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<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Kelly](\"https:\/\/cupofjo.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/03\/kelly-dawson-writer.jpeg\")
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I have a face that is, for better or worse, approachable. In college, a friend mentioned that before we met, she\u2019d see me around campus and think, \u201cThere goes that girl who smiles a lot.\u201d Okay, yes, I smile a lot. I sometimes smile when I\u2019m uncomfortable; I\u2019ve been known to laugh when I\u2019m sad. But, inevitably, this unflappable approachability of mine tends to lead to this type of interaction:<\/p>\n
Stranger: Hi\u2026um\u2026
Me: Hi!
Stranger: No offense, but can I ask you a question?<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t get offended too easily as a mixed-race, disabled woman. If I did, I\u2019d have a hard time leaving my home. But then I do leave my home and strangers feel comfortable talking to me as if we\u2019ve already gone out for ice cream. I usually know what they\u2019re wanting to ask.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a version of, \u201cWhat\u2019s going on with you?\u201d (Insert hand gestures waving from the waist down.)<\/p>\n
Strangers want me to disclose something about my disability, to share why my legs bend inward when I walk. I wish I could ask some random fellow why he chose to go with a mustache rather than a full beard on his facial hair journey, but I try not to let my curiosity get the best of me. I know what it\u2019s like to have cerebral palsy and want to keep that fact to myself. Yet at the same time, I understand this compulsion completely. For generations, disability was seen as something to shroud, a detail to deliberately deplete of complexity. And then a non-disabled person sees someone who looks nice and walks strange and thinks, \u201cOkay, well, if I can\u2019t ask her, then who can I ask?\u201d <\/p>\n
I called on a few friends to share the questions that they\u2019ve wondered as we\u2019ve gotten closer, or questions non-disabled people may want to know in general, to provide more context around a disabled life. Here are their questions and my answers.<\/p>\n
What would you like to change about depictions of disability in the media? Are there any that stand out to you (either good or bad)?<\/strong><\/p>\n In the media, disability is often associated with sadness, despair, and death, but daily life is rarely that intense. I would totally go see a Wedding Planner<\/em>-style rom-com where a disabled woman\u2019s cane gets caught in a manhole cover and Matthew McConaughey comes to yank it out. I would be into an Ocean\u2019s 11<\/em>-style blockbuster where a wheelchair-using maverick figures out how to get into a highly-guarded building, which wouldn\u2019t be that much of a stretch. But I also wouldn\u2019t mind a dialogue-driven film between friends who are navigating some sense of yearning while getting dinner together in the middle of the week. Disabled people have friends, feelings, and witty one-liners to share, too. <\/p>\n There\u2019s a movie that won the Best Picture Oscar way back in 1946 called The Best Years of Our Lives<\/a><\/em>, and I love it so much. Not only is it a great story about three WWII veterans who return home \u2014 and I promise, the humor and heart still land \u2014 but the film features an actual disabled veteran, Harold Russell, playing the true-to-life role of losing his hands after enlisting. (Fun fact: He\u2019s the only actor to ever win two Oscars for the same role.) There\u2019s a scene where Russell\u2019s character shows his girlfriend what he needs to do in order to get ready for bed, thinking she\u2019ll run for the hills if she knows how vulnerable he is behind closed doors. Watching their mutual response to his honesty makes me cry every time \u2014 it\u2019s just incredibly warm and realistic. <\/p>\n What are the best ways for people in your life to support you, either emotionally or literally?<\/strong><\/p>\n This depends on each individual person, of course, and the relationship they have with their body. I really appreciate it when friends and family lock my arm in theirs as we walk, for example, because then I don\u2019t have to pay as much attention to what\u2019s in my path and can focus more on our conversation. Emotionally, my loved ones believe me when I say that something is hard for me, when it may not be hard for them. Also, they don\u2019t always try to fix the issue \u2014 usually I only want someone else to say, \u201cYep, that sucks,\u201d and I\u2019ll feel better. It\u2019s too bad that no one in this inner circle is, like, a city planner or a lawmaker, but who knows what the future holds.<\/p>\n If you want to be an ally, take things slowly. Get to know a disabled person for all the things they are: the food they crave and their celebrity crush; the show they can watch on repeat and the outfit they feel confident in. The intricacies of their disability are at the center of their world, but it\u2019s usually locked away because there are too many people who say \u201cew\u201d and \u201cso what\u201d or \u201cyou\u2019re lying\u201d when these differences are made clear. This kind of pushback can be found everywhere, from questions at elementary-school recess and college dorm room small talk, to doctor\u2019s office checkups and job interviews, to brunch chatter and social media comments. Ableism can be so pervasive and accepted in our culture that too often the pang of exclusion only registers to a disabled person and the allies who know better.