Tuesday, July 8, 2014

@sesameworkshop - Broken Street, by Kitt McKenzie Martin


A sign. A street.

The sign hangs crooked, bent over with age. The green paint fades into the white letters. Nobody knows what it used to say. Three-foot-three, she drums her fingers repetitively against the steel.

"Quiet hands."

Her hands slump from the sign without a word. Not that she has any words to slump with.

There are no words on this street anymore.



Her tip-toes toe what was once a hopscotch board, now a faded, dusty frame. She scratches the sores under her shirt, puckered "o's" where the electrodes were stuck.

On the left. three fat steps descend to the sidewalk. The paint on the door is faded. The sign above the door reads "A Hopeful Place." She can read the sign. Everybody thinks she can't.

Lots of places like this have moved in on the street. Some of them have classes where kids get held down until they look into a pair of eyes, or where their hands are shoved into painful things like paint and water. Where a gummy bear means a positive behavior. Where you get drilled on the same things over and over because your body does not report what you know.

Some of them are clinics where children are fed pungent solutions, some that leave them with debilitating pain. They have tubes put in their arms. Sometimes the kids come out with their faces covered in a sheet, their bodies not moving anymore. Inside A Hopeful Place, there are tables and chairs with straps on them. When she was inside this building, she was strapped to a table and burned by the electrodes that they stuck to her body to make her learn. Because the street is a place of learning.

She has made rapid progress since she walked through those doors.

She no longer talks like herself. She talks like the other kids on the street now. Crisp, clear sentences, full sentences, pronouns. Without repetition, without free-form cadence. With her mouth, not her hands. But her words don't mean anything anymore. They're just a script, a routine that she's learned to act out. This is how she survives the street.

She no longer moves like herself. She moves, like every other child, in predictable gestures, straight lines up and down her arms and legs and back. She moves with quiet hands. She moves pieces of herself as far away as she can. She locks them out. This is how she...

She no longer gazes at the trickle of a faucet. She no longer stares at the creases of her hands. At the glint of a bracelet. Now, she cements her gaze onto pairs of eyes, lets them invade her, tries to understand their speech sounds while the eyes and their emotion commotion fill her head with static. She can never remember their words, but the eyes are all that matter on the street. She doesn't remember the A's, B's, and C's that they recite while she is staring into their eyes.

She can recall the words they used to say around her. "Independent " (she will never be.) "Intelligence" (there are no signs of.) "Functioning" (she is low.) "Career" (she will never have.) "Comprehend" (she does not.) "Severe." "Finances." "Divorce." "Competence." "Behavior." "Manipulative." "Willful." "Failed." "Fault." "Suicide." "Depressed." "Give up." "Lost." "Stolen." "Missing." "Empty."

"Hope" (that she will become something they can be proud of.)

The words she hears now threaten to put her in past tense. Relegate her to an Autistic yesterday. "Recovering." "Progress." "Healing." "Improving." "Indistinguishable." "Typical." "Reduced." "Acquired." "Reclaimed."


She has walked through the faded doors. She has stepped back onto the street, subjugated, jaded into compliance. She has been trained to subdue herself. The shocks cease when she learns to suppress what comes naturally. Her song that is not good enough for anyone else to accept.
She does as she was trained to do. She does it so well. So she is released to the kindness of the street.


The kids on the street accept her now, because they look past what she struggles with. They do not look at what she struggles with. They do not look at her. They pretend that she is someone who they can accept, someone who is just like them.


It's okay to like her because she is just like us. Elmo told them so. Elmo told them that she was just like them. Big Bird told them that there was hope for her. Grover told them that she could get better if she got special help.

Special help from those sun-bleached brick buildings. Special help from A Hopeful Place.


She does not want any more special help from those faded doors and those big, blocky steps. The colorful signs that hang from the bricks, advertising hope.


With her quiet hands brushing the fabric of her skirt, she watches her feet step-by-step-by-step down the cracked sidewalk, her shoes sending tiny rocks skittering with each step. She drags her heavy legs sadly past Mr. Hooper's empty store, past a cracked and sagging doorpost that has seen too many sunny days, bone-white and splintering off in pieces.

