V. H. King's Ink

The VALT Fund is less of a fundraiser and more of a strategic plan. 

Of the many things I’ve learned about myself throughout life’s changes, I like being practical and purposeful in my efforts.  I don’t just want to reach a goal; I want to do it in a way that makes the most sense for the when/where/how.  I plan with the expectation that I will grow and learn along the way—which means for every plan and idea, there’s wiggle room and flexibility.  When I allow myself to scrap everything and start over, I find I can better get at the core of what it is I’m going for. 

So what am I trying to do?

The VALT Fund is about much more than money.  Sure, I desperately need financial assistance with expenses such as an electric wheelchair and moving into an accessible living space.  But what about after that?  There will be needs that pop up unexpectedly, and while I can’t predict what they are, I can try to prepare for when they arrive.

Transitioning from full-time work to occasional self-employment is just that—a transition.  While there will be moments when it feels like I’ve dropped everything at once, I think the majority of this will be a gradual process of reevaluating my resources and requesting help as needed. 

I’m trying to make sure I can do more than just survive. 

I aim to embrace joy no matter my circumstances—but that doesn’t mean that life never sucks.  The realities of systemic oppression are everywhere, and they don’t magically disappear just because I keep a little pocket full of sunshine.  I will still have to navigate the world and its systems as someone who is Black, queer, and disabled.  That takes more than just money.  That takes a listening ear, a compassionate community, and a network of those who are able and willing to fight on my behalf when I don’t have anything left. 

I’m hoping this fund gives me more than a way to cover my financial backside.  I want to engage with others in the creative process.  I want to collaborate on art projects and stories.  I want to be part of a co-working space, whether virtual or in-person or a mix of the two, that sparks ideas and encourages people to pursue their creative endeavors. Does that exist?  Like a lot of things in life, maybe not all in one spot, and maybe not all at once.  But piece by piece, with a little bit here and there along the way, I think all of those things are possible.

Living accessibly means really living—not just scraping by on a whimper and a prayer.

While there will undoubtedly be of blood, sweat, and tears shed in this whole process, raising money is not the only reason why I’m here.  If I work so hard at this funding strategy and all its components that I burn myself out, what have I learned?  Not much, other than another way to burn myself out.  The whole point of my transition to accessible living is for it to be just that—accessible.  Something that meets my needs without demanding an undue burden on my capacity. 

Because my disabilities make that capacity difficult to gauge, what I’m able to do will look different day by day and season by season.  I can plan all I want to hit certain financial or creative goals, but it is imperative that I listen to and care for my body as I go about all this. 

The bottom line is if I need rest, I have to rest—regardless of the impulse to keep going.  I may have good reasons for wanting to push myself, but it’s not worth risking my entire well-being for.  That lesson has been a hard one for me to learn. 

The VALT Fund is my journey of relearning how to take care of myself and pursue my passions—and I’d love for you to join me.