A Crip Anti Capitalist Future

Maria Epp's contribution to the Novitas Magazine exploring chronic pain, post-capitalism, and how we might do it together.

This is the second article printed in the Novitas Magazine. I’m excited to share the articles here in the substack and on the Novitas website at novitasmag.com. Maria and I also chatted in more depth about this article on the podcast episode here: https://www.novitasmag.com/disability-justice-and-art-in-a-post-capitalist-world/

Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I embrace the term “crip” as a positive expression frequently utilized in disability justice discourse. I affirm disability as a natural and embraced aspect of our communities.

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I can’t do the “clocking in” for anyone, not even my kids. I mean I did, technically. I was present. I probably did a lot of stuff. But I was also really, really tired all the time and cried most days. I don’t know if they knew I was that sad. Maybe they did. I’m pretty sure if I had to “clock in” and write down what I did each day it wouldn’t look like much. But it was more difficult than anything I've done in my whole life.

I can't "clock in" because I can't hold down a full-time job. But I was a mom of two. I can’t do the 9-5 but I would wake up in the middle of the night to feed my baby. I can’t show up for an employer everyday, but I never had a day off as a mom. No one paid me to stay home but we got by on one income. I could’ve gone out and earned money, and sometimes I did, but leaving my kids at kindergarten was hard enough emotionally.

I didn’t have the spoons to create a robust mommy-community where I was thriving. I wished I could. God did I wish. And it wasn’t for not trying. I just couldn’t find enough people. Doubly broke.

I needed to resource myself but like I said, I didn’t have the spoons. So here I was. Here we were. My girls and I surviving capitalism. Just barely.

I’m not sure I wanna go back to hauling water or scrubbing floors. No, I most definitely do not. I don’t want to depend on myself to sew clothing or preserve food for the winter months. I’m quite happy to purchase my sugar at the grocery store rather than tap 50 trees and boil sap for a week! I’m also happy to drink coffee from far away rather than dig up dandelion roots. I’ll take my rubber diva cup over moss in my hand-made undies. And yes, it feels impossible to imagine what life was like pre-industrial, colonial mono-cropping.

I live with chronic pain. I’m tired most days. I spend most of my days creating art. My girls are self-sufficient teens now and my partner does a lot of the daily chores between working for money. He cooks, vacuums, and does the laundry among other things. He has enough energy for both of us. He lives five of my days in one.

What do I do about that? What's it like watching people live a life you can't?

I grow Stinging Nettle. I harvest it. I dry and ret it. I pull off the long strands of fiber and card them. I spin and weave them. This is the slow craft of cloth making. I write. I paint. I sit in the sun. I visit with many people online and in person. I laugh and I cry.

I'm excited to be surrounded by warm bodies who do things together.

I'm hopeful about the future as a person with limited abilities. I can imagine a future where I eat less processed sugar and maybe have a regulated nervous system for the first time in my life. I can imagine driving less and living in walkable community. I’m still not sure how the waters will clean themselves and how the children will birth themselves but I’m sure we will learn together.

I'm not ready for more death and sorrow. But it's not like capitalism ever saved us from that.

I love the craft and I would highly recommend everyone learn an old skill that has faded into the fairy-tale books (they are magic you know). But please, when you dream about a post-capitalist society, please imagine easy access pain-killers, slow living, lots of good food, clean water, and warm bodies. Imagine a world where mothers like me don’t need money to get our needs met. Where we are surrounded and offered good love.

I’m going to imagine a world where the Nettle patch grows by the well where I will sit and spin. I will tell you stories while you pull up clean water.

I’ll walk with you back to the fire. We will eat some fine maple syrup drenched pancakes and then take a boat ride down the river. We’ll dip our nets into the clean water and pull up a week’s worth of food. We will eat so good and sleep so deep we won’t need those Tylenol. But if we do, we’ll go back to the river where the Willow grow. We’ll boil their bark and soak all our pain away.

This is a glimpse into a future for us crips outside of capitalism. A future where our body/mind is loved and welcomed into the slow living and non competitive worlds we imagine.

Living with a disability can feel like sitting in a snake den. It’s strange, unknown, and fear-filled at first. Navigating the pain, the limits, the potential dangers can feel overwhelming. But it’s only that way when we are stuck depending on ourselves. We aren’t alone. We have so many tools at our disposal. We have so much untapped magic. Becoming a communal crip witch with a spindle and Nettle in her bag means she has something to offer and is willing to be held at the same time.