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  • Writer's pictureErin Clark

Iconic Hair and activism

This is a selfie from a couple years ago when I was in Namibia and I learned that the particles of desert sand that blow in the wind, gave me the most incredible volume. It’s a fitting intro because selfies and my hair is usually 90% of my content. Lately, my hair does not look like this, it is not this disney princess, sex icon red, and my heart, which is normally consumed with passion for selfies, is... my heart is...

well, that’s the other thing you should know. I’m a writer. Normally, I’m good as with words, as I am with selfies, as I am at being disabled, but right now. I’m...

My heart is...


I get called an activist because I’m visibly disabled whenever I do things. So, if I post a video of me pole dancing, because I pole dance and like to show off, It’s interpreted as a political statement. People put in genuine energy to dig for a message that usually isn’t there. I mean, the message is “look what I can do! Weeee!” My need for attention is fairly straightforward. I find the assumption of activism, of a moral message, of an inspiring motivation itself an interesting reflection. Because of what it says about those who go there, I’m the canvas, the object, but the message is not mine. And my participation is somewhat involuntary. So, I’d still insist: artist, not activist.

Except, for the last two weeks I’ve been explicitly activisting. As in, not by way of merely existing. but by deliberate action.

Most of you are not Canadian, where this issue takes place, so I won’t laden you with nation-specific legislation (just enough to say I’ve been part of the opposition to Bill C-7, which you can read more about here). I’ve been using my words to compose submissions to the Senators, my mind absorbed with the permutations of arguments and counter arguments. today, I exclaimed, is this wonderland? Are these people smoking caterpillars?

I take a lot of naps, I cry, I draft another letter.

And I miss writing for you. Genuinely. I miss you. I miss my old heart, my usual words and my desert hair. But they are needed elsewhere.

So, hi! Welcome! Wasn't my hair pretty once? Come in, get cozy, I’ll be back soon

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