March 27, 2026, would have been Alice Wong’s 52nd birthday. A writer, self-proclaimed “disabled oracle,” Alice named the world as it is while also refusing to accept its limits. Now a beloved ancestor, her words continue to guide movements for justice—shaping how we understand disability, its intertwinement with race, gender, and identity, and how grief and joy coexist in our daily practice.
Over more than two decades, through her storytelling and the platforms she built, Alice shifted who gets to be seen and heard, making space for disabled folks to use their voice and counter the narratives that determine who gets care and support.
To honor her birthday, we uplift her words—not just to remember, but to ground ourselves in what she made clear:
- Disability justice helps us understand how power operates.
- Telling our own stories resists erasure.
- Care and interdependence allow our movements and communities to endure on our journey to building a better world.
[Alice Wong sits in a powered wheelchair outdoors, wearing a pink tracksuit and posing for the camera. Photo credit: John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation.]
“Disability Is A Portal”
Alice didn’t treat disability as an isolated issue, but rather as a critical lens that reveals how our systems decide who is cherished and who gets to belong.
- “Disability is a portal, a way of focusing our gaze and sharpening our lens on the intricacies of humanity.” (source)
Through this portal, we see the decisions made around us: who is valued and who is excluded. It’s revealed that what often gets framed as “individual barriers” experienced by disabled folks is actually a result of systemic decisions that abandons them, pushes them to the margins, and treats their lives as expendable. For Alice, one of the most powerful ways to make this visible was to ensure disabled folks can tell their own stories.
- “Storytelling can be a resistance. It leaves evidence that we were here in a society that devalues, excludes, and eliminates us.” (source)
- “[And] hire people with disabilities as editors, reporters, and staff in every level of the organization… If you’re saying you can’t find qualified journalists, then that’s your problem and responsibility.” (source)
In a world that seeks to invisibilize folks with disabilities, Alice knew that when we tell our own stories, we disrupt that erasure. We shift the power of who gets to shape what is seen, what is remembered, and what we believe is possible.
“Care Is Not a Checklist”
Building true power is impossible if we ignore the varying identities within our communities. Alice was clear: we cannot organize effectively if we treat disability as a “single issue”.
- “We cannot build power and organize when we dismiss multiple marginalized people within our community… We cannot build power and organize when the experience of ableism is used as a shield for racism, sexism, and xenophobia… [or] when we act as a monolith focused on a single issue or valuing a particular approach above others.” (source)
None of our lives exist in isolation; movements for justice don’t either. And sustaining this work for the long haul requires genuine care.
- “Care is not a checklist of tasks and responsibilities. Care is a shared value and actions operating in a larger political context within a hypercapitalist, racist, ableist society that devalues certain types of labor and bodies.” (source)
In a society that treats people as disposable—especially BIPOC queer and trans disabled folks—caring for each other is an act of resistance. And if disability is the portal that Alice offers us, then on the other side is a future shaped by those living at the intersections; where our struggles are understood as connected, leadership reflects those most impacted, and people are not pushed out for having needs. That kind of future cannot be built without genuine care—without accounting for access, capacity, and the realities people are navigating daily. Care is what enables folks to stay in the work, lead, and build power over time.
[Alice Wong sits in a powered wheelchair outdoors, wearing a purple sweater and bright red lipstick. She is smiling at the camera holding her memoir “Year of the Tiger”. Photo credit: Eddie Hernandez]
An Act of Love and Resistance
Across these words, we see how disability justice moves across every struggle for justice— narrative change, racial, gender, and economic justice—and how necessary it is to be in partnership with those on the frontlines to help realize the kind of world we are conjuring into being.
For over a decade, Borealis Philanthropy has been guided by the wisdom of movement leaders like Alice—resourcing and learning from grassroots organizers who are building what care, interdependence, and collective power look like in practice. At Borealis, this has meant supporting disability justice work at the intersections of narrative change, health, education, safety, and the arts, as well as initiatives like the Black Disabled Liberation Project and Joy Grants that invest directly in the leadership, strategies, and brilliance of disabled organizers.
- “There is so much that able-bodied people could learn from the wisdom that often comes with disability. But space needs to be made. Hands need to reach out. People need to be lifted up.” (source)
In her final words, Alice reminds us who this work is for and how we carry this forward together.
- “You all, we all, deserve everything and more in such a hostile, ableist environment. Our wisdom is incisive and unflinching. I’m honored to be your ancestor and believe disabled oracles like us will light the way to the future.” (source)
At Borealis Philanthropy, our role is to stay in the right relationship to that work—resourcing it, learning from it, and moving in partnership with the leaders shaping what comes next. We invite you to stay in that work with us: to resource, support, and stand alongside the communities building a world where everyone has what they need to live, to belong, and to thrive.