Soon after the government announced its planned cuts to disability benefits, I came across ‘Crips Against Cuts’ on Instagram.  

I immediately felt represented by the term ‘Crip’. It’s a word that cuts through all the culture-war debates over medical terminology and identity, and seeing it made me hopeful we would be fighting for what’s right, not crumbs of liberation from our oppressors.

Being a Crip is a radicalising experience because you immediately start being treated differently by people. It affects how you view an individual’s worth, prioritise your time, and often limits how busy you can be. All these things mean you get a good insight into other people’s priorities, and a lot of time to reflect on everything you experience.

Several local groups formed under the Crips Against Cuts banner, one of the biggest being in Bristol, to protest against the Labour government’s plans for drastic cuts to disability benefits. We all chipped in where we could to create a powerful day of education and resilience, based on the idea that it’s not Crips versus the people, it’s the people against austerity. 

In the face of these planned cuts, intended to push disabled and unwell people into work and off benefits and which will have a devastating impact on so many, there is a growing movement of resistance that the government should fear. 

We are exactly what the government fears

I grew up in a neurodivergent, working-class household, which came with cycles of mistreatment by the state. 

I’m chronically ill, crippled in my skeletal structure, and mad. This is not a sob story.

I live on both PIP (Personal Independence Payment) and Universal Credit. Without these, my health would perish and I would be at risk of becoming sicker than when I was bed-bound at primary school.

At the age of 6, I received an appendectomy which the doctors realised was unnecessary once I was already on the operating table. My health has never been the same since. 

I became unable to attend school and quickly became bed-bound in year 4. My dad had to stop working to care for me, leaving our family finances to dwindle. 

My health fluctuates. It always has since those days, which was hard to comprehend as a child, let alone communicate. Since getting Covid twice within a month a few years ago, though, my symptoms are constantly disabling. Particularly my chronic nerve and joint pain. 

After many years of difficult living situations, my family (now all adults) live and coexist together. The family members that I live with do their best to contribute to my assisted living requirements. 

This isn’t easy when they have to work and cope with everything they have going on. Some things I need help with on a day-to-day basis include moving my wheelchair in and out of our front garden steps, cooking and cleaning up, and remembering to drink water.

In the face of these planned cuts, there is a growing movement of resistance that the government should fear. 

The Labour government’s planned cuts announced in mid-March will push disabled people into poverty. They are proof that we are perceived only as an extension of their version of what life should be, and I am angry, both for myself and for all the people who are going to die and suffer deeply if they come into action.

But despite this, and despite still struggling every day without the treatment that I need, it’s empowering to know that I am exactly what the Labour government fears. As are all of those who are willing to resist these kinds of devastating cuts. We utilised this fear on 22 March, outside City Hall on College Green.

A wonderful beginning of a movement

We had lots of beautiful speakers, both young and old, as well as Green MP Carla Denyer and representatives from all Queers4Palestine, UNISON, DPAC, and Bristol Museums. 

The open mic had an incredible reception, to the extent that we unfortunately couldn’t fit everyone in – but we definitely learnt how ready the wider community is to speak when given a platform and a microphone.

The day proved how easy accessibility can be. We had FFP2 masks to hand out to (nearly) everyone, to help our immunocompromised comrades. We also had a quiet zone set up with a windbreaker, a wellbeing team available for supplies, first aid, and referral for therapy for short-term support. We even had a dog with pink fur to match the wellbeing team’s pink outfit theme.

We still have a long way to go and a lot to learn, but we managed to organise all of this in just eight days. This was not just a moment of resistance, but instead a wonderful beginning of a movement. 

From what I’ve observed, Crips Against Cuts acts through three community pillars. The first is horizontal organisation: we believe that no one’s voice is more valuable, or has more authority, than anyone else’s. The second is respect for those who fought before us. We draw on the intersectional struggles of Disabled, Mad, Queer and Black communities. The third is mutual aid. We ensure that every Crip in our community can survive, and hopefully join in. 

All of these principles mean the movement is magical to take part in and watch happen— whether it be emergency mental health calls with comrades, providing support with accessing resources or just carrying someone else’s stuff home when they can’t. They help remind me that liberation is possible.

CUT THE RICH NOT THE CRIPS

Next Bristol Crips day of action: 26th April. Next event: 19th April, PRSC The Space, Jamaica Street.

Bristol Crips Against Cuts Instagram: @bristol_crips_against_cuts

Find Teo on Instagram: @cup.o_teodor Or BandCamp: JIGSAW EYES