In school, I was the slow student the one in the back of the class dreaming and watching the world around me. This world was filled with broken people, sad people, angry people all taking out their pain and frustration out on those around them. I knew I could not take this path. With this realization, I decided to do the one thing no one would expect. I would go to college and pull myself out of the world I was born into.
There was just one problem or at least that is what I was told. I was stupid, a retard. I was not the pretty sister; or the smart sister, I was the tough one that knew how to take a hit. The one that could be pushed down, punched, beaten yet I always got up, but that was stupid too.
It was not until the middle of my sixth grade year a teacher me I was not stupid. He told me, "I just had a different way of thinking and learning". This teacher never used the words learning disability, dyslexia, or even slow. Instead he pointed to the fact I was able to see twenty different possible ending to any story prompt; and I was able to hear something once or twice and repeat it back verbatim, He would ask me questions and let my mind explore all the multitude of possibilities. He pushed me, to be more than I thought I could ever be. When I told him I wanted to go to college, he was the first person who did not laugh. I have thought often about this teacher over the years and wonder if he realizes the impact he had on my life,
You might have figured from the picture and the story: I have dyslexia. Over the years, other teachers, instructors, professors have not been nearly as supportive as my sixth grade teacher. As an undergraduate, a professor told me, "People like me don't belong in academia". In graduate school, I was told, "I would never be able to finish a thesis". In Law School a professor asked me "How someone like me planned to be an attorney" or better yet, "that my inability to spell would make it impossible to pass law school or the bar exam." I have been asked, "If there is a cure." People told me, "I was just to lazy too learn to spell". The things educators told me or asked verged on rude. I can deal with rudeness. However, I find it interesting that these people still do not understand, just because a person may think differently does not make them any less intelligent.
What does this have to do with my topic "Writing with disabilities"; well it has a lot to do with it actually. Though I have a disability, I have never bowed down to accepting accommodations, in school, work, or life. Many people applaud me for this; but, I have to wonder; Why I feel it is bowing down. Would you ask a blind person to read without braille? Ask a deaf person to speak without sign language? No, people would think you insensitive, uneducated, and absolutely politically incorrect. Why is it any different for other disabilities?
I believe it is because other disabilities are invisible. looking at me you cannot tell I'm dyslexic, nor can you see ADD, ADHD or any number of other disabilities. Because they cannot be seen, people do not believe they exist, they are a problem, and don't even understand what they are. I was once asked by a law school professor, "So that means you can't read. How does that work?" As a student this I dealt with this type of ignorance on a daily basis. It taught me to keep my mouth shut, about my disability. I feared I would be seen as less than the other students.
Having exited the ivory towers of academia, its lessons were drilled deep into my unconscious, Don't tell, Don't ask, I have filled my world with Don't. As a writer who struggles with the written language--spelling, writing, reading--transforming thoughts to words I don't voice this struggle I internalize my frustration: what I think is not what I see. The don'ts of my world strangle me as I battle with the words trying to force them to create my inner worlds. I read critiques that focus not on the story, but on my typo and mis-spellings I don't voice my struggle, I don't tell. I sit silently like a deaf person trying to speak a language beyond my grasp. Because Don'ts are my world
Writing with a disability is hard enough; add in my need to remain silent about my struggle makes it doubly difficult. This perpetuated need to remain silent about invisible disabilities needs to be broken, not just for myself but for others, So I have decided to put myself out there, knowing full well that some will criticizes me, tell me I should choose a different path. I will use my inner strength once more. to add my voice and actions to the chorus of others to prove that people with disabilities can be writers, lawyers, and leaders. I will remove the don'ts from my world.
