Transcript of Why? - A Video by Frances Woods

This video is narrated by Frances Woods.

Narrator: Inspired by Bob Flanigan’s Poem Why.

Because we move through this world together but also so apart. Because people used to ask questions about you when you were right beside me. Because it wasn’t until recently that I knew what to say back. Because my words don’t often come easily or on time, and art has always been your language. Because we used to cuddle in bed together as little girls. Because when you were born, I loved you and cradled you. Because I still want to cradle you, even though we’re both grown. Because you always cradled me with your unconditional friendship. Because in the complications of adulthood, I miss being little girls, resting on each other at the end of the day, listening to each other’s breaths grow deeper as we fall asleep.

Because you love rollercoasters and scary rides I would never go on. Because your laugh is infectious and pulls me up and around like a kite. Because I went to your school plays every year, where you put on Jesus Christ Superstar, dressed in full hippie garb as Cher, while you sang “I got you, babe”, with your boyfriend dressed as Sonny.

Because you changed the words of Jesus Christ, Superstar, to: [sings] Jesus Christ, Superstar, who in the hell do you think you are? Because at the beginning of these plays every student had to confess their diagnosis to the audience, the problems that their diagnosis caused, and how they were going to try to do better next year. Because so many of my memories of your life are like this, so acerbic, so sweet. Because you were put in school just for people with your diagnosis. Because these schools believed extinction and flooding were effective. Because I saw you restrained. Because I’ve seen the lag time between punishment and anger. Like lava, it can bubble and bubble until it explodes. Because the blame has been more on you than the things done to you. Because there’s a big part of my heart that’s always crying for what the world has done to you. Because of A B A. Because for two years you asked everyone you met what kind of poo they had that day and if any poor soul gave you an answer you’d tell everyone you knew all about it. The time, texture and colour.

Because you used to write hate letters to whoever I was dating, but always ending them with the salutation love. Because as a young queer I refused to shave my legs, and when our parents put a razor in the shower, to encourage me to look more normal, you unwittingly had my back by using it to shave off your eyebrows and sideburns. Because we still give each other butterfly kisses and you still touch my damn armpits every time I see you. Because you’re the only person who I can just be silent with. Because as a kid, my blood was drawn for autism studies to find the connections between you and me. Because when we were young, we were part of a TV special on autism, and I remembered how weird I felt being filmed while putting my dinner in the microwave. Because I think I felt a bit of what you must feel all the time, special and abject. A spectacle just by virtue of being myself. Yet, implicitly being asked to do something, perform something. But what, I had no idea. Because of all the times I haven’t understood, haven’t been there, done something, or done nearly enough. Because we grew up in a house together, ate dinners, fought, walked down the streets together. Because you hated that pink brick house on the corner with everything you had.

Because we still talk about that damn ugly house and I hate it now too. Because you know every highway, every street, every route in the city. Because you hate lululemon and will tell every person who’s wearing it just this. Because you’re not afraid to go up to anyone, introduce yourself and ask them about their lives. Because you see the world through art and make the most beautiful gifts for all my trips and special occasions. Because the one time you decided to take matters into your own hands, you got the keys and started the car to go to Montreal. Because we spend summer days rocking on the broken but still swinging bench, in the backyard of your home, while you play Candy Crush on my phone.

Because we hang out on the corner and steal Tim Horton’s internet connection to blast Taylor Swift

Because you long to explore the whole world. But the outside can be a hard place, so instead, visit everywhere through Google maps. Because you break into the houses across the street, just to sit on their couch, and look at us through the window. Because I remember how terrified I felt, all those times when you would be gone and neighbours, police and family members searched for you until night break. Because sometimes you were far away but once you were just in the basement playing in the dollhouse. Because you love long, fast, drives. Because you love old houses and bulldozing them to make new condos moves you to tears.

Because you’ve seemed so thin, and alone and scared. Because you love to dance and laugh and are infinitely curious about the world. Because you just got right on the chair and insisted to be held up in the air at our nephew’s bar mitzvah. Because on that horrible night at the police station, you made a list of what makes you happy. Because you’re so resilient, you found a way to hold yourself through it all. Because you weren’t allowed to come home for Easter because you had a behavioural outburst and withholding family was your consequence. Because after driving almost two hours to visit you I was told by staff I couldn’t come in because of your behaviour. Because so many people think that your problems are behaviour. But many of your problems likely stem from people thinking that your problems are behaviour. Because of all the memories that climb up, like rocks in my throat

Because you asked if my disabled friends also have to go to a day program. Because you show me nature when we go for long walks through the trails near your house. Because you sort shoes at stores, deliver the mail to residents at your day program, and dust furniture at warehouses. But these compulsory activities are called volunteering. Because the world isn’t safe for you until you can control people’s hairstyles. Because for years we spent Christmas, Hanukkah, birthdays, and anniversaries in sweats because you hated all other pants. Because you use to take one egg out of the fridge every morning and throw it out the back door

Because we still have sleepovers every once in a while, and your breathing beside me gives me back a bit of my childhood. Because of you, because of the world, because there’s so much left undone, and so much left to do. Because we’re pals. Because I love you.