thread alert! indulge me.
30 years ago today, following tooth-and-nail insistence, the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed. less than 2 years later, a random genetic mutation would place me amongst its beneficiaries.
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30 years ago today, following tooth-and-nail insistence, the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed. less than 2 years later, a random genetic mutation would place me amongst its beneficiaries.
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While Osteogenesis Imperfecta would cause my bones to break easily, my parents never used that as an explicit reason why I couldn’t do something. They knew that society had started doing that the moment that I was born.
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Our world and its architects would tell me that I couldn’t vote and couldn’t sit with my friends at the movies and couldn’t eat at that diner and couldn’t get on the train to New York and couldn’t date like “normal”.
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It would say I couldn’t dance at that bar on Division Street and couldn't wear that bathing suit because my ribs are deformed and couldn’t get off the plane until everyone else had and couldn’t achieve without making someone else feel better about themselves.
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So what did I do? I pretended like I wasn't disabled. I scooted up stairs, developed a pain tolerance, took unnecessary risks, and apologized for my presence. When I inevitably fractured, I pushed love away so it didn’t see me broken. If no one sees, maybe they’ll never know?
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For the most part, it worked. Until years and years of lying to myself left me feeling less human. I had waged a misdirected war, and I was both the enemy and the ally.
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Instead of advocating for myself when the cab driver broke my chair, I became angry that I needed a chair in the first place. When I mustered a voice to ask for the bare minimum, I apologized profusely. When my bones broke, I cursed the body that had healed 100 times before.
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I constantly questioned my worth instead of putting normative culture and the promises of the ADA to task.
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What changed?
I began reconciling how my self-righteous complacency is a privilege (a white privilege, no less). Every cut corner & concession moved me forward while pushing #PWD back. True freedom would continue to elude Us so long as I was denying grounds for atonement.
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I began reconciling how my self-righteous complacency is a privilege (a white privilege, no less). Every cut corner & concession moved me forward while pushing #PWD back. True freedom would continue to elude Us so long as I was denying grounds for atonement.
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I began seeking out role models who looked like me and were proud to look like me. I began using my voice to speak up with conviction when words or action, regardless of their intent, had hurtful implications. I began living unapologetically. I asked for help.
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I don't share this journey because I'm proud. In fact, I'm deeply ashamed that the road to this place was so long.
I share because radical self-love and authentic existence are revolutionary. They're our strongest defense and our most counter-cultural act of rebellion.
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I share because radical self-love and authentic existence are revolutionary. They're our strongest defense and our most counter-cultural act of rebellion.
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To everyone who's come before, you've moved the needle in innumerable, thankless ways.
To my fellow disableds, get some sleep. The next 30 years start tomorrow. We have work to do.
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To my fellow disableds, get some sleep. The next 30 years start tomorrow. We have work to do.
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