If you’ve been following my Twitter, you might have seen me mention being a disability advocate. You might be wondering, “Where’s the advocacy?” Well, it’s right here. Not many people see my posts, but this is something I need to say. Even if it doesn’t resonate now, I hope it will in time. This is personal—but I need to share my perspective.
I didn’t want to make this about One Direction, but this is my life—One Direction is my life. So, keep trucking along or get used to it.
A Complex Sadness
Lately, I’ve felt like I’m happy but sad at the same time. It’s a strange feeling like I have everything yet nothing. I want to meet my idols before I grow old, before my chronic illness catches up to me before I’m six feet under. Why am I sad? I think it’s for my inner child. She had nothing—no concerts, no carefree dreams—but she did have One Direction. They made her happy.
One Direction wasn’t One Direction without Louis, Zayn, Harry, Liam, and Niall. Now, without Liam... I’m sad. They gave us a teenage dream but at the expense of their well-being. I never wanted that for them, but I’m grateful for what they gave us.
Growing Up Disabled
Growing up, my world revolved around hospitals and the search for a diagnosis. Now that I have one, I realize I’m still sad. My world wasn’t filled with concerts or teenage milestones—just silence and suffering.
I’ve spent my life trying to prove myself—not just to others, but to myself. Disabled people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I’m one of them. But I’m also the most disabled yet able person anyone has ever met. In high school, I was tested for special education, and the evaluator told me, “You don’t need to be in there.” I felt proud.
Yet later, I found out people thought I was faking my disability. They didn’t see the constant uphill battle I faced. After high school, I had nothing for four years. Independence came slowly, but I still felt lost.
Proving My Worth
Then I went back to school. I wanted to prove to myself and others that I wasn’t wasting my potential. I worked hard, pushing beyond my limits. I joined college in August, and five months later, I was accepted into my prestigious NSCS college chapter and offered the role of secretary. I couldn’t believe it.
My GPA was solid at 3.9, but by the end of the semester, it dropped to 3.64. I didn’t give up. I pushed it back up to 3.7, even while working on a business proposal for someone in the entertainment industry. Then, it dropped again to 3.61.
To gain recognition as an author, I used to post short stories on Twitter every month. All these blessings are great, but this weight I’m carrying is heavy. I’m doing it all to prove that disabled people are capable of so much more than society often thinks.
That’s the reality: everything I’ve earned can feel like it’s slipping through my fingers, out of my control. What I really want is for someone to look at me and say, “I’m proud of you… but you don’t have to do any of this. I see you for who you are."
We Deserve Better
I’m tired of trying to keep up with able-bodied people to prove my worth. Disabled people deserve to be seen as worthy—without the need to constantly validate our existence. We deserve a world that includes us, respects us, and that is designed for us.
This isn’t just about ramps or elevators, though those are vital. It’s about homes that are truly accessible. We need bathroom handles built-in, not just added later. We need kitchens, living rooms, and bedrooms designed for our needs from the start—not as an afterthought.
And yet, even these basic accommodations are made so expensive, they’re out of reach for many. Why? Because some people don’t respect the struggle they don’t understand.
The Misconception
In society, there's a common misconception that disability accommodations are “free” or come without significant effort, or you get loads of attention, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Frankly, the attention doesn’t always come from the right place, and it annoys me at times: what you can do, I can do; just not like you.
Walking out of my house without my wheelchair drains me at times. The feeling I get in my stomach just by knowing if I make one misstep, I get stared at. Being disabled isn’t as easy as you think it is. It’s not as easy as living with something that changes your life forever, but it’s a good deal because at least you get free items.
While some may view it as simply receiving handouts, the reality is that disabled individuals face many hidden costs—financial, emotional, and physical—while navigating a world that isn’t always designed with our needs in mind.
These accommodations often come with a sacrifice: the need to fight for recognition, the barriers of an inaccessible environment, and the struggle to make others see beyond the assumption of “free stuff.”
