Breaking The Stigma: Ableism in Today’s Culture
Ableism: something I’ve experienced even before I knew I was disabled.
Being told you aren’t normal is hard enough, but when others around you make you feel like an outsider, it really hits your insecurities.
Growing up, I was labeled as the “accident-prone” girl. It was basically given to me the moment I had my first injury in the fourth grade. You have no idea how many times I’ve heard the phrase, “You’re in a boot AGAIN? We might as well wrap you in a full-body cast!” I always smiled, but each time I heard these phrases, I felt like my injuries were my fault. I was embarrassed.
Now, let’s fast forward to my travel volleyball days when I was 12 years old. We’re in Louisville, Kentucky, and everyone is ready to take on the tournament. In the first game, I went up to block at the net, and next thing you know, I snap all three of my main ligaments in my right ankle.
I was put in a cast and told it would heal on its own. Newsflash: it never did; it only got worse. It’s freshman year of high school; I keep getting shin splints on my right leg and have no idea why. I was basically on a scooter for almost the entire school year.
No one knew what was wrong, and at one point, my volleyball coach thought I was making my situation seem worse than it was, even when I showed her my doctor’s note not allowing me to play. I felt stuck, ignored, and thought maybe the pain was all in my head.
Soon, my mother took me to an ankle specialist, and we finally found the problem. When my three ligaments “healed,” they didn’t provide any support. The pieces started to fall into place. No matter what I tried, the shin splint fractures would always come back because I was walking with no support.
During the winter, I had to get my posterior tibial tendon repaired. Let me tell you, these next few months were a living nightmare. When the surgeon started the procedure, she told my parents she had to scrape layers of scar tissue surrounding my injury. For most people, this isn’t normal. But guess what? I’m not normal.
You want to know why there was so much scar tissue? My body was trying to repair the injury, but my connective tissue doesn’t work. My Ehlers Danlos Syndrome made itself known without the doctors realizing the reason for this abnormality.
I was 14 and bedridden for months. For most people my age, they would only be out of school for two weeks. For me, I was out for about two months. With my EDS, my recovery time takes twice as long as a “normally-timed” recovery. We didn’t know.
I tried my best to go to school, but if my foot wasn’t elevated above my heart, the swelling and agonizing pain would engulf me. I couldn’t handle it; I was on the verge of tears. I felt hopeless.
No one understood, and I found out through friends some teachers would talk about my “extensive absences” in class. I was a joke to people. I still remember how that made me feel to this day.
Not only did people in school judge my pain, so did the doctors. The surgeon’s nurse told me, “You should be better by now. You don’t need more school excuses; you’re fine.” Both my mom and I were shocked. He went out of his way to tell the doctor to shorten the excuse. Instead of a month, they only gave me a two-week excuse from class. I wasn’t any better when those 14 days were up.
What hurt the most was that people didn’t believe my pain. They thought I was over dramatic. The only one who thought I was telling the truth was my mother. It was us against everyone else.
Even when I tried to do half days at school, people judged how I did them. I went in the morning and stayed until lunch, and all of my after-lunch classes were mad about that. Here’s the thing: I did the mornings so I could knock out most of my core classes. Not only that, my mother and I decided to do it that way so I could immediately take my pain medication with food in my stomach.
I couldn’t go to school on hydrocodone and focus; that’s actually impossible. If I went to afternoon classes, that’s the only way I could make it through. Moral of the story: it was pointless to try because I wouldn’t remember anything that happened.
Don’t get me wrong, not everyone was like this. In fact, some of my teachers tried their best to help in any way they can. Others, on the other hand, may have rushed to judge my situation too quickly. It was a hard year.
I’m telling you this story to show you that even before I knew I was disabled, I experienced forms of ableism. I just didn’t know that I was experiencing true discrimination until I was diagnosed at 18.
So, if you ever see someone struggling, don’t jump the gun too quickly; there may be an underlying reason you have no idea about. The idea of “normal” is a construct and, in my opinion, shouldn’t exist. Be understanding because you never know the true extent of a situation. Be mindful and fight against your unconscious stereotypes daily. The disability community will thank you for that.
Sincerely, Abbey
Photography: Abbey C.