Tag Archives: Disability

SIX WORDS TO DELETE FROM YOUR DISABILITY VOCABULARY

Language is powerful and the words we use make a difference. That’s why we need to be careful to examine the words we use when we talk about disability and people with disabilities:

I could write full posts on each of these points, and perhaps I will in the future. But for now, here are six terms that we need to delete from our vocabulary around disability and disabled people.

I. Inspirational

There is a reason that inspiration porn is a widespread concept among the disabled community, and it’s because disabled people are done with being labeled as inspirational for simply existing. The very [very] common mentality that disabled people are inspiring for living in a disabled body implies that living with disability is something that one shouldn’t be able to do, or that is so extraordinarily difficult and unimaginable. This has lead to viewing disabled people as inspiring for just being or doing the most commonplace of tasks, such as going to school, living independently, or not being constantly miserable because they are disabled. And if you think that’s an exaggeration, trust that it is not–many disabled people [and in my circle, many blind people] can tell you story upon story.

II. Special Needs

Far from being a term of endearment or a position of favour, special has become a derogatory term for the unique needs or accommodations of disabled people. “You’re special” often becomes an insult, meant to dehumanize and devalue the differences and unique ways in which every human being lives. The truth is that what many consider to be “special” needs are just adaptations, but the basics of what we all need are the same, which turns them from special needs into what they are: human needs.

III. Burden

Many disabled people will need extra help at different times, and this can often cause a feeling of being a burden or “too much.” Unfortunately, it isn’t only disabled people that feel like a burden–able-bodied people, both today and in the past–have used this term to describe their disabled equals. Saying that one is a burden only furthers the false belief that the needs and accommodations of a disabled person are more troublesome and harder to handle than the needs and accommodations of a non-disabled person.

IV. Caregiver

The term caregiver is not inherently ableist or negative, but I want to address the use of this term, and moreso, the notion that disabled people always have one. Among others, I have been out and about with friends or family and been confronted with a stranger who assumed that my companion is a caregiver or caretaker. The implication here is that disabled people require a caregiver, and therefore, are incapable [or at least, less capable than non-disabled people] of being independent and self-sufficient. Having a caregiver doesn’t negate one’s own abilities and there’s no shame in this dynamic or using this word if it is the person’s preference, but we need to drop the assumption that disabled people have caregivers and a generalization of disability as being less capable of independence than those without disabilities.

V. Sorry

When mentioning a disability, this five-letter word is too quick to appear in the conversation. It speaks more to the cultural norm of pity as the appropriate response to disability than the individual’s personal perspective [although they may be synonymous]. Either way, the pity that disabled people face on a daily basis communicates that the life they live, which is often fulfilling and vibrant, isn’t as worty or satisfactory as a non-disabled person’s life, and this only further marginalizes disabled people from their able-bodied equals.

VI. Handicapped

I left this one for last for the sole purpose of it being one of the most problematic terms that exist around disability. However, it’s also one of the most common, with it being used to describe the “handicapped” parking spot or the “handicapped” stall in the bathroom, it’s engrained into our language.

What handicapped focuses on is the person’s disadvantage, or inability to live up to preconceived, able-bodied standards. It draws the attention to what a person cannot do rather than what they can. It points out their unique needs, making them into more than simply their individual, human needs. It takes away the human and replaces it with the disability.

So why then, is disabled an acceptable term?

Because being disabled is acceptable. It’s okay. It’s wonderful. It’s God-given and beautiful. With disabilities, we can still love, worship, help, feel joy and live fulfilling lives. And it’s much easier to do those things when disability is a celebrated part of a person’s identity… the way it should be.

[dis]Honourable Mentions:

  • Differently-abled
  • Handicapable
  • Cripple
  • Invalid

What other words should be added to the list? Let me know in the comments.

BREAKING FREEDOM — THE AIRLINE BROKE HER WHEELCHAIR [AND THOUSANDS MORE]

If once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, what do we say after the 15,000th time? It’s high time many airline companies answer that question, especially in regards to the countless wheelchairs and mobility scooters that have been broken, damaged, lost or stolen on their watch, and the disabled people that suffer the consequences.