This misunderstanding only reinforces the stigma surrounding disability and makes it harder for the community to receive the support and respect they deserve.
By raising awareness and breaking down these misconceptions, we can foster a more inclusive, empathetic world where everyone’s needs are met—not just with charity, but with understanding and real, thoughtful solutions.
Uncomfortable Truths
One of the biggest hurdles disabled people face isn’t just physical barriers—it’s the social discomfort that arises when we ask for help. There’s an unspoken stereotype attached to needing assistance, as if it somehow makes us "less than" or overly dependent.
Let me share a personal story. I once had a friend (thankfully, we’re no longer close) who I hung out with occasionally. One evening, we went out to eat, and after our meal, I had some leftovers. Because I have a nervous system disorder that causes me to shake, I asked her for help. What I received instead was a glare full of attitude.
She accused me of being “dependent,” “trying to use her,” and—my personal favorite—“manipulative.” Yes, manipulative. All for asking for a simple bit of assistance with something I physically couldn’t do myself.
This is the kind of experience that many disabled people face when asking for help.
The discomfort others feel often gets projected back onto us as accusations, judgments, or outright rejection. But here’s the thing: needing help isn’t weakness. It’s a reality.
Breaking the Stigma
Asking for help doesn’t mean we’re incapable, lazy, or manipulative. It means we’re human. Society needs to address this discomfort and recognize that supporting one another—disabled or not—is a fundamental part of being a community. Instead of labeling us, listen to us. Instead of making assumptions, ask how you can help.
The Cruel Reality of Bias
One of the most upsetting things I’ve heard from others in the disabled community is how often they’re ghosted after revealing their disability. Imagine putting yourself out there, hoping for connection, only to have someone disappear the moment they learn something deeply personal about you.
It’s gross, to be honest. This behavior reinforces the stigma we fight every day, sending the message that our disabilities make us unworthy of love, friendship, or even basic respect.
Here’s the truth: disability doesn’t define a person’s worth. It doesn’t make them less deserving of kindness, understanding, or connection. Ghosting someone because they’re disabled isn’t just cowardly—it’s discriminatory.
Looking Into The Mirror
I have to admit, I’ve contributed to this problem, too. When I was 18, I still had the mindset of an able-bodied person, despite being diagnosed with a disability at 17. Back then, I rejected someone in my community because I thought they were “disgusting.” I’m not proud of it.
Looking back, I realize how deeply ingrained societal biases against disabled people can be—even within our own community. That rejection wasn’t about them; it was about my own ignorance and discomfort. But I’ve grown since then, and I now see how far that mindset is from the truth.
Challenging The Norms
We need to change how society views disability. It starts with education, empathy, and challenging our own biases—whether they come from others or ourselves. Disabled people shouldn’t have to hide a part of themselves to avoid rejection. We deserve a world where we’re seen for who we are, not dismissed for what we can’t control.
It’s not enough to demand change from others; we also have to hold ourselves accountable. Growth is uncomfortable, but it’s necessary. Together, we can build a society that values everyone’s humanity, no matter their abilities.
To Able-Bodied People
Educate yourselves. Stop being judgmental. Disabled people aren’t asking for pity or charity—we’re asking for respect. Disabled people can be genuinely good people, while others can be not so much. If you know a disabled person and they have a good heart, if they ask for help, just do it, it will help us not feel so ashamed.
Please be patient with us, but don’t treat us like we’re helpless. We might need help—or not. There’s many disabilities—some you can see while others you can’t see so much. That’s why we need patience. Some say, you never know what a person’s going through, so be kind, but even if you do know what someone is going through still be kind.
Finally, design the world better. Stop creating public spaces that claim to be accessible but don’t follow through. Movie theaters, restaurants, homes, schools—these should work for all of humanity. Don’t just “make do” with minimal accommodations. Build spaces where disabled people can thrive and function happily.
A Message To My Disabled Community
You are enough. You are worthy. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.
And to the world at large: Respect us. See us. Build a better world for us—not out of pity, but because we are a significant part of it.
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