For me, amongst the many benefits of having a disability, including epic parking, skipping queues, and pretending that a miracle has occurred every time that I stand up from my wheelchair, is the fact that my differences are always on display. Walking with a limp and using a wheelchair means I have little to hide, because as soon as people see me I often don't fit their definitions of ‘normal’. Not appearing ‘normal’ might seem like the worst thing possible to some people, but to me it’s a freedom. As soon as people see me I don’t fit in the box, so I get a pass to be so much more outside of that,
because If I’m going to be seen as different, I may as well push the boundaries right? And if people are going to stare I may as well give them something to consider.
People are naturally curious, eager to make new sense out of what they see, and I get to capitalise on that, showing others the beauty of difference, and sharing the insight that comes with it. I think the greatest thing a parent can do for their disabled child, is to instil a sense of pride within them, and to teach them to own their differences with confidence. My parents did this for me, whether it meant letting me dress with my own fun, unique style or join a dance class and perform in my own offbeat way. I was always rewarded for being true to myself.
Diversity breeds creativity, and our experiences help us to develop understanding and empathy, so I believe everyone should be encouraged to share their truth. Being disabled is my ‘normal’, and I believe there is no reason to separate normality from disability because everyone experiences some form of disadvantage at some point in their life. It is an inherently normal part of the human experience.
For me it’s bigger than my identity though, it’s about challenging the notion that there is a normal or right way to move and exist. As a ambulant disabled person my gait, my way of moving through the world, has been under analysis for as long as I can remember and it has always been critiqued. This makes sense as the biomechanics of my walk differ quite significantly from that of most other people, and there are certain physical consequences that come about because of that. However, next time you are out and about I challenge you to take a moment to consider how the people around you are moving, I guarantee you their gaits will all differ, because despite the fact that the basic bio-mechanics of walking are shared by most people, we are all individuals and that impacts how we translate those bio-mechanics into our own unique way of moving, each putting our own flare on how we get from point A to B. My friend Tamar Rogoff, who is an immensely talented choreographer, calls this ‘Body Intelligence’; the knowledge that is accrued in the body from a lifetime of personal experience that is expressed in our unique ways of movement.
So if all people have their own unique way of moving, even if it differs only slightly from the next person, how do we determine what ‘normal’ is and to what extent do we aim to replicate that? Who gets to decide when form gets prioritised over function, and when do we make the distinction between uniqueness and abnormality?
A lot of what makes me, me, is tied to my physicality, and it is presented in my walk, in my humour, and in my athleticism. At this point my ‘Cerebral Swagger’ is my trademark, as is my clumsiness, and my inability to sit still. Whilst on one hand my differences make certain parts of life more challenging, on the other they are my assets, fueling my passions.
My differences are on display, constantly, and that motivates me. It drives me to be creative, to live outside the confines of stereotypes and societal perceptions, to live positively and authentically, and to consider how we can make this world a better place for everyone. My differences are on display, and I relish that!