Emily Ladau is a disability rights activist, author of Demystifying Disability, and a wheelchair user. On January 25, 2023, she shared a video entitled, “Flying Has Become Hell for Passengers with Wheelchairs” on her Facebook page, which documented how a typical flight plays out for her as a wheelchair user. As more than 15,000 wheelchairs have been broken, damaged or lost since reporting became mandatory in 2018, Emily knew it would inevitably happen to her.

It did. And now, more than a month after the airline damaged her wheelchair, it is still not fixed and is being held together by duct tape.

Wheelchairs are more than a mobility tool. They are freedom, independence, and as one woman so aptly put it: “It’s like breaking our legs” when they get damaged.

It’s time to stop the discrimination and the mistreatment of disabled people. It’s time we begin treating them and their freedom-giving equipment with the respect and care they deserve.

I encourage you to watch the video, share it with your family and friends, and join in the fight to end this abhorrent discrimination. It’s about time.

Don’t you agree?

You can buy Emily’s book, Demystifying Disability here.

SIX LESSONS I’VE LEARNED FROM MY THERAPIST

Therapy is for everyone. No matter if you think you need it or not, we are all human and have things we need to work through. Therapy is a wonderful, and for me, lifesaving tool.

This month, I’m celebrating my sixth anniversary of beginning my counselling journey. As I reflect on who I was when I first began to who I am now, it is a world of difference. I have a long, long way to go and there’s always more to learn, but I’m just so grateful for the therapy that I’ve been able to access, the gift of growth, and of course, my therapist.

Starting with the Foundation: Three Lessons

I. Having Cancer was Traumatic

Having been diagnosed with bilateral retinoblastoma at the age of four, I grew up with the “C word” being commonplace. I learned, whether explicit or implicit, that because I was fortunate enough to survive and be healthy now, I wouldn’t be traumatized. I survived, I was healthy, and I had a bright future ahead of me despite the challenges of my blindness.

But this optimism, while well-intentioned and a means to cope on behalf of those closest to me, lead me to question my mental health and search for the root cause of my anxiety and depression. And what my therapist, who is both a Christian and a trauma-informed practitioner, explained to me was that my cancer experience was indeed traumatic, and many of the issues I face are due to that trauma. Knowing this has freed me and allowed me a way to understand and move forward in my life in a much healthier and more fulfilled manner.

II. Spiritual Bypassing

Out of my years of therapy, spiritual bypassing is a concept I’ve only learned about within the last few months. Yet, it is revolutionary for how it has opened doors for me to begin deconstructing particular patterns and relationships.

Spiritual bypassing is defined, according to John Welwood, the psychotherapist who coined the phrase, as a “tendency to use spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and unfinished developmental tasks.” It is a fascinating concept which I am in the midst of delving into more deeply to gain a fuller understanding.

III. My Body Has Answers That I Don’t

I used to believe that I knew better than my body. It was just a collection of organs and physiological processes, right? But thanks to my therapist and the abundance of research available, I know that the body is much more than that. Our bodies and our minds are intimately connected, making our mental and physical health inseparable. The body remembers events and traumas that we’ve forgotten or buried. And if we learn to listen to its wisdom and signals, we will be closer to gaining an understanding of our pasts and how we can use that knowledge to shape a healthier future.

Building On the Foundation for a Healthier Future: Three More Lessons

IV. Let Go of a Toxic Self Image

Umm, let’s just say that my self image needs work! In my 26 years, I have become incredibly skilled at crafting an image of myself based solely on everything negative, shameful or uncomfortable that I have done, said or believed. While these are parts of me that I can’t erase from my past and will continue to work on, they are not what defines me and not [usually] how others view me. I hope to learn to forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made [and will make], and define myself by God’s standards rather than the world’s.

V. Deconstruct the Unhealthy Parts of My Faith

I have been a Christian since I was five and grew up in a conservative household. As I’ve matured into adulthood, I was able to begin disentangling what I’d been taught by the Church, the Bible and other Christians, and I want to continue this journey. This does not mean that I’m being selective in which parts of God’s teaching I believe. However, there are toxic teachings I have adopted which aren’t bringing me closer to God or showing His love to others. It’s these teachings and beliefs which I am hoping to shed as I continue to learn, grow and develop as a person and a follower of God.

