https://goo.gl/e7zf3u
No one knows how to approach it, especially since I do not use a wheelchair, hearing aid, or any other signifier that communicates my Otherness. But as I have evolved throughout my collegiate experience, I’ve realized just how much my disabled body has shaped that experience: specifically, I’ve observed just how others see, think about, and react to me being in space, which has led me to the sad realization that my body will always be a barrier. It is a barrier for colleagues, for friends, for students and professors — populations who often seek to remedy disability by way of technology, rather than personal inquiry or relationship building.
What these statements show is that just because someone is educated or has known you for a long period of time, it doesn’t mean they even begin to understand you. Moreover, what these statements demonstrate is not only ignorance, but a critical lack of willingness to understand, to empathize. I don’t want people to “feel sorry” for me, but rather to holistically and analytically consider my position as a PWD: my body doesn’t have to be a barrier. My body—like the bodies and minds of other marginalized groups—could be a bridge like the one from the Harry Potter set, a way to learn about the issues people with disabilities face from someone who is disabled. But there are not attempts to learn our stories, to treat us like people.