xxi]

            While I, and many womyn of DART, do not feel represented or accepted in the Festival community, we have created our own community within DART.  We spend the entire festival with those with whom we are segregated, and because we share common identities and struggles at Festival, we have developed our own unique community.  When I asked Patricia, another DART camper, about the DART community she replied, “I must also say that I love camping in DART where I am among womyn who deal with many of the same issues I deal with in the outer world. There is a real sense of sisterhood and connection between us.  That is unique for me since I do not hang out with disabled folks at home.”[xxii]  When referring to the DART community, another camper said, “There is also a sense of purpose in DART, in that most everyone there is concerned about accessibility issues in some way.”[xxiii] 

            This sense of community among womyn with disabilities is a necessity for me.  Year after year I face access issues and ableist attitudes from womyn and I know that I can turn to the DART community to understand and to provide support. I find we often sit around and tell stories of acts of pity or ableist comments we had received throughout the day on the land.  For example, one womyn saw me rolling back to camp with a bag of ice on my lap and asked me if she could put her bag on my lap too because she didn’t want to carry it.  Every day I have to explain on several occasions not to pet my service dog, that he is well taken care of, yes he looks like every other dog you have seen, no he cannot play with you, etc.  This becomes extremely exhausting and gets old after the first two hours of Festival.  I feel safe within the DART community and know I will not hear ableist comments or have to explain anything about my service dog.  I am amongst womyn like me who do not view me as different and who are educated about disability issues.  While I am segregated into this sub-community, I am very empowered.  This is where I belong and this is where I feel accepted into the community.

            I slowly put my clothes into my suitcase. “Don’t forget clean socks,” I told myself.  I checked off each item as I placed it neatly inside my luggage.  Packing for Festival was one of my favorite things to do.  It was as if each item I packed brought me one step closer to being on the land. Each item was one part of Festival.  Each item played a role in my enjoyment of my time on the land.  I could not go without my tie-dyed dress I had gotten at Festival or my decorative scarves I would tie around my body when I would not wear clothes.  Each of these things makes up its own part of my Festival experience, but the true enjoyment came from being on the land.  Being amongst all the womyn, the feeling of safety, the freedom, the independence, and the music.  There was no other place I wanted to be.  What I had longed for for the past 11 ½ months and attended the past 12 years was finally here.  I was leaving for what I call Heaven on Earth.

            Festival is unique and brings something different to each womyn that attends.  For many, Festival is something they enjoy to a degree that is unexplainable and it is that enjoyment that keeps them coming back year after year.  Lisa Vogel states, “Each year the beauty of this gathering of womyn, a gathering I believe makes this planet that much bigger of a place by its very existence, exhilarates and re-energizes me for the next 11 months until we gather again in Michigan.”[xxiv]  I strongly agree with Lisa’s statement.  After each year at Festival, I am re-energized and ready to face the harsh world that surrounds me off the land.  However, my enjoyment level of Festival has decreased over the years – something I never thought would happen.

            The inaccessibility of the land is the largest factor contributing to the decrease in my enjoyment level.  Getting around Festival is rather difficult and consumes a lot of energy.  So, each day I have to monitor what I do to make sure I have enough energy left to attend evening events.  Also, as discussed earlier, I have to plan in advance for any workshops I want to attend or any performances at the acoustic stage so I can request the DART shuttle service.  Once on the shuttle, the ride becomes very stressful.  The bus is usually overcrowded and there is no place to put my service dog where he will be out of the way and not in danger of being stepped on.  I become the object of observation and discussion without being asked. Then once I reach those locations, I am literally trapped.  I cannot leave if I have a medical need to leave or just plain desire to leave.  I must wait for a DART shuttle to come back and get me.  There is no worse feeling than being trapped, completely helpless and at the mercy of someone else.  This feeling is common among womyn who have no choice but to depend on DART shuttles. 

            Another reason for my enjoyment of Festival decreasing is the ableism within the Festival community. Ableism is defined as, “a set of practices and beliefs that assign inferior value (worth) to people who have developmental, emotional, physical or psychiatric disabilities.”[xxv]  Ableism can be institutionalized within policies and practices as well as be personal reflecting on one’s individual beliefs about persons with disabilities. Finally, ableism can be internalized especially within the disability community.  At Festival, I feel I face institutionalized and personal ableism. 

            As I previously stated, I face ableist comments and several times a day.  In the annual Festival program, it states,

“Our differences create our exquisite beauty.  They can also create misunderstanding, apprehension, and sometimes mistrust.  Without a rigorous commitment to understanding and respecting those differences, they can also result in hurtful or offensive actions.  We want this gathering to be a safe place to broaden our experience, to make room for each other, to leave the learned prejudices out beyond the county roads.  This is more than an opportunity, however – it is an expectation which underlies each person’s welcome to participate.  Acts or attitudes of racism, sexism, anti-semitism, classism, ageism, ableism, homophobia, or violence against womyn in any form are not acceptable in this community, on this land.”[xxvi]