VI. How to Talk to Others About My Journey

Talking comes naturally to me. Talking about deep, emotional and often traumatic experiences is another thing entirely. I’m hopeful that as I continue going to therapy, I will learn to balance my emotions with the knowledge that my mind and body hold, and engage in conversations that can help those around me understand and validate the journey I’m on.

Have you gone to therapy? Tell me about your experiences. What’s something you’ve learned there that you use in your life now?

THE PROBLEM WITH PET FRIENDLY BUSINESSES AS A GUIDE DOG HANDLER

Imagine being able to take Fido with you everywhere you go. To the mall, the movies or on a plane. This is the privilege granted to guide and service dogs and their handlers, and it needs to stay this way.

Sorry, Fido [and Fido’s owner]. But you need to stay home for this one. But keep reading: You do need to hear this.

It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? You no longer have to worry about leaving your fur baby home, wondering if he’s peed on the floor, chewed up your shoes or worried about how little exercise he’s getting since you left him in his crate when you left the house. Why not take him with you on your afternoon errands? After all, the sign says “Pets Welcome.” No harm, right?

But there is harm. The privilege that allows guide and service dogs to enter public facilities is not there to give handlers an extra advantage or special treatment. It’s there to level the playing field. This is because of two factors: first, service dogs are not pets, and second, service dogs are trained to perform a service that mitigates the challenges of a disability.

When pets are allowed in public spaces where the community gathers, there are three things that can result, and they are what I call the Three D’s: danger, distract and detract. Let’s take a moment to go through each.

It Can Place the Team in Danger

Service dogs are highly trained to provide a particular service to their handler. My guide dog, Saint, spent four months of intensive training to learn how to guide a blind person. This meant learning to avoid obstacles, stop at elevation changes such as stairs, curbs, keep a straight orientation when crossing streets, and how to keep safe around moving traffic. It is a rigorous process, and only 50% of the puppies bred into the guide dog program graduate and are matched with a handler. It is not a job for the faint of heart; it is physically and mentally taxing. The responsibility they carry of ensuring their blind handler stays safe and out of danger is not for just any dog.

But it isn’t only the guide dog that gets trained. Handlers spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to a month learning to work with their guide dog. It takes upwards of a year to become a solid working team, and a big portion of their success is that both the dog and handler has a trust and respect for the other, particularly in situations that may be dangerous or distracting. That’s how they get through… together.

The world is rife with dangers for people who are blind. While we learn skills and techniques to keep us safe and independent, we are still living in a world that isn’t designed for disabled people and poses many challenges. Drivers of vehicles that don’t check for pedestrians can make crossing busy intersections risky. Encountering aggressive dogs who may be off-leash or not well-controlled pose safety risks for both the dog and handler. A guide dog helps to bear that weight. But it becomes increasingly difficult if the dog gets distracted.

It’s a Distraction

Service dogs may be highly trained, but they are still dogs and thus, will get distracted. They are expected to stay focused and avoid distraction while out in the community. But distractions are everywhere: people, food and other dogs being the most enticing of temptations.

If a working dog does get distracted, often, it takes only a simple verbal or light leash correction to get them back on track. But it can be more. And when a guide dog is distracted, it takes their focus off of their job and their surroundings; their focus transfers to how to get what they’ve just discovered–that piece of pizza on the ground, a pet from that nice lady making kissy noises, or a sniff of that cute girl dog. In this state, without the dog watching out for the safety of their handler, the team may walk straight into danger. Imagine what might happen if a guide dog gets distracted while crossing a busy road? They may veer into the traffic rather than keep a straight line across. I don’t have to imagine–I’ve experienced it. And it’s terrifying.

Guide dogs are inundated with possible distractions whenever they venture out of the house with their handler. And your pet is a perfect opportunity. *sniff sniff*

It Detracts From the Dog’s Purpose

But the greatest problem is a simple one of entitlement. If I get to take my dog with me wherever I go, why can’t you?

It’s simple: My dog is a mobility tool. He keeps me safe. He helps me navigate spaces that are difficult to do independently because of poor or inaccessible design. He levels the playing field, giving me access to equal opportunities that I may not have access to otherwise.

Your pet does not.

If pets are permitted to go places where only service dogs have the privilege, it detracts from the purpose of the service dog. Not only does it make the dog’s job that much harder, but it undermines the dog’s reason for being a service dog; to do its job, the dog needs to stay safe and focused so that it can provide the service it was trained to do. If any dog is allowed anywhere, then the privilege that these dogs have as working members of the community becomes meaningless.

