Sex With Disability

Hi all! I’m Briana! I’m a sociologist with particular interest in disability and sexuality. My honors thesis explored physical disability, sexuality and expectations for romantic relationships. I share some of my research findings to demonstrate historical & social injustice about physical disability and sexual agency. (oh, and I also have cerebral palsy.)

By sharing reflections reported by my research participants, I also aspire to give voice to challenges, myths and aspirations of those of us with physical disabilities who encounter obstacles to sexual expression and connection.

This is a supportive environment for learning, discussion and advocacy for supporting those of us with and without disabilities in navigating sexuality, dating and romance.

Everyone is welcome!

I was motivated to conduct academic research about physical disability and sexuality as a result of my own experiences of feeling unattractive and unwanted romantically. I felt excluded from sexuality, dating and romance entirely. It seemed to be this amorphous, mysterious party to which I was never invited. I wanted to find out if these feelings were isolated to my own experiences with CP, or if other people with disabilities could relate.

Spoiler alert: they could!

I invite you to explore my research results and join the conversation about what disability and sexuality look like in our society as social constructs, how we can advocate for more equal opportunities and fulfilling, inclusive sexual expression, identity and relationships.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1454587962070202/?ref=share

Disability Empowerment and Support

Greetings everybody! I wanted to share some exciting news. I am now providing consulting for people with disabilities and health concerns. Collaborating with a grassroots project, supporting our communities every step of the way.

Guardians of Hope presents: Ambassadors of Hope!

If you are looking for support, direction and an individualized plan of action to identify and pursue aspirations, Ambassadors of Hope is here for you! Regardless of where you are with physical, mental, emotional health and abilities, we can connect to plant seeds for life. We specialize in partnering with those with chronic illness and disabilities for:

•Health Advocacy

•Life Enjoyment

•Career Development

•Education and Advocacy

•Academic Ambassador: support in navigating college with illness and disability.

Start 2024 with a champion to nurture, support and partner with you to create a more fulfilling Life. You can do it! To schedule a  conversation, please email me  at brianalbeaver@gmail.com Spaces are limited! For more information, qualifications and my bio, please send me a message or email. I’m looking forward to connecting with you!

Dear Men of The World

I did a thing. Earlier this summer, I submitted a handful of pitch letters for possible publication. I targeted large scale magazines, most of which are probably inundated with hundreds of emails every day. My motive was born for the desire for social change, but also, from a wound that needed an outlet. The completion of drafting and revising these letters required enduring physical and mental strength. I’m amazed I was able to accomplish this endeavor.

While it’s easy to fantasize about grandiose possibilities for mass media publication, it’s also idealistic. I think social change is incremental and often begins with an invitation to consider a previously unknown arrangement. The invitation can foster awareness, curiosity and hopefully, respectful conversation. The topic of unsolicited sexual attention has continued to manifest in various ways since I wrote this pitch. Therefore, I’m even more motivated to open the door to this perspective. Here’s one example of a letter I wrote to a well-known men’s magazine:

Dear XYZ,

I was propositioned for sex and drugs by my neighbor after meeting him once. Though I would later learn of my neighbor’s criminal record for attacking a woman while under the influence of drugs, initially I was overwhelmed with flattery. As a woman with a disability, I am often presumed incapable of having sexual intimacy. That he seemed oblivious of my disability intrigued me. I felt strangely honored to be on the receiving end of this sexual attention. I felt I had entered the winning circle of equal opportunity patriarchy at last. Finally, I was beautiful, too.

The first sight of him strutting up my driveway, chocolate eyes and corkscrew curls glinting in the sun, inspired something within me to reawaken. His imposing yet casually sculpted body coupled with a smile balanced by perfect dimples was adorable. As my golden retriever and his teddybear mutt met over touched noses, he and I clasped hands in introduction. Beneath the canopy of greenery lining our family-oriented neighborhood, this Saturday morning unfolded with nearby echoes of children cruising by on bikes.