All the color has washed out of everything on the street. A long time ago, people here used to celebrate all the different colors that make the world so wonderful. Now, the people's claims of tolerance and diversity have ceased to have meaning to the children of the street.

Now, everything is faded.

The once-sweet air blows loose and swirling dust through the store's open windows. Friendly neighbors' doors are all closed, and windows are boarded up. Fear of life's vibrant color locks the friendly neighbors captive inside. Nobody wants to meet where the color is brilliant and the doors open wide to children's minds. Instead, clouds obscure the many shades.

Clouds cast everyone in uniform gray.

Puzzle pieces adorn the street. They drain away all the colors of the children, leaving only dust and splintering boards.


This is a pretend-nice place.


A brightly colored top in a patch of grass distracts the eye from the listless uniformity of the people. Even the chalk-rainbow on the next sidewalk square has been washed away.


Ernie slouches his way down the opposite sidewalk, a watery half-smile sitting atop his chin. He lifts one hand kindly, but his shoulders droop under the heavy clouds that cannot be chased away. Cracked sidewalk rises to carry his feet through the quiet. Rust reaches out to him from broken pipes, trying to stain him with surrender.


This is the street. The street is broken. For Autistics, it will always be. Broken. Because this is what Sesame Street has said to us.
You can be fixed. You can be just like your friends. We can help you. You are welcome on our street... if you learn to be someone else.


A sign hangs crooked in the background. It once said "Sesame."
A hopscotch board, with no numbers, only labels.


This is the street.
It is broken.


AutisticChick
Kitt McKenzie Martin
autisticchick.blogspot.com


[Editor's note: We bring you this wrenching, important piece with the author's permission. It was originally posted at http://educatesesame.blogspot.com/ which is the #EducateSesame FlashBlog Site. Please check out the other entries there.]

9 comments:

  1. That was beautiful and brilliant and striking.

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  2. You are a bully!!! You attack people and you want to post in "words hurt"?? Obviously you are no better. You shouldn't be so evil if you really knew how bad it hurts especially if you're attacking someone who has been and still goes through so much. You are a hypocrite

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    Replies
    1. You're right I am evil thanks for noticing, I'm evil and should hate my fucking self, whoever the fuck you are and whatever the fuck you're talking about random mystery fucking person who apparently made an account solely to comment on a post that was already four years old, thanks for the reminder that I'm "evil" and a hororhbpe person it was just what I needed, hope you have a great dMn dauy whoever you fucking are and I'll see you in hell, race you there, you'll be screaming at me the whole way im sure. Ironically you're the one who in this comment is "attacking someone who has been and still goes through so much " so whoever the fuck you are that makes you the hypocrite. I don't even know what this blog post has to do with "you want to post in words hurt" whatever that means (I dont even remember being in a group or forum or thread called "words hurt" so truly I have no recollection of what "posting in words hurt" means), or how this blog post you posted on is relevant to the rant you made at all which seems to have nothing to do with the post or blog and I see zero reason how me opposing miseducation and misinformation about autism on a children's television show (aka the post you commented on..???) makes me a "hypocrite" but once again you're right im evil and a monster have a gr wa at dau y and I'll see you in hell I'll save you a seat. ironically I dont remember having any argument or fight or falling out with someone in late 2017/early January 2018 so I truly have no idea who tf you are but just to reiterate yes I am evil and hellspawn and scum and a blight and a stain and trash and a horrible person evil evil evil monster demon garbage bag shitstain worthless evil evil evil evil evil you are right and correct I hope you feel big and powerful, person hiding behind a fake name to attack me who won't even reveal who they are while "attacking " me . Attacking me, aka a person who "goes through so much, " to quote your words towards me, but calls me a "bully" and "hypocrite".

