Dear Dreambook, I Am Not The R-Word
I heard it again today.
The R-word.
Thrown at me like gum under a desk. Like something sticky and disgusting I’m supposed to carry around now.
Because I take longer to answer.
Because I think in pictures, not in bullet points.
Because I walk circles in my brain while they’re still crawling in straight lines.
But this didn’t start with kids in hallways. It started with adults. With evaluations. With paperwork.
At the top of my IEP:
“Intellectual Disability — Retardation.”
In bold. In ink. Like that’s all I’d ever be.I’ve read that file more times than I’ve read my own poems.
Like it was supposed to explain me better than I ever could.It didn’t.
I’m not behind.
I’m not broken.
I’m not stupid.
I’m not your slur.
I just take ten laps in my head for every one you walk out loud.
I’m building connections you can’t even see yet.
I’m solving puzzles you didn’t notice existed.
I’m tired, not incapable.
I’m quiet, not less.
I’m soft, not stupid.
I am NOT the R-word.
I’m Luna.
And I’m done carrying this shame in silence.
I’m allowed to burn a little. I’m not sure in which way. A burnt out candle, kinda-way. Or a volcano taking everything out in its path kinda-way.
🖤 Your slurs don’t define me. Your paperwork doesn’t either,
– Me <3