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In Crip Time
2024, essayI can feel my ambition rotting in my chest as I am bound by the will of my body. It feels almost cruel that I am capable of imagining so much else for myself. My bed has become my sanctuary- a haven for my weary muscles and aching lungs. I engage with the world laying down. I write and read and watch horizontally. In my bed, time seems to run on my own terms. There is an ample amount of time for me to create, to rest, to grieve, to be sick, to hold my broken body in two hands and nurse it back to some semblance of something more functional. From my bed, I become enveloped in crip time.
Crip time, a cornering piece of conversation and concept within crip theory and disability studies, is “A concept arising from disabled experience that addresses the ways that disabled/chronically ill and neurodivergent people experience time (and space) differently than able-bodyminded folk” (Center for Disability Studies, University of Minnesota). A sick body operates on a clock that differs from the rest. For the most part, time moves slower and is felt through the need for time laying flat and waiting to be on the other side of palpable dysfunction. On the other hand, there is also a notable fear of ‘wasting’ time that naturally follows; the fear that we are falling behind our peers and begging time to wait long enough so that one could come even just close to catching up. There is a fear that we won’t reach our full potential, or even half of it, due to ‘wasting’ time being sick- as if caring for ourselves is ever truly a waste.
In the early spring of this year, I felt the full extent of my weakened immune system as I carried the weight of a crippling bout of meningitis which had forced upon me a brief stint in the ICU. Standing so close to my own death, I felt time stop. It all seemed very quiet to me, eerily peaceful and surreal. I spent almost two weeks asleep. Crip time for me then carried a lot of grief and I became unable to exist outside of bed. For a moment, I lost my sense of self- I became some hollow form learning how to live again. I was, and still am, a person who wants to do a lot of things trapped in the body of a person who needs a lot of rest. At the time, I had felt like I was wasting away by sleeping excessively even though I was too sick to stand. I felt guilty- like my illness was some kind of moral failing, a disappointment to the world around me. When I finally was somewhat well enough to return to work, the outside world felt foreign to me. Time had continued for everyone else, yet I had felt it at a standstill.
The art installation My Bed (1998) by Tracey Emin is a repulsive confessional piece on her experience of being bedridden in the midst of a long depression. Alina Cohen writes of this piece: “When Emin finally left her sheets, she examined the mess she’d created. Crumpled tissues, period-stained clothing, cigarettes, empty vodka bottles, a pregnancy test, lubricant, and condoms surrounded her bed. She decided it was a work of art” (Cohen 2018). This setting of living in a state of obscura created by your own body is deeply uncomfortable and almost nauseating. “Yet My Bed also elicits warmer, more personal responses. It remains one of contemporary art’s most striking depictions of vulnerability, a self-portrait that doesn’t veer from the messiness of depression and heartbreak. In particular, it appealed to viewers who connected their own painful experiences to those implied by Emin’s installation” (Cohen). Emin’s work confronts the uncomfortable reality of living with sickness, urging the onlooker to find the subtle beauty in that raw and ugly state of vulnerability.
The notion that disabled people have little to no intrinsic value stems from our capitalist-centric society and culture. The expectations of disabled people are so non-existent that it becomes some kind of feat to see a body different from the status-quo do anything similar to an able-bodied person. The world revolves around work and worth, which has been deemed by society as socially acceptable to strip away from the sick person, which also inherently strips them of their personhood. In the article “Capitalism & Disability: A Symposium on the Work of Marta Russell”, an idea is posed, stating that “disabled people are not, as they are often framed in dominant culture, a “burden to society,” but are actually a valuable resource” (Adler-Bolton and Veirkrant 2023). When the very idea of what a life of value looks like revolves around their contributions to the circle-jerk of capitalism and less so on who they are as an individual, I would argue that the concept of value is being misplaced. There is, of course, value in work- but it ceases to exist if there is no adjoining value placed on rest and on the physical body itself.
Existing in crip time alongside others is both a collective celebration and a collective sorrow. My relationship to crip time is ever shifting. Now, with a deeper understanding of my physical form, crip time is more often liberating and forgiving. Allowing myself to exist in a different plane of time has also allowed me to settle into my idea of myself. It bleeds all over my work; I write and I create with no chronological bounds. There is, however, a very alienating facet to the concept and practice of crip time- I am alone in my bed, I am alone in my work, I am alone in my body. The passing of time often is thick and sluggish to me. Crip time, in turn, bends this meet this by creating room for my body to exist and live in the way it needs.
In embracing crip time, I find solace not only in the acknowledgment of my limitations but also in the sheer richness of experiences that emerge from this unique relationship with time and space. My bed, once a symbol of confinement, transforms into an open space for creation, reflection, and connection. I’ve come to understand that existing within this altered reality is not solely about enduring; it is about redefining what it means to live a valuable life. Ultimately, crip time invites us to question the rigidity of traditional timelines and encourages a more compassionate understanding of existence.
Works Cited
Adler-Bolton, Beatrice, and Artie Vierkant. “Capitalism & Disability: A Symposium on the Work of Marta Russell.” LPE Project, 13 Oct. 2022, lpeproject.org/blog/capitalism-disability-a-symposium-on-the-work-of-marta-russell/.
Cohen, Alina. “Tracey Emin’s ‘My Bed’ Ignored Society’s Expectations of Women.” Artsy, 30 July 2018, www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-tracey-emins-my-bed-ignored-societys-expectations-women.
Terminology | Critical Disability Studies Collective, cdsc.umn.edu/cds/terms#:~:text=Crip%20time%3A%20A%20concept%20arising,differently%20than%20able%2Dbodyminded%20folk. Accessed 19 Sept. 2024.