I believe many womyn attempt to obey this when it comes to any “ism” besides ableism.  I cannot recall ever hearing any comments that would be oppressive or offensive to other oppressed groups besides the disability community. Ableism is the one “ism” that is still seen as okay or is not addressed because of purposeful ignorance. It is not talked about and there is little being done to educate womyn about it.  It is something that remains invisible and very few able-bodied womyn have taken time to acknowledge their privilege.  Mary Frances Platt, an activist for disability rights at Festival, states, “What dykes, if any, have worked through their own ableism and can relate to a crip without shame, fear or disgust?”[xxvii]

            Besides facing ableism from the Festival community, I also face ableism from the Festival organizers.  I find it ironic that the Festival organizers themselves include ableism in the list of acts and attitudes that are not acceptable on the land, yet they themselves are blatantly ableist.  I am not saying that their ableism comes from a place of bigotry, nor am I saying it is intentional.  Most ableism comes from a lack of education.  However, I feel Festival organizers have been educated about the need for more accessibility in several ways including one-on-one conversations, letters, Festival feedback forms, publications, and hearsay.  I know I specifically have been putting the issues on the feedback forms for the past eight years and I am not the only one doing so.  I personally wrote a letter to Lisa Vogel and I spoke with her and I stressed the need for an asphalt path to the acoustic stage and was told it was not a possibility.  Patricia is also concerned that accessibility is not a priority among the Festival organizers. She explained, “Now we have to fight for any changes, and, generally speaking, they are slow in coming.  In relation to putting in more paved paths, it can seem to us DART womyn that the festival organizers are more concerned about the health of the land than they are about us and our needs.”[xxviii]  Another womyn who was a Festival worker in 1994, mentioned accessibility at a worker meeting and was verbally annihilated for questioning the Festival management’s commitment to accessibility and not being grateful for the access they had worked so hard to make.[xxix]  Several womyn have similar stories of hitting a dead end which leads to great frustration, but more importantly, it leads to feeling like a second-class citizen. 

            The ableism I face by womyn at Festival also exists within the lesbian-bisexual-gay-transgender (LBGT) community in and around the East Lansing, Michigan area.  LBGT-related events are often held in inaccessible places, the only lesbian bar in the area does not have accessible restrooms, and some LBGT-friendly resource centers or service providers are not accessible.  The attitudes in the East Lansing area are also similar in that I hear ableist comments, I am viewed or treated with pity, and I am isolated from the larger community.  Rarely do I see LBGT groups doing anti-ableist work and when I do, the attendance is very low.  Disability is something that seems to be invisible within the LBGT community despite the fact there are several LBGT individuals with disabilities. This deeply saddens me. When I think of the LBGT community, I think of people who are progressive, aware of all sorts of issues, fighting for all forms of equality, and who are very open-minded.  Why is it this community, with all of those qualities, fails to think about or address disability issues? 

            It is because of these things combined that I do not feel like I fit into the LBGT community.  My persexual queer identity is welcomed and accepted as long as I leave my disability at the door – I can only be one aspect of myself.  I agree with Erin Lawrence, who wrote, “We as a community can never be free until we accept all members of our community.  Not for what they are or present themselves as, but for who they are inside.”[xxx] It is time that the LBGT community step up and welcome all people regardless of their ability status.  They need acknowledge their privilege and work to include all members of their community.  By excluding people with disabilities they are only hurting themselves.  They are becoming an oppressive community that is not accepting of diversity within their community.  By doing so, they are losing power, strength and uniqueness that LBGT individuals with disabilities bring to the community.  In my eyes, they are not a true community.  A true community must reflect the diversity of all individuals who belong to that community.

            One way for this to be accomplished is for the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival to set an example. Festival aims to be inclusive of all womyn and desires to create a culture that is representative of all womyn.  In order to fully achieve this, Festival needs to begin listening to the concerns of DART womyn and make the necessary changes.  Festival organizers admit that, “Given the difficult terrain, the absence of any permanent structures, and the general primitive outdoor setting, the Festival is not an easily accessible event.  Even at best, the Michigan Festival environment is still a stretch for some womyn.”[xxxi]  Now it is time that they do something about it. Festival organizers cannot use physical access barriers as an excuse to discourage womyn with physical disabilities from attending festival.  The fact that they are ignoring this issue makes access more of an attitudinal barrier which is often more hurtful than a physical barrier.

            I imagine rolling to the acoustic stage with my notebook.  I stop along the path and look at the nature around me. I take out my notebook and write, “Festival has come along way with access.  After years of being forced to depend on the DART shuttles, I am free of that.  I can come and go to all events as I please.  I rolled to the acoustic stage for the first time yesterday. It was amazing.  Freedom and independence have arrived.  There has also been some education on ableism within the womyn’s community.  I actually attended a couple workshops this week on able-bodied privilege. I’ve been on the land for five days and haven’t heard any ableist comments.  I am able to enjoy festival to the fullest.  My days no longer are consumed with access battles and educating womyn around me.  I can focus all my energy on enjoying festival and all the things that come with it.  For the first time since I became disabled, I feel accepted.  I feel community.  I feel free.  I am home and never want to leave.”