Mia Mingus and Stacey Milbern are two queer disabled diasporic Korean women of color in the process moving from the South to the Bay to create home and community with each other.
This tumblr documents their journey. For more info about Mia, visit her blog at the south doesn’t need martyrs
Dear Mia,
Eight more days before I leave North Carolina and fly to California. The reality of how quickly the adventure is approaching is overwhelming. I’ve taken off work to deal with all the details of my move: transferring insurance, applying for medicaid, calling doctors — all my access needs are negotiated through the medical industrial complex — wading through a hundred attendant applications to hire 3-4 short-term people, working with friends & co-conspirators helping me get set up out there, accessibilizing the house, preparing for cross-country travel, repairing my wheelchair, packing, saying goodbyes… I don’t think this would be possible without you and other loved ones taking on big pieces of the logistical work for me.
My heart swells with excitement at what I know will be a life-changing experience. At the same time my mind goes to a place of being so angry at my anticipation, so absolutely frustrated with my own eagerness to leave. I wonder what would have happened if we were embarking on this adventure a year sooner… For me, what would our move look like if my heart did not feel so broken? What would be the story I would tell if I could speak of North Carolina without my voice cracking? Would we even go?
When people tell me congratulations for “escaping” or “fleeing” the South/North Carolina/Fayetteville (they actually say that), the fight in me comes out. Here resiliency is as true as thick as real as humidity wet on your skin, I say. Here legacy means living a mile from where your ancestors were slaves for the man you see at the grocery store (my friend’s family story). Here love means showing up again & again & again. Everything I learned about tradition, beauty, honesty, reconciliation, commitment, and taking care of each other, I learned here. Here. In the South. In Fayetteville, NC.
But at the same time, those are not the only stories I have to tell. I look back on 2010 and I feel the weight of isolation. No one noticed if I was here or not. It didn’t matter if queer / people of color resilient community existed or not, I never had access to the intimacy of it. And this is so true for many. My communities did not know how to love me. That is as real as all of the other stories. Anger pinches my throat because I love the South so much and yet I don’t know what else to do. Staying is no longer an option, for now at least.
I hope that as we talk about building home, the South can be centered in it. I want to find ways to be accountable to home here in all the ways people were accountable to me and all the ways I dreamed we could all learn to be.
It’s like I love this pain a little too much / Love my heart all busted up / Something ‘bout her, we just don’t work / But I can’t walk away / It’s like I love this pain… - Lady Antebellum
Love,
Stacey
