Fellow Wheeled Queens and Kings,

This is an official proclamation to declare our liberation from the ambulatory constraints, and point out all the ways we're awesome in our own ways...

(Of course, this is nothing against our Standing Brethren, but, as every minority group has before us, we must, at some point, establish some identity of our own.  No hard feelings, Ambis...)

I just did something that no right-minded Ambi (Ambulatory Person) can, or should, do... I tattooed the bottom of my foot.

Why? you ask...because, well, because I can.

How many Ambis can say they'll be off their foot for long enough to keep out infection, dirt, and cat hair?  How many women can proudly state that they can go round their daily activities with a wee, bleeding, gaping, inked-in heart on the sole of her foot without fear of covering it with calluses, destruction by improper aftercare, or wear and tear from cramped shoes?

We few, we proud, we wheeled...that's who!

My baby-soft feet are often confounding for those who have never encountered a Regina (or Rex) in Rotis, as our walking counterparts struggle with bunions, calluses, and fallen arches.  We get to roll through life with beautiful, soft feet, and get marked where and when we want.  We don't fret over the exact sizing of a shoe, nor worry how a five-inch stiletto will feel after an 8 hour work day.

Instead, we cover up for cold days to keep our inert knees and shins safe from the cold and, if you're a para, potential frostbite.  Or if you're like me and have a myriad of issues, including internal metal hardware and Reynauds...well, frostbite.  We have little blankies that we quickly shed and try to hide as soon as we cross the Holt's or Bloomie's thresholds, and stock up on those disposable "Hot Hands" packets every time they go on sale.  We try to hide our frailness and, if you're anything like me, tuck the ugly-but-soooo-warm Tractor Supply suede gloves behind you before anyone can see how the yucky brown utilitarianism clashes with her mink jacket.

But, once inside, I have the distinction of gliding silently through the halls, stopping only when a pretty item catches my eye, and dodging through low, tiny holes in crowds.

This past New Year's Eve, I was in Niagara Falls, Ontario (of course), watching O.L.P. and Simple Plan to ring in the New Year, and while with my hubby and Eliza, I had to school them a bit.

"As you always state, my darling, one cannot go faster than the person in front of them," my husband, Cheyn said calmly, as I prepared to pass a slow-moving family.

"Au contraire, mon amour," I countered, as we attempted to negotiate through the ridiculous crowd.  "That rule only applies to cars on the street and mere mortals.  I'm a Regina in rotis.  I can 'bob and weave.'"

"Bob and Weave."  I have lived by those words in crowds for as long as I remember being on wheels.

So, we bobbed and we wove, and by the end, the three of us got a quite acceptable vantage point (with the aid of a few constables), and all kissed in the New Year happily.  And, thanks to the storage room in my chair, we were able to toast it in with respectable bubbly, too, though officially it was "non alcoholic."  (If the cops were interested in busting anyone at all, they would've gone after the, oh, thousand or few peeps sparking up doobs -- that *I* could see/smell -- for the Ball Drop.  I'm just saying...)

Since then, in less than a fortnight, so many things have happened to reinforce my role as a Disability Rights Advocate and public person that I can't even consider hiding behind my writing anymore, as I once did when I first started out as a wee author...I wasn't even legal to drink in the US when I toasted my first publication in America.

I'm in the current People Magazine, I was just on Entertainment Tonight Canada, and my husband is being exhibited in Niagara Falls as a prominent "Local African-American Artist."  I was recently named to the head editorial staff of the upcoming DisabilityNews.Net, I'm the Chairwoman of the Public Policy and Outreach Committee for ILNC, and the Vice Chair of the Niagara Falls Human Rights Commission.  I have an amazing husband who has joined our movement, the world's greatest Personal Assistant (recently hired after years of her consistent help), and the most supportive parents in the history of queer, disabled, zany history.  And I couldn't be prouder of my team...they're combining to allow me to not only write, but go into business for myself...

oh, and get a tattoo on the bottom of my foot.

To my dear Bothers and Sister on Wheels...smile.  How fortunate are we?  We can make jokes, always have our own seating, and never need strange, expensive insoles in our shoes.  We can either be footloose and fancy/shoe free, or strap into the sexiest shoes ever without fear of wearing them out or spraining an ankle using the loo.  We can't fall on wet floors, and when we dance, not only is it a thing of graceful, rolling beauty, but a thing of public "inspiration," and wonder.

So, to my beautiful, wondrous Brothers and Sisters in Wheelage...own it.

You're in it for life, so you might as well LIVE.