Woman + disability

International women's day was just last week, and it made me reflect on how being a woman with a disability makes it impossible to ignore all the ways in which we are treated differently. Aside from the obvious pay gaps and work opportunity disparages that exist both for women and people living with disabilities, there is a clear divide in the way outsiders behave and react toward disabled women. I have, and forever will be, a hot pink-wearing, Shania Twain-singing, girly girl, but at what point do we stop allowing people to treat us like second-class citizens because of our gender, dress, and disability?

My femininity and limb loss are often seen as a sign of fragility. A reason to feel sorry for me because how could I possibly carry on through life as a weak little woman without society and all the men on the planet protecting me? Sometimes when people look at me, the sadness in their eyes screams loudly. It takes therapy and deep breaths not to scream right back -that I'm just fine, thanks. I am no delicate crumpled flower. I might be a crumpled-up piece of paper (something only a true swiftie will ever understand), but a flower in need of your pity I am not.

There is a horrible idea of what a woman is supposed to look like that very few people fit into, and some of them had to do very unhealthy things to be there. Despite so much outrage amongst women everywhere, extended sizing and makeup shade ranges, and more inclusive advertising, we still have a way to go before women no longer feel judged and finally feel appreciated for not all looking like a generic blonde Barbie Doll. Using any assistive devices or prostheses has truly shown me how much of a problem this is for women who are already doing the most, living their lives to the fullest, getting around in their wheelchairs, crutches, prosthetics, etc., and contributing to society in all the same ways as everyone else. No less beautiful, sexy, and intelligent than others but often put into one of two categories- flawed or fetish- Unfairly and inaccurately categorized as damaged goods, like the dented cans of crushed tomatoes in the clearance aisle or some sort of dirty little secret men desire when no one is around.

So what can we even do about it? For a start, we can all take a closer look at ourselves. Are you guilty of any of the above? Maybe you don't mean any harm with your pity, but I hope you will see its possible adverse effects differently after reading this. Do you judge other women and tear them down based on their looks? Food for thought, right? We can all do better. And we can all ask for what we deserve, respect and equality. Men can and should speak too because they would be more lost without us than they care to admit and because, well, it's the right thing to do.