The wheelchair often becomes the point of attention when people first meet me. I often get met with “What happened to you?” or “But you’re so young!”. Questions that are meant with no malice I know. Society has ingrained in many the perception that the wheelchair is one of the defining symbols of disability. However, if we were to literally remove my wheelchair from the picture, would you still be able to perceive any indicators of my disability?
When we remove my wheelchair rather literally from the picture, it becomes almost imposibile to recogize any of my conditions. Their lack of visibility does not however make them any less real. Society, as we have seen repeatedly, tends to validate only those disabilities in which it can ‘prove’ the condition/the condition is visible. This is extremely problematic as only a small percentage of the disabled population are classed as having a ‘visible disability’.
Using myself as an example, I live with organ prolapse, I’m reliant on a suprapubic catheter, I experience extreme levels of chronic pain, I have PTSD, Dyspraxia, find too much visual stimuli brings on migraines and numerous other conditions that are not immediately obvious. These symptoms can impact day-to-day functioning, and when combined, they can be truly debilitating. Creating a more accessible world would greatly enhance the lives of those with disabilities. This would involve not only providing wheelchair access but also increasing the availability of disabled-friendly facilities, raising awareness among retail staff about the various challenges customers may face e.g visual, auditory, sensory difficulties etc and working to create an inclusive environment of understanding and patience.
It’s vital to recognize that disability is unique to every individual and illness. It’s a sliding scale in which each person moves in accordance with their changing conditions and the factors that are impacting them that day. It’s a vast scale; we need to refrain from reducing people and their disabilities to simple tickboxs.
Dystonia and Me 