For about the past 10 to 20 years, we’ve seen an uptick in the “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” mentality. The idea of building a “thick skin” is desired, and even required in a lot of careers, schools, and even environments that are supposed to be deemed as “safe”. The problem this can create though, is a million times more detrimental than if you were to be the most sensitive person in the room. This kind of thinking can lead to toxic behaviors and habits, and even sacrificing someone’s mental well-being.

Now, this mindset is common among everybody, and can hurt anyone, But, take a second and imagine how this thinking pattern can affect disabled people. And, how that pattern affects how disabled people are perceived by the world.

For my entire life, I have had relatives, friends, and even complete strangers tell me how “strong” I am. I almost always follow up that comment with some iteration of, “What do you think makes me so strong?” and the amount of stuttering that I am usually met with is a little funny. But, if not stuttering, the answer is usually something like, “You’re just always so strong and happy despite your circumstances.” Which, on the surface, sounds really nice, right? But as a disabled person, when you have people you barely know say that about you constantly, it becomes the most irritating thing to hear.

See, what I’ve started to realize is that when people say that, they’re not really recognizing the hurdles that disabled people have to get around in order to just get by as a human being. What they’re doing is essentially saying, “Thank god I don’t have to deal with this, I would hate my life if I were you.” which most of the time never is what people intend to do, but a complex set of emotions can start to take over. It can start to feel like they’re happy because they feel just a bit better about themselves. Thank goodness, I don’t have this life. It’s like a source of inspiration for them.

Meanwhile, what they’re not seeing is the genuine hurt and struggle that happens when I’m alone. All they see is someone who is going about their day as a disabled person. A disabled person who is just existing. When you are someone who hears how strong they are over and over again from people who don’t see that, it makes dealing with the struggle even harder. Like, If I’m so strong, why do I feel so weak right now? That idea doesn’t allow room for moments of “weakness”, for the moments where our life is genuinely hard to get through. If I’m seen as some kind of a poster child by everyone, how bad is it gonna look when I finally reach a breaking point?

The thing is, I don’t want to be seen as strong for just being alive. I want to be seen as strong when I’m actively angry. When I’m looking the world in the face and airing out all of my grievances, when I’m fighting for equality for not only myself but my peers, when I allow myself to hate being disabled for just a moment. Not when I’m just sitting pretty and being quiet. I don’t wanna be the “safe” disabled person that able-bodied people feel comfortable around, the person that feels approachable. I want people to take it all for what my struggle is, and not for what they want it to be. What’s the point of being seen as strong by someone if I am only strong when I am fitting their idea of what a disabled person should be, happy and inspiring? I can’t be happy about it all the time, I can’t put on a brave face and tell people it will all be okay. Because here’s the thing-it won’t all be okay. There is always a threat somewhere.

I want to be seen as strong when I’m actively angry.

There are groups of predators who prey specifically on disabled women, disabled people don’t have marriage equality under medicaid, it is legal to pay disabled employees below minimum wage under the Fair Labor Standards Act. How is it possible to keep up appearances of being happy, comfortable, and complacent when the reality of being hurt because of circumstances we can’t control exists everyday? It feels like holding your breath. Counting down the seconds until you can exhale, trying your best to keep a bubble in your mouth. But, something always happens to let the bubble loose. The 504 sit-ins were 44 years ago, the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed 31 years ago. Even with “protections” in place, disabled people are still targeted. My disabled friends aren’t believed by doctors, I’ve been gaslighted by teachers, people who were supposed to have my best interest in mind. I’ve been sidelined. Of course I’m going to want to rage, to have a moment of weakness, to have a moment to hate it, and that’s okay. Disabled people can be strong while still needing a shoulder to cry on, it isn’t always going to be a pinterest quote kind of experience.

In fact, I think I feel the most strength when I am going through the ugly spots. When I’ve been in some kind of pain all day, when my accommodations aren’t being honored, when I’m having to ask myself the hard questions like “Where will I be mobility-wise in 10 years?”, “What is college going to look like for me?”, “Am I ever going to be fully independent?”.

When I am being fully transparent with myself and finding some way to go to bed with hope instead of dread, that’s when I feel strong. When I write it out, when I cry, when I reach out for guidance, even when I allow myself to say my fears out loud. It’s not always pretty, and it’s not always the inspirational, feel-good happy ending that people expect it to be.

So, here is my love note to all of my fellow disabled folks today: let it all out.

Let it all out.

 

Scream into a pillow, sob with a full on snot-coming-out-of-your-nose moment, talk about the things that scare you like if you’re ever going to be able to get that dream job or live alone, and just live this life as authentically as you can. Forget the fake smile, forget the half-hearted thank you’s you have to give to strangers on the street when they say something borderline weird or pray for you unprompted, (yes, that happens, and it’s a trip to witness.) and forget trying to be “strong” with a smile on your face.

You’re strong with tears in your eyes, too.