Although his demeanor seemed as innocuous as possible, over the coming weeks I would learn about the deception of appearance. Through dismantled drunken conversation, he revealed to me his problems with alcohol and drug addiction. Juxtaposed by impersonal requests for sexual favors that both frightened and shocked me, I was torn between my initial attraction to him and fear of his increasingly outlandish behavior.

I was flattered. I was offended. I was afraid.

The sociologist in me felt called to provide a window into the perspective of a woman, a view he had most likely never considered. His erratic behavior and consistent intoxicated state, however, made this endeavor impossible and unsafe for me. Nonetheless, these topics are relevant beyond the scope of my neighborhood. The provocative, vulnerable letter I wrote for him could be beneficial for men across the globe. Women are often bombarded with sexually explicit, unsolicited attention that is not only dehumanizing but also terrifying. I would appreciate the opportunity to share this often unheard voice with XYZ in hopes of increasing accountability, shifting ideologies about toxic masculinity, male privilege and gender norms. Redefining modern masculinity as we know it could pave the way for more diverse self-expression and freedom for men, and also enrich respectful intrapersonal interactions between men and women.

As a former columnist for BioNews and a contributor to ABILITY Magazine, I’ve put pen to paper again and again with a mission. My experience as a writer coupled with my degree in sociology, empowers me to share raw lived experiences with a tinge of societal critique.

To view some of my previously published work, please visit:

(Links)

Thank you for your time and consideration. Please do not hesitate to contact me with any questions.

Sincerely,

Briana

Looking for Love

Hello out there everyone! I shared this on a Facebook dating group and I figured I would share it here as well. I honestly have no idea who follows me on this page, but you never know!

If you feel so inclined to share this, please feel free. You know what they say, it takes a whole village to find a wonderful boyfriend. Thanks for being my village.

Greetings! I’m Briana, 35, from Northern California. I’m passionate about social justice, equality, the human condition and connecting meaningfully with the world. Integrating the wild vicissitudes I’ve experienced this far into a more interconnected reality is what I’m after! Fun, contemplation, commitment and a shared desire for persistent love strikes my fancy.

As the former co-founder and director of a non-profit serving children and their families, I’m a dedicated social steward. As an inclusion consultant and a former columnist, I’m dedicated to building a bridge for equality through writing. When not embarking on aforementioned adventures, you’ll most likely find me basking in the company of my beloved bunny, Harper and golden retriever, Greta. An enthusiastic student of meditation, I enjoy cultivating knowledge about coherence breathing techniques for overall happiness.

I’m looking for a long-term relationship, ideally in the northern California area, but I’m open to the possibilities to connecting beyond my geographical region and making new friends as well. Please leave me a comment if you’re interested in chatting!

P.S. Oh! and my book “Yes to All Things Me” is now available on Etsy! Hope you will take a peek and immerse yourself in this collaborative mixed media experience.

Becoming A Mother

I’ve been pondering this question for several months and now that I am 35, I am considering alternative possibilities for starting a family. I had always imagined that I would be a mother. In fact, I spent the majority of my childhood outlining my imaginary family situation, along with my adoring husband, a fictional character with warm chocolate eyes that I lovingly called Toby. Although I haven’t abandoned my intention for connecting with a wonderful man and building a family, I am considering other possibilities for what the notion of “family“ might look like.

Last year, I stumbled across a few articles about women who were in a similar situation as I am: mid 30s, diligently but painstakingly trudging through the dating world and all too aware of the ticking biological clock. I will say, those women most likely were not dealing with serious health issues, but that’s a story for another time. Or maybe, a story to be retired entirely, forever. They chose to become mothers with the biological assistance of a male friend who had varying degrees of involvement with their offspring. Years ago, I would have found this arrangement to be morally questionable, now I am approaching it with a degree of inquisitiveness and curiosity.

I am just wondering if others out there have considered more untraditional methods of becoming parents? Maybe I’m just a weirdo and I have too much time on my hands, or at least I did before becoming a parent to my puppy Greta. The sociologist in me wonders about the kind of implications for raising children in such diverse environments, the logistics, the legal responsibilities, etc.

