There was a big, goofy grin on my face as I clicked “join now” on Zoom. It was my first meeting to be on the board for a new organisation and I was beyond excited. That feeling quickly faded away, though, as conversation progressed. By the end of it, trepidation filled my being as I continuously checked my clock, waiting for it to be over. In the past two hours, I was asked intrusive questions about my identity and completely inappropriate remarks and jokes were made about my ethnicity. I was devastated but I wasn’t surprised; it is an all too common occurrence. Upon reflection, myself and others within my community contacted the board to inform them that their manor and actions were inappropriate and unprofessional. Despite receiving genuine apologies, their suggestion for moving forward was for me to independently educate them on race, disability and queerness (for free) because my identities make me an asset to the board and they wanted to keep me on.

This sparked a lot of reflection and questioning in my mind. Why is it, that in being a disabled person of colour, others only see me as a resource? In these moments, I am no longer Monty, I am no longer an activist, artist or anything else. To them, I exist simply as a free resource, a token disabled person of colour. They feel entitled to hear about my experiences and related trauma, and expect me to speak on behalf of the entire POC and disabled community; all in the name of “educating themselves”.

These occurrences go beyond white and able bodied groups, they also happen in my own communities. Too often, I am left having to explain racial justice to predominately white disability spaces, and find myself having to fight for accessibility within social and racial justice advocacy groups.

It is incredibly difficult sometimes, to walk into the world being disabled and brown, and it is made so much harder, when I am made to feel as though I owe everyone my emotional labour.

The reality is that there are professionals who do this work, who specialise in educating others about disability and race. And as much as I appreciate being given a voice, to expect me to do this work for free, is unfair, and I am often taken advantage of. My lived experience does undoubtedly make me knowledgeable on topics such as these, but I am a young person trying to make ends meet while navigating systemic oppression for both the colour of my skin and my disability. It is exhausting and heartbreaking when on top of this, I am expected to patiently educate everyone I meet, despite their harmful actions towards me.

The most disheartening aspect of all of this is that I see it happen most in activist and change making spaces. These organisations exist to make the world more inclusive and accessible and yet, it is here that I am asked to do the most work. I am a fierce advocate for disabled and POC communities, but this work needs to be done with the respect of our boundaries around emotional labour. There needs to be an end to the expectation that disabled people of colour must pour their heart and soul into every conversation. If there is not, then these spaces are actively contributing to the objectification of disabled people of colour, turning us from autonomous people into a free resource.

I am not a resource, deep down I know this, but it is so difficult to believe that when society continues to tell me otherwise.

I wish my experiences were more easily preventable, I wish that there was more funding to make disability and racial justice education more accessible. I wish that I could just be, and I wish that I could advocate for my communities without being taken advantage of. Most of all I wish I could express these wants, without fear of being shamed or perceived as selfish.

It is a beautiful thing to have intersecting identities, and I whole heartedly love being a disabled person of colour. But in reality, this means I never get to switch off, or feel at home within any of my communities. Because, I am always having to advocate for another aspect of my identity, no matter the space I’m in.

There needs to be a fundamental change in the way we perceive people with lived experience. I have immense privilege in the fact that I have been given so many opportunities to speak about my experiences, but I am all too often shut down when I try to voice my concerns about recognition. We need to be listening to more disabled people and more people of colour, but most importantly, we need to respect the boundaries that come with this work. We are so much more than a resource.