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    2. Thanks for joining me in being Evil, since after all you just did all the things you accused me of in your comment, if those things make someone, to quote, "Evil" well then hand over your soul card and let's party, let's be evil together forever. Evil evil evil. Yes that's right you're evil. I'm going to say it again til it makes you feel how it made me feel. EVIL. Evil hypocrite. YOU did everything you said I did, YOU attacked someone who has been through so much and is still going through so much and is fighting not to off them fucking selves or relapse and starve/injure themselves every fucking day and this was just what I needed for my mental state, so you're not a bully at alllll (said the "evil" person sarcastically to the other evil person). *hands you an Evilship braceleslt because we are Best Evils Forever now, or, to get punny for a moment, Best Fiends Forever.* just to reiterate , you did everything you accused me of and I am everythjng you claimed to be. Ergo. To quote you again, "obviously you are no better." I needed something to take me down a peg today anyway I was just startijg to feel somewhat worthwhile and appreciated for a moment which was foolish so thanks for the help. I hope you have a great day and life, idk wtf I even ever said to you but dont worry I will never ever forget or erase your words ever I will carry them with me til I die and again, thusly see you in hell. I'll be waiting. Hope you never forget the fact that I'll never, ever, ever be able to forget or erase your words from my mind even if I tried. Since you want to talk so big and mighty about the impact words have on people, I wouldn't normally disclose this but given how you phrased your comment I will say just so you're aware I impulsively punched and clawed the shit out of myself immediately after coming across this comment from a keyboard warrior hiding behind a screen, and have continued doing so periodically and will be fighting worse self harm urges for the rest of the night and unable to calm down to get to sleep. "You shouldn't be so evil if you really knew how bad it hurts," said the mirror back to you.

      Ironically I was almost ready to fall asleep before coming across your words.

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    3. PS I was battling homelessness and domestic violence as well as a body that was failing and betraying me as I descended into the grip of chronic illness and pain, as well as early in my eating disorder recovery, at the time when your comment was written and additionally had almost committed suicide a couple months prior and was running out of reasons to keep holding on, much like I have been now before coming across your comment tonight, and right around the time your comment was originally written I was at the time checking myself into, had recently checked into or was about to check into psychiatric care for suicidal urges, within days if not potentially hours of you writing this. I then went on to narrowly escape an encounter with a stalker that would've most likely left me dead, raped and/or beaten if I hadn't thought quickly on my feet. At this time I was being followed by numerous men, was unsuccessfully abducted to be "taught a lesson" or face something "worse than murder" if I didn't comply, was sexually assaulted and was attemptedly trafficked, all within weeks before—and continuing on after—you writing this. And to top it all off had to surrender my dog to a rescue after previously rescuing him from being put down. Four months prior I had literally fled for my life out of the area got a new phone and phone number took down social media the whole nine yards after being brutally assaulted and nearly murdered, then been battered and knocked about by circumstances right back to the person who did it, who then unsuccessfully abducted me while threatening me with torture right after I began sleeping in a nights only shelter, shortly almost purposely walked in front of a train to end my life, had several men repeatedly follow/stalk me and try to lure me away from safety, all as I was pretty much a ghost piloting a corpse from fatigue and pain and sickness and ended up bedridden and walker bound as a result within months, I had a fucking arrhythmia from the stress and at the time of your writing this lovely comment, was almost passing out or collapsing multiple times a day from the toll my circumstances were taking on my illnesses, and by the way this is only the highlights, leaving out things like my car breaking down or couch surfing or dog getting us kicked out of places or all the fucking weird lying creepy manipulative harass-y edgelord unhinged people I met in homeless youth and adult services and all the other little things that all added up and took their toll day by day, with pretty much no reprieve. Just so you know who was on the other side of the interwebz and what they were going through whilst you were ranting about how they're an evil hypocrite who doesn't understand what people go through. Hope it made you feel real big and strong hiding behind your anon face. Beelzebub Bless. May you walk in Lucifer's unholy Light eternal. Whoever you are.

      Signed, Satan Incarnate
      Lord of All That is Unholy
      Evil LLC

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  3. Just to be clear... Kitt..you are the bully!!!!!!

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    1. ✌✌✌ I'm evil evil evil evil evil

      Worthless

      Less than nothing

      ❤❤❤❤❤

      Delete
    2. I dont even know who tf you are or wtf I said to you but yr right

      Delete
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    ReplyDelete