I’ve spent the last 10 months attempting to rewire my brain, to shift from my constant state of fear, lack and desperation. It’s a constant daily practice. All of this is to say that I’m not going to bombard the inboxes of cis male friends within a 50 mile radius, inviting them to be my baby daddy. Instead, I’m just putting this out there for anyone else who might be curious in talking about this topic. Please feel free to comment and I will happily respond.

Accessibility for All

This week I sat down with Chico councilman Addison Winslow for Chico City Council 2022 to discuss accessibility in our community. There is no shortage of buildings with antiquated access for people with physical disabilities ranging from: doors that are too heavy, do not open with the push of a button, cracked and uneven pavement in flooring, counters, shelves that are out of reach or somebody utilizing a wheelchair, lack of elevators, ramps and more. Accessing public venues should not be a privilege, however, it often is for those of us who are unable to get through the door because of aforementioned reasons and more.

Inaccessibility in our community is representative of ideologies than delve much deeper into the foundation of society than do doors or cracked pavement. Beliefs that represent people with disabilities as inherently inferior, unworthy and unwelcome are overdue to change. Sounds like a lofty endeavor, right?

It starts with conversations like these. Talking openly about barriers, both literal and ideological, and about recognizing the perspective of the other. I suggested that Addison experiment with navigating downtown Chico utilizing a wheelchair. Although this would be a temporary and limited window into what it can be like for somebody who requires the use of a mobility aid, it’s a place to start. It’s a starting point for recognizing challenges that people who do not navigate the world with physical disabilities are often unaware of.

Having increased awareness and personal experience with barriers and behaviors can open up the possibilities for connecting with people with disabilities, creating a pathway of understanding, appreciation and ultimately, improved quality of life through accessibility.

So, Addison Winslow, are you up for the challenge?

A Prayer With Every Heartbeat

It’s 10 PM and I turn the dial on my radio. Whitney Houston booms, wondering how she will know if he really loves her. As I sing along, I marvel at the majesty of her powerhouse voice. As the words bounce along in merry succession, I think about Whitney‘s untimely death. Curious about the specifics, a google search quickly reveals that her death was caused from a cacophony of drugs. Picturing her alone, high and unconscious, my mind connects the dots to him. This could be him. Like so many addicts infiltrating their bodies with untenable levels of chemicals, the fine line between high and dead seems almost imperceptible.

A sickening tightness crawls from my stomach up into my esophagus, tightening with the impeccable strike of a serpent. This could be him.

“Do you have any OXY?”

I cringe recalling the abrupt requests for drugs, insensitive and unrelated to my previous texts. Following closely on the heels of my invitation to come over for coffee, to help plan my golden retriever’s first birthday party, I would read these requests for pain medications with confusion, sadness and concern.

“Do you have any pain medication? We should get high.”

I can’t prevent my mind from spinning a macabre vision of him drifting into delirium, the rippled tendons of his forearms loosening, breathing stiffening, forever.

“I say a prayer with every heartbeat,” Whitney’s words linger on my tongue.

Final Draft

The half golden sky filters through the treetops as I make my way to the mailbox. I am accompanied by an uncanny sense of confidence and tranquility. I’ve written and revised nearly a dozen letters to him, alternating between a voice tinged with criticism and authority juxtaposed by drafts steeped in vulnerability. Each time I rewrite the letter, it feels true.

My education in sociology and women’s rights makes it easy for me to point fingers in disgust, demanding higher standards of behavior from men. My compassion and swelling heart, coupled with some inexplicable nebulous endearment to him makes it hard for me not to string pearls of poetry around my disappointment.

I want him to know his behavior is not excusable.

I want to be his friend.

I never want to hear from him again.

I hope the trajectory of our lives will intertwine.

As I deposit the small envelope into the slot, I offer my intention for wisdom and peace, enlightenment and possibilities for both of us. Before I let go, I hold the paper to my chest, breathing in and out.

