I think it’s probably OK!

I didn’t either; I just learned about it this morning. Thank you for amplifying. ❤️ 🔥

In disability communities, grief isn’t episodic. It’s cumulative. It layers. It reverberates. We lose people who should’ve had decades more time—because the world is engineered to wear us down. And yet, in that same world, disabled people keep building life with one another anyway.

Alice reminded us that these bonds are world-making. They are the underground architecture that lets us survive a political order that treats disabled life as disposable. She insisted on holding disabled brilliance close, refusing the erasure capitalism demands.

When we talk about disability ancestors, we’re not talking about some distant, abstract lineage. We’re talking about people who fought, organized, wrote, dreamed, and survived alongside us. People who left us tools, strategies, jokes, tenderness, and a politic were responsible for carrying forward.

Alice showed us how to honor that inheritance: by activating it, by actively practicing the kind of solidarity that keeps us tethered to one another. By making more space, more access, more possibility—especially for those who are told they’re “too much” or “too complicated.”

Her work was a reminder that memory is not passive. It’s an active practice of tending to the filaments she described—those blazing threads that glow warm with the people who shaped us. To tend them is to extend them. To extend them is to refuse the isolation the system relies on.

Disability ancestors aren’t gone; they accompany us. In our organizing, in mutual aid, in the awkward joy of surviving another day that wasn’t designed for us. They’re in every access met, every gentle reminder to slow down, every firm refusal to abandon one another.

Alice helped us see that legacy as ballast. A grounding force. A reminder that none of us are doing this alone, and none of us ever were. The future we fight for is stitched together with the lessons and loves of those who came before.

To honor Alice—and all our disability ancestors—is to keep building that connective tissue she described. To love fiercely, politically, on purpose. To ensure the filaments they left behind continue to glow in us, and through us, long after the world has forgotten their names. We won’t.

Please consider reading this letter and signing on in opposition to this repressive, craven decision.

docs.google.com/document/d/1...

Notice how they also have fuck all to say about immigrants who are being terrorized by ICE/CBP

I believe we can dismantle these systems and the structures and politics that produce them. That requires work. It requires organizing.