The pandemic has been a brutal reminder that disabled people don’t matter. Living through this, as a disabled person with a wonky immune system, has been a reminder that my life doesn’t matter to most.

Where I do matter is in my disability community, the community of folks at such risk of this deadly disease who have rallied and worked together to protect ourselves. After two years of the pandemic, of the lockdowns, of the forgetting and the ignoring and the gut-wrenching fear, my nerves are sanded raw, jangling now at the slightest breeze of change. A new variant is announced, restrictions for me creep back in, and I’m left to wonder if this is how it will be from now on. No more music, no more crowds, no more indoor anything really, and no more footy. For the rest of my life.