Students of Grief

Loss of Bodily Autonomy

We are all students of grief.   Many of us lost autonomy a long time ago, some more than others, and repeatedly.

As a white disabled woman I can only speak to my own experience, in that I know the intense pain and Body Grief of losing Bodily autonomy, from my chronic illness robbing me of my ability to walk to drive a car, to the government regulating my medication and therefore watching my health rapidly decline because of it. 

The loss of Bodily autonomy is nothing new to Black women, to Black men, LGBTQ+ communities, to Minorities, to Marginalized communities alike. We (and I say this as a Disabled person) voted for not just ourselves but for everyone. That fear many of us are feeling is not so new, granted the anger and rage has been brewing for some time, and that is part of the grieving process. 

As I have said for a while, all bodies are political. Body Grief cannot exist without recognizing systems of oppression. And here we are. 

 As I figure out what to do as a disabled and chronically ill person living in a red state highly aware of my privilege I can’t stop having flashbacks. 

*Trigger Warning; Medical Trauma

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I was screaming for Sean. They had me strapped down, two male technicians and two female technicians that I had never met. The door was open for anyone walking by to see, yet a man was standing in front of the entrance so no one could walk in or out. I was in a haze, I knew I should be getting my blood pressure checked around this point, it must’ve been around 2am, they came in for the bladder scan about an hour ago. 

“Your bladder is full, and you need to empty.”

The man in black scrubs continued to grab my legs.

“No, I’d like to try and go on my own, I don’t do well with In and Out Catheters.”

I had just had my second spinal cord surgery, this wasn’t my first rodeo. Last time I had an In and Out Catheter I ended up back in the Hospital with a terrible UTI. 

“We have orders for this”

As they continued to spread my legs, and get the female tech to insert the catheter. I started to look around for my Husband Sean and Wheatie now realizing what was happening, coming out of my post surgery sleep haze. Advocate Jayne, Advocate. 

“No! No! NO! NO! Do not do this! I want to talk to the head nurse!” 

The tech continued to fuss as they held me down, they inserted the catheter into my vagina, the wrong hole. I was unable to move at this point. There were now four people around my disabled body holding me down and I had no control over anything. My body, their choice.

“Her vulva is weird.”

The tech said, and without sanitizing she went to forcefully insert the catheter into my urethra. The sting of and familiar burn coating my labia and bladder like a fire.

I laid limp, tears streaming down my cheeks. My rage was diluted by fear. 

I could hear Wheaties collar down the hall. I was screaming for Sean. He started calling back. 

“Let me in, I’m her Husband, let me in!”

By this point it was too late. The scraping pain of the catheter had gone in and out, with the lasting infection of the UTI lingering. They had given me a shot of Ativan, and I was drugged out mess. The next morning my Mom had me report what happened to the nurse. I did, and yet this occurrence was only foreshadowing for what was to come.

“I’m just thankful I don’t have sexual trauma” I lied. Echoes of my sisters, friends and ancestors ricocheted in shame and yet safety.

Because I couldn’t open that wound, knowing that this was my life moving forward. And now here we are. Post Roe V. Wade. Trump 2025. We are allowed to Grieve. 

Disabled folks are terrified, Black Folks are terrified. Women are terrified and rightfully so. Trans Folks are terrified. And as we grieve, rage will come, so let us grieve. Let us scream. Let us do what we need to do. This is Body Grief.

So remember, feelings are for FEELING. It is OKAY if your grief doesn’t look or feel graceful. We lost our autonomy, some of us are going to lose it for the first time, and that is terrifying.

Let’s not police how we grieve let’s not strip ourselves and others of the freedom to grieve, let that at least be our right. I love you.

With Gratitude,

Jayne