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. 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.
Ableism in its simplest form, is discrimination toward disabled people. But it encompasses so much more than what you might assume.
People are curious about what they don’t know. I get it. I’m curious to know what a wooly mammoth feels like, and how people can read my emotions so accurately just by the way I move my face. [How does one raised eyebrow say so much?]
I’m somewhere between four and six years old–no longer sighted but not quite blind–when I’m bullied for the first time. And though the details are lost to memory, the belittlement and fear has never left my body. And I know it never will.
It’s always puzzled me, when watching interviews with artists and musicians who’ve made it big in the industry, that almost without fail, the interviewer asks a question along the lines of, “What would you do if you hadn’t pursued music?”
Growing up around the Thanksgiving dinner table, when asked what I was thankful for this year, my disability was never on the list.
I’m so excited to have my dear friend and fellow disability blogger, Anneliese, once more grace my blog with her wonderful, wordly presence. Anneliese is many things–many wonderful, wonderful things–but today, she brings her experience and wisdom as a two-time guide dog handler to the blog.
My high school history teacher said there would come a time that I’d need to understand politics. And although I know bits and pieces of governmental bodies and systems, I can’t participate in dinner table discussions or understand news articles in a way I always hoped to. I want to learn more.