The Acceptance Problem: It’s Yours, Not Mine

Okay, so usually I don’t write two in a day, but something has been on my mind lately, and the blog I posted earlier wasn’t an original piece of writing. Instead, it was forwarding an inspirational story. So here’s my daily food for thought.
       I warn you that this blog may unsettle some, and it may make you uncomfortable. The un-comfortableness will come from the overuse of swear words or a sexual conversation. It might come from looking at “ourselves” (society in general) in the near. Some of you may not like what you see if you are honest with yourself. 
       I am two and a half weeks away from finishing my Master’s Degree at my school in  Northwestern, Pennsylvania. As I complete this round of my academic work, I am forced to reflect. For the last nineteen years of my life, give or take a semester or two, I have been on the “right path.” We all are required in the end states to enroll in 12 years of compulsory education. After that, different paths can emerge depending on the individual. My approach has been full of curves and wrong turns and such.
       Now some of you may say, “But you’ve told us before you have two Bachelor’s degrees and just said you’re getting your Master’s Degree! What more could you want?” And to be honest, I reflected on this question for several weeks now. I even talked to varying sources, and many of them have told me this, “You are at crisscross roads in your life because you didn’t accept your disability sooner and set your expectations reasonably.” To them, I say it is not that I have the acceptance problem. It is you. “You,” in this case, being social. Even my parents and my shrink (who I occasionally go to) maintain my sanity have remarked that perhaps a little bit of my problem is accepting my disability. 
       Is my problem accepting my disability, or instead is it accepting what society thinks I should be? Limited to or capable of because of my disability. I believe it is the latter, and I will say this straight out. You’re damn, right! I don’t accept limitations put on me by anyone except myself. If that means I have an acceptance problem, then I guess I do. 
       Last Christmas, I asked for a book on the history of the disability rights movement entitled “What We Have Done: An Oral History of the Disability Rights Movement.” I have not been able to steadily read that book due to my Master’s Program requirements, but tonight when I read Chapter 3: Discrimination, I realized not much has changed from the ’50s to today. Some of you may say, but we have the ADA! Society is much more accepting of disability! To that, I must sarcastically laugh. Yes, the ADA has removed the barriers physically to many of the obstacles that face the disabled community. What it has not done is to remove the societal stigmas that come with disability. For example, there was a story in the third chapter of the book about Johnnie Lacy, a disabled individual who wanted to be a teacher, very much like myself. Lacy was systemically persuaded not to be by the same institution, allowing her to take special education classes. When I read this story, I couldn’t help by seeing myself.         
       Yes, I will have three degrees in about two-and-a-half weeks. Still, the route a lot of my college education (especially recently), I have been persuaded or “recommended” not to pursue the paths I follow. The problem is that we fight, and we fight for so long because we know we’re capable of doing whatever we put our minds to. Still, eventually, it’s not necessarily that we give up, but we come to a realization when the whole institutional system is against you. And you have no allies except the people that know you personally; there’s not much you can do. Even though my parents and counselors (and even friends) believe that I am perfectly capable of teaching, they do not have any power when it comes to educational institutions.
       Eventually, I just gave in, so I will walk away with a degree that I will not be able to use. Because yet again, this happened. When I expressed this sediment to this and others around me, they remarked that I haven’t accepted my disability and need to be more realistic about my expectations. To them—in this format, I say you might be wrong. Screw that. I am not bitter and am perfectly aware of my limitations. What I do not accept is the lack of opportunity in the greatest country in the world. We have the Americans with Disabilities Act, that “gold standard of disability law,” but it hasn’t done jack shit when it comes to disability and equality. Just because we can get into a building doesn’t mean society wants us there, and that is the next struggle that the disability rights movement will have to undertake. 
       Finally, someone liked the comparison, but as I dive deeper into the disability rights movement and find my voice, I can’t help but compare our struggles to African Americans in the ’60s. They were discriminated against because of some God-given skin pigment, and people like me, whether wheelchair-bound or disabled in some other way. I am discriminated against because society has such a screwed up perception. Not because we are flawed but because the company itself is flawed. It may take to the end of my life and beyond to fix that problem. Right here and now, I dedicate myself to making life better for further generations of disabled Americans and disabled individuals around the world.