I know it’s hard to watch someone walk into seemingly any establishment they wish with their dog at their side. But it isn’t always easy: almost every handler has experienced denial because of their service dog. Sometimes, this results in the staff learning about the rights of guide and service dogs, but too frequently, the handler is forced to go somewhere else because their legal right to enter a public facility was unjustly refused. And it happens more often than you think. This happens because people are unaware of the laws and rights surrounding guide and service animals, but also because someone has had a negative experience–a disturbance or aggression–by a pet, and to keep their businesses and customers safe, they feel that refusing all animals is the only option.

But in that moment, a disabled person has been denied the access that able-bodied people take for granted because of something that wasn’t their fault.

You might tell me that your dog is trained, and that he’d never do such a thing. He never even barks. To that I say: that’s wonderful! I’m so glad and thankful that you’ve taken the time and energy to train your dog properly. But that still does not give you the right to bring him with you when you go into the community because if you do, you’re undermining the tens of thousands of dollars it takes to train one service dog, and the work they do for one disabled person so that they can live their life with a little less challenge, and a lot more freedom.

MY TOP READS OF 2022

To celebrate Disability Pride Month in July, I opened the Authors with Disabilities Showcase. This online bookstore began out of a deep desire to shed light on the diverse talent within the disabled community, and support a group of writers that often get marginalized and underrated. In my journey of searching for and adding new titles to the bookstore, I have collected many favourites along the way, and my TBR pile [To be Read] just keeps growing!

Now that 2022 is drawing to a close, I wanted to highlight a few of my favourite reads from the bookstore.
Disclaimer: The links in this post are affiliate links and I may earn a small commission from qualifying purchases.

Thunder Dog by Michael Hingson

There’s no such thing as being late to the party when it comes to a great book! Thunder Dog was published 10 years after the tragedy of 9/11, and I read it more than 10 years later. But we will never forget, and this book is a wonderfully, poignant reminder of that day.

“When one of four hijacked planes flew into the World Trade Center’s North Tower on September 11, 2001, Michael Hingson, a district sales manager for a data protection and network security systems company, was sitting down for a meeting. His guide dog, Roselle, was at his feet.

Blind from birth, Michael could hear the sounds of shattering glass, falling debris, and terrified people flooding all around him. But Roselle sat calmly beside him. In that moment, Michael chose to trust Roselle’s judgment and not to panic. They were a team.”

Buy Thunder Dog on Amazon.

How to Lose Everything by Christa Couture

Grief is hard to feel, but even harder to understand. But it helps to hear a fellow human speak openly about their own grief and their journey through it. If nothing else, it can help us feel less alone, which is sometimes, all we need.

“From the amputation of her leg as a cure for bone cancer at a young age to her first child’s single day of life, the heart transplant and subsequent death of her second child, the divorce born of grief and then the thyroidectomy that threatened her career as a professional musician, How to Lose Everything delves into the heart of loss. Couture bears witness to the shift in perspective that comes with loss, and how it can deepen compassion for others, expand understanding, inspire a letting go of little things and plant a deeper feeling for what matters. At the same time, Couture’s writing evokes the joy and lightness that both precede and eventually follow grief, as well as the hope and resilience that grow from connections with others.”

Buy How to Lose Everything on Amazon.

Poster Child by Emily Rapp

Heartbreakingly vivid, raw and relatable, this memoir digs into the emotions we’d rather keep hidden, explores the parts of ourselves that are uncomfortable, and teaches that disability is only one part of who we are–and there’s so much more that defines a person and who they become.

“Emily Rapp was born with a congenital defect that required, at the age of four, that her left foot be amputated. By the time she was eight she’d had dozens of operations, had lost most of her leg, from just above the knee, and had become the smiling, indefatigable “poster child” for the March of Dimes. For years she made appearances at church suppers and rodeos, giving pep talks about how normal and happy she was. All the while she was learning to live with what she later described as “my grievous, irrevocable flaw,” and the paradox that being extraordinary was the only way to be ordinary.”

Buy Poster Child on Amazon.

