I hid from my first date for a good hour before agreeing to finally meet with him. I met Rory on MySpace, back when I first started talking to boys online. My profile mentioned nothing about Cerebral Palsy; let alone I use a power wheelchair when I know long distance travel is involved – but there I was in my 500-pound glory.

Rory and I exchanged numbers beforehand. We became to know each other through text and online. I was 16, and not out to anyone about my sexuality. I knew this had to change when Rory started posting cute comments on my profile; therefore, I told my sister I was bisexual. Only to tell her that I was gay a few weeks later – oops.

Rory and I agreed to meet at the town center, though, I had not mentioned a word about having Cerebral Palsy. I was hiding in an aisle at Target as he searched for me. I felt my nerves coursing. I knew I had to tell Rory something about my disability before meeting me in person; or I could make a break for the exit.

So I texted him, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
“What’s wrong,” Rory replied.
“I’m in a wheelchair.”

April 2019, Netflix aired the new series “Special” created by Ryan O’Connell. The show is a scripted semi-autobiography and offers insight into O’Connell’s life – who has Cerebral Palsy and is gay. The dramedy begins with him getting hit by a car; and after landing a new job and confusing his coworkers about his actual disability, O’Connell decides to shed himself of his disabled identity to start anew. O’Connell’s deceptions catch up with him as he is coming to realize maybe his truth is sufficient. He eventually “comes out of the closet” about his CP.

I was over the moon when I found out this series was hitting Netflix – the mainstream. I first heard of O’Connell when his book, “I’m Special: And Other Lies We Tell Ourselves,” was published in 2015. I added the autobiography to my ever-growing list, but more importantly, I was inspired by a disabled gay man trying to survive the shallow depths of Los Angeles. Much like myself.

However, I knew his series was going to reach a wider audience. And this is what excited me the most. I knew people would be exposed to a huge part of my experience, and the experience of many others. In turn, my hope is that it will lead to more acceptance.

I marveled as I watched the series: Feeling his joy and rejection. What he bares in the show parallels a good portion of my own experience; and it is probably why I put off watching it for about a month.

From people assuming about his disability to being ditched during a Grindr meet-up, O’Connell comments on issues plaguing disabled LGBTQ+ people. Or specifically in our case, those who identify as disabled AND gay

In one scene, O’Connell spots a guy who “tapped” his Grindr profile to show his interest. O’Connell introduces himself as “TakeOffYourMasc,” the moniker on his own profile.

I laughed at the critique of hyper-masculinity, and how gay men tend to present themselves as “masc” in order to navigate a heteronormative society. This leads to anti-fem sentiments among the gay community and forces us to obtain impossible standards presented by the media. However, O’Connell’s Grindr name also refers to how disabled people can “mask” themselves through social media by using poses, filters, and, of course, our beautiful faces.

I wrestled with both issues simultaneously while I was in the early stages of forming my own identity. In my mid-to-late teens, the trend on Myspace was to be a “popular scene kid.” For the gays, it was cool to transcend and go against gender norms. I grew out and razored my hair, started wearing feminine clothes and caked on makeup. I was inspired by the likes of Jeffree Star and Izzy Hilton. I created my own persona online, but if I really wanted to stand out I knew I would have to physically transcend my social media.

Hitting the social scene in L.A. presented a new myriad of challenges. Online I was able to flirt with whoever, comfortably comment on other’s beauty, and engage without having to explain my disability. As a result, I met people I knew online and began having to “come of the closet” about my Cerebral Palsy. I was met with rumors and assumptions at first – most thought I was on some sort of narcotic when they met me. The word was that I had overdosed and was left damaged; that is, up until I laid that rumor to rest when my friend asked me about it over MySpace.

This went on into my early twenties. However, at 21 I chopped off my hair and changed my whole appearance – resulting in more guys looking my direction. At 22 I posted my first selfie in my wheelchair on Instagram, and never looked back on masking myself behind social media again.

O’Connell grapples with his disabled identity, and at several points, rejects being disabled altogether. Seemingly, though, he accepts his gayness more as he is looking for someone to love. Until he realizes he needs to own himself completely. O’Connell is just as gay as he is disabled.

I am just as gay as I am disabled as I am a first generation Latinx. (And proud!)

My “coming out” process, in both my disabled and gay identities, was gradual. And I still feel the need to explain myself; however, I do so now without any hesitation.

My hope with O’Connell’s show is that others are inspired to live in their truth. That is also my hope about sharing my own experience, and that our able-bodied gay counterparts receive our message. Because when it’s all said and done, everyone deserves love.

As for Rory? We are still good friends to this day!