{"version":"1.0","provider_name":"Love, Joy, Feminism","provider_url":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/lovejoyfeminism","author_name":"Libby Anne","author_url":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/lovejoyfeminism\/author\/libby","title":"When Did Disabled Life Stop Mattering?","type":"rich","width":600,"height":338,"html":"<blockquote class=\"wp-embedded-content\" data-secret=\"ulsXWUXXub\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/lovejoyfeminism\/2020\/06\/when-did-disabled-life-stop-mattering.html\">When Did Disabled Life Stop Mattering?<\/a><\/blockquote><iframe sandbox=\"allow-scripts\" security=\"restricted\" src=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/lovejoyfeminism\/2020\/06\/when-did-disabled-life-stop-mattering.html\/embed#?secret=ulsXWUXXub\" width=\"600\" height=\"338\" title=\"&#8220;When Did Disabled Life Stop Mattering?&#8221; &#8212; Love, Joy, Feminism\" data-secret=\"ulsXWUXXub\" frameborder=\"0\" marginwidth=\"0\" marginheight=\"0\" scrolling=\"no\" class=\"wp-embedded-content\"><\/iframe><script type=\"text\/javascript\">\n\/* <![CDATA[ *\/\n\/*! This file is auto-generated *\/\n!function(d,l){\"use strict\";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&\"undefined\"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!\/[^a-zA-Z0-9]\/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret=\"'+t.secret+'\"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret=\"'+t.secret+'\"]'),c=new RegExp(\"^https?:$\",\"i\"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display=\"none\";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute(\"style\"),\"height\"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):\"link\"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute(\"src\")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener(\"message\",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener(\"DOMContentLoaded\",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll(\"iframe.wp-embedded-content\"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute(\"data-secret\"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+=\"#?secret=\"+t,e.setAttribute(\"data-secret\",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:\"ready\",secret:t},\"*\")},!1)))}(window,document);\n\/* ]]> *\/\n<\/script>\n","thumbnail_url":"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/166\/2020\/06\/disabled-4027745_1920.jpg","thumbnail_width":768,"thumbnail_height":512,"description":"I think about the foster child I advocate for every time I hear people call for us to get back to normal on the argument that it is mostly people in nursing homes who are dying and they would have died anyway. It is this child---and others in similar situations---that they are talking about. For me, there is a face. A person."}