Why I Call Myself "Disabled"

So I have a very important confession to make. Are you ready? It’s a big one.

 I’m disabled.

That may sound a little silly to those of you who know me. You’re probably thinking, “ I know that already, you’re in a wheelchair,” but I want you to listen again. I am disabled. I am not a person with disabilities I am a disabled person and that is really important to me.

You’re probably thinking, “ what the big deal? It means the same thing. Why is she making such a big deal about this?“ The truth is being disabled is something that is deeply intrinsic to my identity. It’s not something I can separate from myself. It is a part of who I am, and a very important part of what makes me, well me! I am disabled. This is something I claim, my disability is part of my experiences, and it’s not just something that can be taken away. This is why language is so important to me.

I am disabled because this is how I choose to identify. Just like I am a woman. I am a sister. I am daughter.  I am a Christian. I am a white person.  I am a writer. I am a feminist. Nobody would ever expect me to say I am a person with womaness, sisterness, daughterness,whiteness, Christianess, writerness, or feministness. So why then must I talk that way about my disability? Why must I pretend the disability is like an accessory, and that if you  took it away you would still have everything that is the essence of me?  Why must I pretend that my disability and my personhood are two separate things that can be divided cleanly? Why must I perform linguistic gymnastics to avoid making my disability part of me ? Why must I go out of my way to describe it as something similar to a suitcase that I can pick up and put down whenever I so please? Why must I pretend that it’s not important? That it’s just a simple add-on and it doesn’t change anything? What is so bad about disability that I must be told not to claim it as part of myself? Why must I do all of these things when they couldn’t be further from the reality of my life?

I am disabled. My disability is a part of me, and I may not always like it but it is always there. I cannot put it down for a rest and  live a different life as if it did not exist. I am disabled. Being disabled informs every decision I make and can not be  considered after-the-fact as if it barely matters at all. My impairments effect the  way I move through and experience the world around me. Every single moment of my life has been filtered through the lens of disability. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just the truth.

 I get around differently, go through different entrances fight different battles, and consider different things than non-disabled people. My life has been fundamentally different because of my disability, and I refuse to deny that fact.
 
I am disabled, and I will declare that proudly. I cannot pretend that if you took my disability away I would be the same person, or even close. My experiences of the disabled person have deeply affected the way I see the world. Being disabled has shaped my path in life .it has  shaped my passions, my desires, and the person I want to be. I won’t talk about my disability as if it is some inconsequential accessory. I won’t pretend that if you took it away you would still have the person I am now, because you wouldn’t. I am Karin. I am a woman.  I am a sister. I am a daughter. I am a Christian. I am a white person.  I am a writer. I am a feminist. I am disabled. All of these  things have helped make me that the person I have become. I am not afraid to say I’m disabled, because it is a part of me, and I couldn’t be prouder.


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No, I Am Not “Pretty for a Disabled Girl”

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Sticks and Stones