This is an article I have thought about for a long time. At first, I didn’t know how to find the words; then, I was worried about whether it was the right time. Finally, I realized that the only person holding me back from speaking my truth was me. Today, I am choosing to break my silence:
I am more than my disability. I’m also a huge bitch.
When people look at me, I don’t want them to see only my disability. I want them to see the totality of who I am — a delulu mega-bitch with a piss-poor attitude and the moral compass of a subway rat. When I don’t answer your texts for days on end, it’s not because managing a disability in a society that isn’t built for me can lead to self-isolation, fatigue and intense burnout; it’s because I think you’re a bad friend and I secretly hate you. If I ask for accommodations at work or in some aspect of my personal life, I seriously want to waste as much of everyone’s time as I possibly can because I’m a messy bitch who loves to create problems. I’m tired of pretending otherwise, and I am speaking out to let the world know that all you motherfuckers can stop “giving me grace” and start giving me what I really want: drama.
My disability does not define me. I am the only person who gets to decide what defines me, and I’m choosing my consistently rude and inconsiderate behavior.
Disabled people deserve to be respected for the multidimensional, complex humans that we are. In many ways, we’re just like you: We laugh, we cry … and some of us commit light identity theft. We need the same things you need, like safety, dignity, autonomy and my coworker Arnold’s Social Security number. In 2024, is that so much to ask?
Anyone who has sat through corporate DEI training in the past few years can tell you that, in order to be genuinely inclusive, we have to be ready to grapple with multiple, sometimes opposing, truths. It’s true I can’t do all the same things you can do. Disability is not easy. But consider that, despite my limitations, I may have skills that you don’t have, like starting rumors and making Arnold cry during all-staff meetings. Two truths: These skills have nothing to do with my disability, and I will accuse you of ableism if you confront me about them. If you genuinely saw me as an equal, you would be willing to sit in the dissonance of that.
I know what you may be thinking: “This author is using satire to shed light on the reality that what is typically assumed to be rude behavior from a disabled person is often a consequence of their circumstances.” To this I would say, Yes, my actions may have a negative impact, but it’s important to consider that my intentions are mean as well. Before passing judgment on anyone, it is crucial to understand their situation, and my situation is that I was born a bitch and I will die a bitch. I just happen to be disabled too.