Disability advocacy

I’ve been thinking about disability advocacy lately, which is an unfortunately necessary calling. I’ll admit my own advocacy style sometimes looks less like a polished campaign and more like a toddler trying to carry too many juice boxes at once. I care deeply, I really do, but I also have a knack for tripping over my own metaphors and accidentally giving a whole lecture on accessibility when someone simply asked where the bathroom was. Still, I keep showing up, because the alternative is pretending the world doesn’t need changing, and my nervous system refuses to let me get away with that kind of cynicism. At least in this area.

What I’ve learned is that advocacy isn’t about having the perfect script; it’s about being willing to say, “Hey, this ramp is missing,” even if you say it distracted while looking for the bandaid you know you had on while cooking the food you’re now delivering. It’s about noticing the small injustices and naming them with tenderness, humor, and the occasional awkward pause. And, honestly, if my slightly uneven presence helps someone feel less alone in the messiness of navigating access needs, then I’ll happily keep stumbling forward. After all, progress rarely looks graceful. More often, it looks like a community of people laughing together while we collectively try to fix a door that should’ve opened easily in the first place.