Sitting Pretty by Rebekah Taussig

I will confess: I haven’t finished this book. Though I’m well on my way, I can only read for about 10 minutes before I have to put it aside for days to digest what Rebekah has written. It touches parts of me that I didn’t know were there, challenges subconscious beliefs I held about myself, and offers, in personal and theoretical terms, a way to understand the world around me and find my place in it.

“Growing up as a paralyzed girl during the 90s and early 2000s, Rebekah Taussig only saw disability depicted as something monstrous (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), inspirational (Helen Keller), or angelic (Forrest Gump). None of this felt right; and as she got older, she longed for more stories that allowed disability to be complex and ordinary, uncomfortable and fine, painful and fulfilling.

Writing about the rhythms and textures of what it means to live in a body that doesn’t fit, Rebekah reflects on everything from the complications of kindness and charity, living both independently and dependently, experiencing intimacy, and how the pervasiveness of ableism in our everyday media directly translates to everyday life.”

Buy Sitting Pretty on Amazon.

Forward, Shakespeare by Jean Little

Jean Little had an uncanny ability to take disability and create something universally relatable in her books. Forward, Shakespeare, and its prequel, Rescue Pup, are no exception. Alongside learning about how guide dogs are trained to guide the blind, you’ll fall in love with Shakespeare and learn about how letting someone love you is the first step in learning to love and accept yourself for who you are.

“Seeing-eye pup, Shakespeare, conquered many fears in Rescue Pup. Now he is back, about to be matched up with a blind boy, ready to begin his working life. Tim is enraged by his blindness and wants nothing to do with a guide dog. But he is no match for Shakespeare.”

Buy Forward, Shakespeare on Amazon.

It’s Not What It Looks Like by Molly Burke

I have been a fan of Molly’s Youtube channel for years now, and her audiobook, It’s Not What It Looks Like, did not disappoint.

Molly and I are both blind, but our experiences and perspectives are sometimes poles apart. Our disabilities have shaped us in different ways, but that’s what makes this such a wonderful read. In her book, I saw myself clearly in her words and depictions of living as a blind woman, but I also learned a new way of perceiving blindness and how we can all appreciate the diversity of disability and a person’s individual journey.

“Close your eyes and get ready to see the world in a new and more positive way. As a child in Toronto, Molly Burke was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa and became completely sightless as a teenager. Now an award-winning YouTube star and global influencer, Molly shares what it’s like to be a purple-haired, pink-obsessed fashion and makeup lover in a seeing world. She speaks with authenticity and candor about how she tackles the preconceived notions we have around blindness; Molly has made it her mission to make us see her – and ourselves- in a wholly empowering way. Learn about her struggles with bullying and anxiety, her quest for inclusivity, how she built a successful influencer business (with more than 1.8 million followers), and what it’s really like to travel with the true star of this audio, her service dog, Gallop.”

Buy It’s Not What It Looks Like on Amazon.

What were your favourite books of 2022? Let me know in the comments!

ON LOSING ACCESSIBILITY — YOUR CONVENIENCE IS NOT AN OPTION FOR DISABLED PEOPLE

I was half-asleep yesterday afternoon when a notification popped up on my phone. I swiped it away, only absorbing which app it was referring to, and promised myself I’d look later. It couldn’t be that important. Right?

But it was.

It was a notification from Microsoft Soundscape. This app is on my essentials list because I find it invaluable for helping me navigate the streets while out walking. In short, this app speaks out your surroundings in real time: for example, as I walk down the street, it will announce “X Street continues ahead. Y Street goes left.” It is a big help to keep me oriented, particularly in new areas that I’m not as familiar with. I’ve used Soundscape for years now, but that relationship is ending.

According to this article from their research blog, the app is being discontinued as of January 3, 2023. It will not be available for download, but existing installations can be used until June 2023. The software is being converted to open-source, so any developer can use the software as they wish.

Apart from the technicalities that I don’t fully understand, I do know one thing: I will no longer be able to use Microsoft Soundscape.

And that fills me with so much anxiety, and oh friends, I wish I could articulate it so that you can understand and feel what I feel right now.

Soundscape isn’t just an app. It’s part of my accessibility, my freedom, and my independence. I feel more confident walking the streets alone when I have Soundscape to rely on in the sticky moments. I’ve gotten turned around and couldn’t tell which direction I was going, but I pulled out Soundscape and with its features that can read my surroundings, I got back on track, no problem. Even now, I am still learning the nuances of the routes in my new town, and I use Soundscape on every trip out of the house.

