From the Leech (on the Dole)

Canada has a clause in its immigration policy which states:

An applicant may be refused on health grounds – if their condition:

1. is likely to be a danger to public health or public safety, or
2.  might reasonably be expected to cause excessive demand on health or social services

If I ever wanted to become a Canadian citizen, I couldn't.  My needs, you see, would put excessive demand (read:  burden) on taxpayers.  Who I am doesn't matter.  Why I may need a new home doesn't matter.  The bottom line is the dollar.  How much I leech, suck up, steal from everyone else.

America doesn't (to my knowledge) have a clause like this to immigrate.  But that doesn't mean those who need assistance aren't viewed as nothing.  I have been told I should commit suicide to stop taking from others, never mind corporate subsidies often take more from a person's paycheck than what social programs do.  I've been told I should have been euthanized when my disability was discovered.

Success is measured by money, thus, so is worth.  I am an unbalanced ledger, splattered in red.  I am the person requesting ramps beside the stairs.  I am the one who smiles when strangers gawk, point, and spit at me.

I am a wife, daughter, sister, friend.  I am a writer, certified genius, crafter, and lover of gel pens.  I have worked online with newly-disabled veterans to help them transition.  I live every day in pain that would incapacitate many people but still want to live to a hundred years of age.  I'm an advocate for people of all differences.

I am not yet as successful as I want to be, or am going to be, but I have worth.  And if you need green rectangles with dead presidents on them to see it, I'll draw you a damn picture.