Laws Changed, But People Didn’t Always Change

Our Beautiful Challenges — Marie W.O.W.C.P.

When I was younger, my parents had to fight for me and everything I needed so I could be part of public school, part of the community, and part of the world around me. They did a wonderful job with so many things. What they did wasn’t just out of responsibility as parents — it was out of love. That’s what parents should do for their children.

Along the way, they also showed me how to become my own advocate.

Because I was born in the late 1970s, my life fell into a very unique time in disability history. I was born after the Section 504 Act of 1973, but before the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990.

Because of that, I was able to receive the early intervention services I needed as a child. I was able to attend public school and be part of public places and community life in ways that generations before me often could not.

For those opportunities, I am grateful.

But at the same time, just because access existed did not mean acceptance existed.

I still grew up in a world where people often did not fully respect or understand people with disabilities. There were still low expectations, uncomfortable stares, judgment, and moments where I felt like people saw my disability before they saw me as a person.

That is something many people do not understand about my generation of disability.

We lived between two worlds.

We were part of the beginning of change, but we still experienced many of the old attitudes toward disability.

Yes, I had more opportunities than generations before me, and I will always recognize that. But having access to education and public spaces did not automatically mean I received the respect, understanding, or equal treatment I deserved.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, there were teachers who acted like I was taking up space in their classroom that should have gone to children they believed were more capable of learning. They only saw the disability — not the ability.

You would think it would have been the children who hurt me the most growing up, but honestly, that was not always the case.

Yes, children could be cruel at times, and I was picked on growing up. But back then, that was often seen as just part of life. Disability or not, you learned quickly that you had to stand up for yourself on the playground.

That was actually never my biggest problem.

My biggest problem was sometimes the adults.

The teachers.

The people who were supposed to encourage you, believe in you, and help shape the way other children treated you.

Instead, there were moments where I felt dismissed, underestimated, or treated like I did not belong there in the first place.

That is where my parents became my greatest example of advocacy.

They taught me that my voice mattered. They taught me how to stand up for myself, how to push for what I deserved, and how to not allow other people’s limited view of disability to define me.

Now fast forward 30 to 35 years later.

I live in an apartment building for low-income individuals, people over 55, and people with disabilities, and sadly, I still experience some of the same attitudes from adults that I experienced as a child.

That is the heartbreaking part.

Even after all these years, all the laws, all the awareness, and all the conversations surrounding disability, there are still people who only see limitations before they see the person standing in front of them.

In this day and age, I should not still feel like I am back in elementary school.

I should not have to feel like I constantly need to prove my intelligence, my independence, or my worth because I have a disability.

As an adult, it is exhausting to still experience the same kinds of attitudes and judgment that I faced as a child.

The heartbreaking part is that some of the barriers people with disabilities face today are no longer physical barriers — they are emotional and social ones.

It is the feeling of being underestimated before you even speak.

It is people making assumptions about your abilities without taking the time to know you.

It is being treated differently because of what people see on the outside instead of being respected for who you are as a whole person.

After 30 to 40 years of disability awareness, laws, inclusion conversations, and advocacy, people with disabilities should not still feel like they are fighting the same battles they fought as children.

Sometimes I feel mistreated because of my physical disability.

One thing I have noticed over the years is that people often misunderstand physical disabilities. Because I can speak for myself, advocate for myself, and push myself to stay independent, people sometimes assume I am completely fine emotionally.

They see strength.

They see someone who keeps going.

They see someone who stands up for herself.

But what many people do not see is the emotional exhaustion underneath all of that strength.

They do not see the daily mental battle it takes just to walk out into the world trying to be treated like an everyday person.

They do not see the fear of constantly being judged before people truly know who I am.

They do not see how tiring it becomes always feeling like you have to prove yourself, explain yourself, or protect yourself emotionally because of how people react to your disability.

Sometimes people only see two versions of disability.

Either they see someone as helpless, or they see someone as “strong enough” to handle everything.

What people often fail to understand is that even strong people struggle emotionally too.

Just because I keep showing up does not mean it is easy inside.