I Protested My Own Exhibit and It Made People Cry (Final Post!)

 

It all started with yet another shitty walk.

There I was, barely trailing behind a large group of my peers. We made it midway through the diagonal dimension of Universidad De Los Andes when I realised, I had forgotten by QR for leaving the building. My group, about an escalator ahead of me, was too far for me to ask anyone to scan me out, and I wasn’t exactly about to yell. With no other choice, I turn around, and head back up the stairs with one thought floating in my mind; I am done with this ableism.

Don’t get me wrong; for the most part, my group is amazing at taking care of me. But when they slip up, they’re not the ones who fall, it’s me. And to be honest, after a month of travelling with these people, I kind of expected more. Well, if you asked past-tense-steam-coming-out-of-her-ears-level-of-infuriated Milly I expected and deserved a LOT more. Nonetheless, a plan is born.

It didn’t start as a protest. Initially, it was an angry text drafted on a bench in the rain. Whilst I angrily typed away, the rest of my group set up the exhibition of everything we had worked on during our time in Colombia. Every seat inside was being stood on to hang things up. Once the things were hung up, the benches were moved outside. There was nowhere I could sit if needed other than that bench in the rain. Then, that cartoon lightbulb appeared above my head as I put the pieces together. There would be no angry text to my group. Instead, I would turn to the teachings of Elspeth Tilley [1].  

I devised my plan. I would wait until the exhibit had started. Then, I would sneak back onto the bench, this time with my laptop, covered by plastic so as not to be damaged by the torrential rain. On my laptop, it would read I am a disabled person. There weren’t enough seats inside, so I’m sitting out here. No one, other than my girlfriend, who I called beforehand to make sure I hadn’t just completely lost my mind, would be told in advance. Most importantly, I would remind no one that I needed a seat. If anyone asked if I needed one, then I would say yes, and the protest would be called off. As you can probably guess by the existence of this post, no one did. So, when 6 o clock came round it was go-time.

For the first 10 or so minutes I truly questioned my decision-making skills. Here I was, sitting under the darkening Bogota clouds on a soaking bench, soaked by the rain with no one by my side but my laptop. To anyone on the outside, I probably looked mental. It certainly didn’t help that I had a handful of blunders at the start. I managed to accidentally right-click on my laptop, which caused the menu box to cover all my text. Then, shortly after I sorted that out, my screen turned off completely. In fact, the first group member who found me showed up during that period of my laptop being turned off, and he was absolutely lost on what I could possibly be doing sitting in the rain with my laptop facing away from me. He made a joke about it being a protest about “disabilities always being the shadows” and funnily enough, he got it, without my laptop being on.

Once I had gotten everything straightened out, I sat and watched the passersby, redirecting them to the exhibit if I could. One thing that interested me was the fact that most of them didn’t read my sign; Usually, it was “What are you doing out here?!” or “Aren’t you cold?!”, but surprisingly most people ignored the explanation that sat in my lap. Eventually, a rather concerned Elspeth came outside, who had unfortunately been searching for about 20 minutes. It started with her saying the usuals but then she read the sign. At first, I felt guilty for making Elspeth feel guilty. Turns out that it was her who’d moved most of the chairs outside and she felt terrible. It resulted in both of us having a good cry and her stating how glad she was she chose me for the trip amongst other kind words. To be honest, this moment probably takes the cake for the highlight of the trip. It was such a touching, genuine moment and Elspeth's words will stick with me for many years to come. 

From there, more and more people started to find me and view my "performance exhibition". In fact, Elspeth led the Head of Humanities at Universidad de Los Andes to speak to me. Many people took photos of me, all of which I held back tears, all of which I looked like the clown from It. The commotion really started, however, when I came inside. Although a good chunk of my group had noticed me outside, those who hadn’t seemed to be hit the hardest. A lot of people seemed to be shookethed. One of my friends started crying, feeling awful that they hadn’t noticed that I’d been gone all this time and that no one had thought to help. Another kind of hovered around me, asking questions every now and then. One consistent thing between everyone, inside and outside who helped organise the event was an apology, to which I would always say “It’s okay.” This got me multiple telling-offs, as they would tell me that it wasn’t okay, actually. And to be completely honest, they were right. Eventually, I just resorted to awkward fist bumps in response.

Soon we wrapped up the exhibit and I went home and had a shower because I only truly realised how freezing it was outside after I went inside. All and all, everything worked out pretty well, a good handful of my group seemed more aware of my needs after that, and I lived happily ever after.

The end.

Adios amigos,

Milly.

1.    Footnotes:

1. Elspeth Tilley is a lecturer of Expressive Arts at Massey University who has done a bunch of cool things regarding theatre. She is a big advocate of using art as a form of protest, my lecturer and a total fucking badass.

Final notes:

Wow, it’s over! This has been an absolutely amazing experience, and I am so grateful to have been chosen for it. Being so Milly Matthews™ has been terrifying, but the love and support you have all given me whether in the comments or my DMs or in passing remarks has made this whole ordeal worth it. There is not a second of it I would trade, I have met some of the most amazing people over there who I would have never met otherwise, had some of the most amazing experiences, and just all round had a good time. I really hope to come back one day on the individual scholarship. Who knows, maybe we could have Milly’s Gay Guide to Bogota 2: Electric Boogaloo. But finally, and most importantly, I have some thank yous.

Thank you to Elspeth and Leonel for picking me to be here. Throughout this trip, both of you have been amazing in every regard and acted as our parents away from home.

Thank you to the PMSLA 2025 group, Kamaia, Jordana, Lucy, Hunter, Maria, Nikki, Bella, Jessie & Sam for being there with me every step of the way and being my biggest fans on the ground (especially you Kamaia!) However, I don’t think it would be fair if I didn’t give an extra big thank you to Maria. Maria, thank you so much for being an amazing (and my first ever) roommate, thank you for always having the time to read over every blog post I asked you to, and thank you for being my best friend in Colombia.

Thank you to all the staff and volunteers who were with us during the trip, Alejandra, Ernie, Nico, Antonia & Maria Jose, for providing both support and friendship throughout this trip. Also thanks Antonia for calling me a punk.

Thank you to Amy for being the most amazing, wonderful girlfriend I could ever ask for. Even when we are oceans apart you still find a way to be my main support, my confidant and my editor.

Thank you to Meadow, my best friend, for always seeming to find something to comment on my blog.

Thank you to Nathaniel for being the only official subscriber to my blog.

Thank you to Veronica and the rest of the Embera community for inviting us into your homes and showing us the reality of your lives.

Bronx coming soon.

Thank you to Universidad de Los Andes, Education New Zealand, and Massey University for providing everything, from money to classes that made this trip possible.

And finally, if you haven’t been thanked already, thank YOU. Whether you’ve been here from day one or have just joined for this final post, I thank you so much for reading my writing. You are the people which made Milly’s Gay Guide to [Bogota] Colombia worth writing, and [hopefully] have contributed to a beautiful A+.

Okay, adios amigos for real this time,

Milly Matthews.

Los amo a todos.