I consider the paradox of holding on and letting go, tumbling deeper into the unknown while staying true to myself, to my inner voice.

Can I Tell You A Secret?

Can I tell you secret? I kind of miss him. Along the highway between my heart and my mind, conflicting messages travel at high speeds. Accustomed to navigating this life, my mind tallies up the reasons to be offended, to be relieved he is gone. A litany of his transgressions, bold and offensive, scurries across my brain.

I do not like him. I do not know him. He has demonstrated no redeemable behavior.

And also, my heart just misses him. With no need for intellectualism, no desire to keep score, the electromagnetic field pulsates to the tune of humanity, connection and love. Just because.

Letter to A Ghost

Dear Neighbor,

I wanted to take a little time to collect my thoughts and try to share my perspective with you in a way that could be helpful. I hope this email finds you feeling more stable and enjoying your time back at home.

I am uncomfortable with some of the behavior you’ve demonstrated in the short time that I communicated with you. Although I wanted to share this with you at various times, it seemed as though it would be a waste of my energy to try to communicate with you while you were intoxicated. Nonetheless, I wanted to make you aware of some of these things because You probably don’t know how it feels to be on the other side. My impression of your behavior is that it was very self-serving, that you could not potentially consider how it may feel to be:

Asked to “suck your dick“ After meeting you one time and other sexual solicitation.

Asked for drugs.

Dismissed after I did not give you drugs.

Be referred to as a “bitch.“

I understand that you were intoxicated at the time of exhibiting these behaviors. However, that’s not an excuse. It feels predatory, scary, demeaning, disrespectful and objectifying to be asked for sexual favors from a stranger. I wanted to tell you this initially, but the truth of the matter is that I was attracted to you and interested in you as a Potential romantic partner, so I was confused. I could clearly recognize that you were just wanting to get laid but I also wanted to believe that perhaps maybe, it was more than that. Perhaps your intoxicated state made you brave and that you would ask me over for coffee, or to talk or something indicating you were interested in more than just having somebody, anybody with a cute enough body and XX chromosomes satisfy your sexual itch.

As more time went by and you continued on your bender without showing any real interest in getting to know me, I felt confused. I continued to grapple with my attraction to you and impression of what a sweet, warm and friendly man you appeared to be when we met, compared to your brash sexual requests that sometimes even sounded violent. For example, you mentioned at one point that you wanted to “break that ass.” Even though this was cringeworthy to me, I still wanted to believe that underneath it all, you were actually interested in me as a person instead of a temporary drunken challenge.

Not only are there several safety risks with feeling as though a man might be pursuing you in a violent sexual way while he is intoxicated and literally three houses away, but it also just feels pretty shitty. And scary. You scared me.

Maybe it’s funny to say this to me when you’re totally fucked up, but it doesn’t feel very funny on the receiving end after one time. It feels dehumanizing and even patronizing because the entirety of my humanity is being reduced to either a sexual toy, a drug lord or somebody disposable. It feels like a violation.

I also feel sad that your interest in chatting with me seemed to disappear altogether after you figured out I wasn’t going give you drugs or sex. Perhaps I just seemed like another opportunity to get your fix but I was legitimately interested in getting to know you.

I’m a hot piece of cake, but also a lot more… Maybe someday you’ll get to find out.

I want to believe that the guy I met the first day who was warm, sunny, kind is really a big part of you underneath whatever challenges you are dealing with. Maybe someday I’ll get to know him more, too. Although I’m hurt by your behavior, I’m still open to talking with you and I genuinely care about how you’re doing.

I sense you have a story. I would like to hear it, someday. I’ve got one too.

I hope you’re able to break your “cycle,” as you called it, for good. Please let me know if you do. Maybe we could get a do-over.

Briana

P.S. Here’s the thing, neighbor. You’ve touched my heart. This is something I never say and it sounds incredibly cheesy even to my own ears. I’ve spent the majority of my life navigating everything intellectually and this just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know why, but I would like to talk to you again. I suppose there’s more to life than what we can understand with our brains…