Dear weary folks,

(Content/TW: Discussion of racist and ableist violence, mentions of sexual violence)

Dear fellow organizers, activists, rabble-rousers, and rebels,

Dear disabled community,

Well, the 2016 election sure was unexpected; looking back, nearly everybody got it wrong. The pollsters, pundits, and talking heads did not see any of this coming. The shock can still be felt around the world, throughout the country, and in our community. But is this not a macrocosm for what we experience every day?

To the fearful and disheartened majority,

Hi. My name is Zack Weinstein. Thirty-one years old. Straight white cisgender male. Married. Actor. Mostly TV. (Ugh, so LA.) Also: Quadriplegic. Power wheelchair. Spinal cord injury. When I was nineteen. Trust me, it really doesn't matter how it happened.

And a quick piece of advice: Don't ask strangers in wheelchairs what happened to them. That might seem pretty obvious but you would be surprised. Develop a sincere connection with someone first. Then you can ask.

Dear Young Disabled Writer and Disabled Writers Not Yet Born,

When I was born in 1960, nobody knew whether I would live or die. When, after four weeks in an incubator, my parents were able to take me home, nobody knew whether I’d be able to walk.

Now, here I am fifty-six years later, alive and, most of the time, still walking.  

You might ask: What does this have to do with the disturbing results of the recent U.S. election? Why is this story important for me to impart to you at this time?

Darling,​

Words for hope are just words. Words are spells. Your spelling is terrible. Drink some water.

Drink. Know the water is rising. The fuels these men use, what fuels these men. It makes the seas rise. The men do not believe in climate change. You cannot own a climate. Change is not the same as progress. The sea creeps closer by 3.2 millimeters every year. It’s a glacial pace.