And now, there’s the added factor of finding another app that is equally as accessible, free [because many disabled people can’t afford to pay for apps like these] and accurate. And as much as I wish, it’s not as simple as scrolling through the App Store. I’ve spent far too many hours, yes hours, sifting through various apps, trying to ascertain which ones were accessible and discarding the ones that weren’t. It took me no fewer than 30 different apps before I found an app I liked for curating my music playlists, and I’ve downloaded the same amount in hopes of finding a menstruation tracker [and I have yet to find one].

I’m sure there are other apps. I know of a few that may offer the same info as Soundscape that I will take a closer look at. But what amazes me more than the sadness at losing something I glean such value and freedom from, is Microsoft’s admission of that value and their unwillingness to continue it.

In their statement, it reads: “Through the Microsoft Soundscape journey, we were delighted to discover the many valuable experiences Soundscape enabled, from empowering mobility instructors, to understanding the role of audio in adaptive sports, to supporting blind or low-vision individuals to go places and do essential activities for their lives.”

This, my friends, is the heart of the matter. Too often, organizations and individuals recognize the benefit of accessibility for disabled people, but when push comes to shove, they aren’t willing to commit to accessibility. Too frequently, it’s because of money. Accessibility doesn’t “sell.” But that shouldn’t mean it can be tossed to the wayside.

Microsoft recognizes the value that Soundscape has added to peoples’ lives. But it’s not enough for them to continue offering that value and benefit to the disabled community. Yes, they are making the software open-source, but that doesn’t comfort me much–that requires a new company or person taking on the project which isn’t guaranteed [along with the myriad of other considerations which I will not detail here].

But it’s not enough. WE are not enough.

So… what is?

When I first read Microsoft’s explanation for discontinuing Soundscape, I felt it like a punch to my gut. It wasn’t about losing an app. It was, and is, about losing accessibility. In a world where so many live as though accessibility is optional, and is sometimes impossible to come by, it is most definitely a gut punch to know that a weapon in my arsenal to stay independent and confident is being taken from me.

If you have any suggestions for accessible apps to use for directions while walking, please let me know down below! Otherwise, I’ll let you know how many downloads it takes until I find one.

WHEN CHRISTMAS WAS SIGHTED — SIX HOLIDAY MEMORIES FROM THE TIME BEFORE I WAS BLIND

As Christmas approaches and the world descends into a frenzy of holiday activity, I take a walk down memory lane, and reflect on the six Christmasses with my family before I became blind. I don’t remember many of them as I was so young, but there are bits and pieces that I recall which form the fondest of memories and the warmest of feelings. And I want to share them with you.

Here are six special childhood memories that I will always hold close to my heart and take with me as I celebrate this and many more Christmas seasons to come.

I. Frosty in Footprints

One winter while my grandparents were visiting, Grandpa and I were playing in the backyard, when Grandpa said “follow me.” He began walking in odd patterns, shuffling his feet in the snow. I followed where he put his feet, and was entirely confused. After he was finished, we went inside and he lead me to the kitchen window which overlooked the backyard. There, in the snow, was the word “Frosty” which had been written out by our footprints.

II. The Snow Mountain

Every year, our side yard became home to the snow mountain. When the handyman came around with his bobcat, he shoveled the snow into a hill and carved out small steps in the side. And every year, my siblings and I spent hours running up the snow mountain and sliding down just as fast as we could!

III. Home from the Hospital… Just in Time

I was fortunate that, for the first year I was battling my cancer, I was able to spend Christmas at home with my family. But it was a close call. I was released on Christmas Eve, and when I walked in the front door, my entire family was waiting for me–my grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and cousins on my mom’s side were there! It was so sweet, being surrounded by family for the holidays. I remember some, but I’m sure not all, of the mischief me and my cousins got into, and as the youngest cousin, I’m sure I got out of all the trouble, too.

IV. The Christmas Eve Tradition

For most people I know, Christmas morning is the pinnacle of the holidays. It’s when stockings are opened along with the presents piled up beneath the tree. For me, it’s opposite: Christmas Eve was the night I awaited with such excitement, and continues to since I’ve brought its tradition into my adulthood.

