On The Day the ADA was Passed

It’s the 22^nd Anniversary of The Americans with Disabilities Act. That is pretty exciting stuff! This means that there is an entire group of adults who have enjoyed its many benefits for their entire lives. In comparison to a lot of other important civil rights movements, the movement to give equal opportunity to those of us with so-called special needs is pretty young.  This isn’t surprising only 0.62% of Americans live with Physical disabilities for the majority of their existence—and it is sometimes more difficult for those with multiple challenges to advocate for themselves. I am so glad somebody finally paid attention! I am from a beautiful country.  No other nations have the types of laws that the US does, and it’s 2012. Hopefully that will change soon.

I have read many blogs celebrating the ADA in their own  way today. I have Cerebral Palsy and my friend Melissa will tell you, we’re all connected. :) I knew I wanted to make a statement, but I could not decide what statement to make. That last sentence should shock nobody; I am the world’s least decisive dweller. Well, I didn’t make a decision. I am going to attempt to make three statements in one post.      One should always be true to their character, right?

I want to copy Melissa in making a statement about the individuals in my life. Don’t worry, I have been copying her for more than a decade, she likes it now.

I come from the best group of people I know. My family is very strong, very accepting, very funny, very loving,   and very independent.  Being somebody who needed extra help in my family wasn’t always easy. I often felt awkward, mainly because of my own insecurities, I am sure. It took me a long time to realize that my family didn’t think anything horrible about me. They only criticized me because they were worried about my ability to succeed. And, they should have been, for a long time I was failing. Whether or not that had anything to do with my CP, at this point is anybody’s guess.  So for those of you out there who feel like the people who should be the most understanding are the least understanding: I know that when life is already unfair, because of nothing you chose, you want want loved ones to coddle you, just occasionally. However, it’s your family’s job to ensure that you can contribute to society, and most of them do that in any way they know how, because they love you. Most of the things that were hurtful to me when I was younger, I find hilarious or helpful now.  The ADA is a great law, but it can’t do everything for you, and it won’t.

For every person in your life who kicks your ass into gear though, you need someone who is willing to cut you some slack. And for that, you go to camp.  Seriously! I wish everybody with a disability had the privilege to spend one week a year at Indian Trails Camp like I did for seven years. ITC is a camp in Grand Rapids, MI, for adults and children who are disabled.  It. Was. AWESOME.  Everybody moved slowly and nobody cared. Boys were interested in you because they could not walk either, and you could participate in sports without in being pointless.  I met some of my favorite people there including the counselors, who all seemed to effortlessly ignore our mobility-aids.  I hope that in the near future places like ITC become affordable for everybody. That would be wonderful, even more wonderful than camp.

I cannot tell you how rare it is for someone to effortlessly ignore a mobility-aid. Most notice and focus it immediately. I do not blame them. That’s why so many of my friends amaze me.

My friend Michelle was the first person who ever admittedly forgot about my CP. I was whining about “being different” and she stop me mid-story and said, “….How are  you different?” Michelle and I are like sisters, we fight and make-up, but none of it ever had to do with the way I walked. She never thought about it.   

Michelle and my other friend Candace,  are probably the most accepting people I know. Candace and I lived together for two years and she was constantly forgetting I was disabled. In fact, there is a pretty funny story about someone reminding her of my disability and her almost losing it. Candace has always thought of me as equal to everybody around her. She and I took care of each other as roommates, but I never felt like she was stressed out by taking care of me. I think seeing people for who they are must be genetic, after years of friendship, I attended a Halloween party with Candace’s family. Not one person even inquired about my disability. It may have been because she had talked about me previously, but I was still pleasantly flabbergasted. That had never happened before. I have been around them a few times I still haven’t been asked about my disability I don’t think they care. It’s fantastic.

 Candace’s family party was the second time I had felt that way. I remember my freshmen year of college, I asked my friend, Annie, to zip up the back of whatever I was wearing.   She looked at me and said “Well, come over here.” I was on her couch and my walker was across the room. We both laughed. The entire group of kids Annie I hung out with freshmen year, treated me the same way. It was the first time a circle of friends had accepted me collectively, and I’ll never forget it.

Lots of my favorite memories at college include, Alex and Sam —two more of my former roommates. I remember being so nervous, after living with them for just a short while to ask, Alex to help me out of a closet I somehow got stuck in. She shouldn’t have had to do that. Alex burst out laughing, and become a running joke, not because of who I am, but because of who she is. Sam is the same way. We went to a house party once, and even in my drunken stupor, I was afraid we wouldn’t be friends with me the next day. The poor girl had to help me in, help me out, and help to  the upstairs bathroom all well I was obnoxiously apologizing her over and over. The only thing she mentioned the next day  was that she had to break into our apartment because she was afraid I was assaulted by a boy I had made-out with at the party.   Again the strength is Sam’s, not mine.  

The friends I have discussed in the preceding paragraphs, probably would call me silly for writing all this down. They think of me as an ordinary woman.  The fact that the Americans with Disabilities act is only 22, however, proves that their thought process is novel, and they should be proud.

How’d you like that tie in? I majored in English!

Reflecting on my family, my friends and my opportunities, sure makes me feel fortunate.  Being born in a time in which the ADA is in place to make even bigger dreams possible make you and me even more blessed. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!