<\/p>\n In budding friendships and romantic relationships, I do have to say early on what I need to be comfortable physically, so sometimes support comes as a crash course. But sustained support is the gift both parties get from sticking around, which is true of any relationship. Let the disabled person lead your education, and if you need clarity, ask with care. \u201cHow can I help you do what you\u2019re already doing?\u201d you might ask. Or, \u201cI saw that you made a face when she said that. Would you mind sharing why?\u201d Remember, too, that you\u2019re not owed explanations on your timeline.<\/p>\n How can I make my disabled friends feel welcome if my home has unchangeable inaccessibility formats? For example, my apartment has two steps at the front door, and the bathroom is too small for a wheelchair. Do I have to ask my friends to host every time, or can I \u201chost\u201d from their home? I don\u2019t want my disabled friends to feel left out or obligated to have me over. What should I do?<\/strong><\/p>\n I absolutely understand this hesitation, because I put my game face on, along with my lipstick, whenever I\u2019m heading over to a home I\u2019ve never been to before. If this is someone you just met, give them a quick lay of the land over text: \u201cHey, I\u2019m so excited to invite you to my party! I have two steps leading into my apartment and a narrow door to the bathroom. Please let me know how I can make my home more accommodating for you!\u201d<\/p>\n Always send an invite to the disabled guest, even if you\u2019re not sure if they can maneuver through your home, because no one likes to feel left out. They can make the decision based on the information you provided. Hosting is also their call, but I like the idea of meeting up at a park that has benches or a restaurant that has parking, if that\u2019s easiest.<\/p>\n What kind of Airbnb or hotel features should friends look for if they\u2019re in charge of picking or suggesting accommodations?<\/strong><\/p>\n Years ago, a friend was in charge of finding our Airbnb. She screenshotted two options, one with a shower-tub combo and one with a walk-in shower and asked, \u201cIs that tub\u2019s height too high?\u201d Oh, to be seen! (We went with the walk-in shower.) That friend had known me for more than a decade, so she had a strong sense of what would make an Airbnb accessible to me.<\/p>\n Funny enough, \u201caccessible\u201d can be a hit-or-miss label as far as the hospitality industry goes. You may get a ledge-less shower, but you could also get a bed that\u2019s too close to the floor, which makes it tough to get up from. I\u2019d ask your friend for a checklist of \u201cabsolutely\u201d and \u201cabsolutely nots,\u201d without getting too far into the weeds. For example, a friend might request to absolutely stay in a place that has neutral colors and nix anything that\u2019s too visually stimulating.<\/p>\n If it feels too awkward to ask your disabled friend for a pro-con list, then do what my friend did by sending screenshots as a starting point for whether you\u2019re on the right track. They\u2019ll know you\u2019re trying your best!<\/p>\n What do you wish people would or wouldn\u2019t do in your presence?<\/strong><\/p>\n This is a tough one! I think it\u2019s human nature to acknowledge an anomaly when you see one, so I have a hard time faulting people for staring at me \u2014 at least when it comes to that initial recognition. But I wish that adults wouldn\u2019t hold their gaze on me for longer than a few seconds, or feel compelled to comment on my appearance as much as they do. Kids, on the other hand, get a free pass. Who am I to shrink their inquisitiveness about the world around them?<\/p>\n The experience of getting stared at has become such a normal part of my comings and goings that I\u2019ve long accepted it as routine. But I also wonder, \u201cWhat would it be like to disappear into a crowd?\u201d It\u2019s a question I\u2019ve daydreamed about since I was a kid, and one I know many other disabled people ask themselves. It\u2019s not easy getting consistently singled out, even as an extrovert, even on a good day. There\u2019s something to be said about the privacy inherent to being non-disabled, and the boring quality of fitting in. It seems so quiet.<\/p>\n Essentially, I wish strangers could eventually see me as more boring \u2014 more human \u2014 although I\u2019ll probably always be approachable. Feel free to ignore me as I shop and walk, please. I won\u2019t be offended.<\/p>\n Kelly Dawson<\/a> is a writer, editor, and marketing consultant based in Los Angeles. She\u2019s written about how to invite a disabled friend over<\/a> and why NYC is inaccessible<\/a>, among other posts, for Cup of Jo. Follow her on Instagram<\/a>, if you\u2019d like. <\/em><\/p>\n P.S. Getting diagnosed with autism as an adult<\/a>, and what\u2019s disabled motherhood like<\/a>?<\/p>\n (Photo of Kelly Dawson<\/a>.)<\/p>\n