My family attended the Christmas Eve service at church where we would sing carols, read the story of Jesus’ birth and light candles. Once home, we’d change into pajamas and open every present… almost. Except for our stockings and the gift from Mom and Dad, every other present was torn open and squealed over. Then came the movie, which as tradition dictated, was the classic, Miracle on 34th Street. To this day, I have most of that movie memorized!

V. Into the Wilderness!

The first Saturday of December was the most exciting day–it’s when we got bundled up and headed out into the woods to cut down a Christmas tree! My memories are made up of trudging through the snow, picking out the perfect tree, Dad cutting it down with a saw and dragging it back to the car, and me, exhausted from the day’s events, insisting on being pulled home on the sled. On Sunday after church, we’d decorate it, and my favourite ornaments to hang were always the musical instruments.

VI. The Reindeer

Dad was a forester for 30 years, and as a gift from a coworker one year, he received a uniquely “foresty” gift–a reindeer made of tree trunks and branches! It has survived many a move and still stands proud, albeit a bit wobbly, in my parents’ living room.

Christmas, both when I was sighted and now that I am blind, holds a special place in my heart. There are parts of the season I wish I could see still, but I’ve gained a new appreciation for the holiday as a blind woman. After all, it’s still a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, and that is something I can celebrate with or without sight.

What do you remember about Christmas and the holiday season when you were a child? Let me know in the comments.

THERE IS NO MEANING IN DISABILITY PRIDE WITHOUT GOD

My first braille Bible came a few volumes at a time. In the first box was the Gospel of Matthew and Acts of the Apostles, two books in the New Testament. I was ecstatic. And as they came box by box, my Bible filled up my bookshelf and at seven years old, I could read the Word of God for myself for the first time.

It was so exciting, being able to read the Bible like my family and friends at church. I took it to Sunday School with me and was able to participate in Sword drills and follow along with the passage during the sermon. I kept a volume next to my bed, and half the shelf in my bedroom was taken up with the 37-volume Bible from Lutheran Braille Workers.

In my early twenties, I decided it was time for a new Bible, one with crisp braille dots and edges that didn’t have permanent curves from leaning against the wall by my bed. I opted for a 20-volume, hardcover Bible in the New King James Version [NKJV]. It now sits on my bookshelf, taking four cubbies to hold it all. It’s made the trek with me from my home two cities and four houses ago. It still takes up most of the bookshelf, and I still keep a volume by my bed.

It’s been with me for as long as I can remember, and so has God.

But my relationship with my braille Bible is easier to define than my relationship with God. There was a beginning, a conscious decision to open the pages and glide my fingers over the sweet dots that spelled out the story of God’s love for me. But growing up in a Christian home meant that God was in my life while I was still in the womb, and before I could say the name of God, He was a significant part of my existence. There’s never been life for me without Him. No beginning, no divide between when I knew Him and when I didn’t. Along the way, there have been landmarks in our relationship, like my baptism at 14 and my decision to attend Bible college after high school.

Receiving my braille Bibles have been landmark moments in my faith journey, too, but it’s not only because of being given the ability to read God’s Word for myself. It’s because the Bible was in braille, and for the first time, my identities as a disabled woman and a Christian came together in a real, tangible way.

The immense pride I have in my identity as a disabled woman only has meaning when taken with my pride in being a follower of Jesus Christ. I never believed they could coexist before, but not only can they, it makes my life overflow with beauty and meaning in both.

My disability is beautiful because I know that God created me this way and takes joy in me.
My faith is bolstered because of what I have endured as a disabled woman and every trial I face points back to God.

As simplistic as it may sound, the Bible sitting on my bookshelf now and the one in my childhood bedroom is how I know this is true. In one book, my disability and my God come together. It’s the only way to have full and complete meaning in both my disabled identity and my Christian identity. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My disability brings me closer to God, and God brings me pride in my disability.

You all know that I’m very vocal about my disability pride and a bit less so about my Christian pride. My faith journey is a very private one, and I keep it behind a curtain for only me and God to see. But every time I write about disability equality, accessibility, rights and ways to become allies of the disabled community, it stems from my love for the God who made me disabled, and beautifully so. There’s no meaning in it if God isn’t the maker and the center, and I’m thankful that He is, and will always be, there.

How does your faith impact your relationship with your disability, and vice versa? Let me know in the comments.