Growing up hard of hearing in a hearing world with multiple disabilities and medical challenges has always been a reality for me—one that I accepted and, frankly, was proud of before I could even talk, thanks to a strong support system growing up.
However, throughout this journey, I’ve come to find the same thing over and over again: it’s not the disabilities, the challenges, or the differences that make navigating life difficult or even, at times, traumatic.
It’s the lack of acceptance and belonging from people, society, and systems. It’s inaccessibility, discrimination, stigma, and bias toward those who are different—those who have disabilities, who identify differently, or who navigate the world differently. And that’s just to name a few.
It’s easy to say, “I” or “we don’t discriminate,” “we’re inclusive,” “we’re accessible,” or “we accept all kinds.” But those are just words if actions show otherwise.
Throughout my life, I’ve had my fair share of bullying, discrimination, and more. But in 27 years of life and 12+ years of education, I’ve never felt my disabilities more than I have in the past four years.
Part of that is because aspects of my medical conditions have worsened. But an even bigger part is because I found myself within systems—really, multiple systems—that neglected to see beyond the surface. Systems that treat disability as less than, not good enough, or not worthy enough.
Never in 27 years did I question whether I can or cannot. The answer, from day one, was always that I CAN do whatever I set my mind to. That’s the motto I spoke about on stage the day of my undergraduate graduation: “Nothing is Impossible.” It’s a motto I’ve lived by and always believed to be true—until I was treated in ways that made me question the opposite. Something I once thought could never happen.
If you know me, you know I’ve never let anyone but myself define me, much less my abilities. But in recent years, I fell short of that. I let systems—and those in positions of power—define what I was worth based on their misguided, minimally informed, and distorted perceptions of me. Because ultimately, these people and systems hold power over my end goal.
So why do I write all of this?
Not to sulk or ask for sympathy, but to send an important message—and to use my voice for those who don’t have one, or who are afraid to use theirs.
We need to do better as a society.
It’s one thing not to know, as long as you’re willing to learn. But we need to stop assuming what disabilities or differences mean and stop overgeneralizing them. We need to stop assuming that everyone with a disability is the same.
We need to treat people with disabilities—or even those who are simply different—for what we are: human. Not less than, not strange, not incapable. Just human. With rights, dreams, ambitions, and souls.
We deserve the same dreams. We deserve the same opportunities without having to beg for the chance to prove we’re worthy. Without having to settle. Without having to advocate endlessly just to be given a fair chance.
So to the systems and those in positions of power: please do better.
And if you are reading this as someone with a disability, someone who feels like an outsider, or someone who simply feels different—you are not alone. You deserve to be heard. You deserve to have a voice. And you deserve to chase your dreams without barriers or constant battles.
You are capable of anything.
But you do not have to settle for anything less than respect, or allow anyone to make you feel like you must accept their false perceptions of who you are.
Link to reel: https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1GBq9NZ2xg/
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