Mirror, Mirror

Wheelchair Barbie, Selkie’s authentic promise of real representation and the little girl inside who never really grows up. 

When I first encountered the possibility of using a wheelchair I was terrified. I felt as if I was watching someone else in my body enter a new world I couldn’t get a grasp on. Truth be told I could have counted on one hand the number of individuals I’d seen living life as a disabled person, let alone another young girl. My now identifiable internalised ableism reared its head in dropping my gaze, praying to be invisible (a feat beyond impossible) and the shame of even whispering the world disabled in context with myself. I’ve been a wheelchair user for almost 11 years now and yet to my shame, I still feel the difficulties in leaving the house everyday as a visibly disabled young women. I also notice the not so subtle reactions one gets to various mobility aids, the fear, general uncomfortableness and the most baffling hostility from those who believe I’m ‘far too young to need that.’ 

Recently I travelled to the airport on a trip to visit my aunt and cousins, a couple weeks previous to travelling I found a small, collapsible mobility scooter on Facebook marketplace, craving any kind of autonomy over the way I move through the world (self propelling taking way to much energy). I was excited, a little nervous and ready to try not to run anyone’s toes over! What I never could have predicted was the hostile glances and cold stares I would encounter from almost every individual in the airport. 

In my manual wheelchair I often joke about being the invisible elephant in the room, people will go out of their way not to stare so much so that they end up accidentally careening into me. It’s awkward, I’m anything but invisible and I try and move through a terribly inaccessible world with as much grace and dignity I can muster. That I’m used to, I’m long in the game now and old peoples pitying glances are something to be expected, albeit unwanted. But this was something different, it was as if they believed I ‘didn’t deserve’ the scooter, as if I was a juvenile child playing a prank, I actually broke down and cried in the middle of the terminal because anytime I needed anyone to move I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I’ve had similar looks when using my walking stick, if it was a crutch I have a feeling people would assume a temporary injury, deem that acceptable and move on. But no, I’m young, I’m wearing makeup and a pretty dress, it doesn’t compute in people’s minds and somehow, that’s my fault. 

When I was 11 I didn’t have many role models, there was Glee (seriously that was really progressive for the time) and the odd soap opera character with a disability to tick a box, I went through school having doors slammed in my face, students looking honestly terrified by my presence, feeling like I was living a teenage nightmare, desperate to be just like everyone else and failing miserably. My friends however, never batted an eye, they knew I was me, accepted the change in routes between classes and have always treated me the same no matter how i come packaged still to this day. 

All this to say that seeing other young women, three dimensional people who use mobility aids and are disabled, is everything to me even leaving my desperate teenage years behind. But it’s not as simple as ticking a box, we’re people first and foremost, this world is not built for us by any stretch of the imagination and adaptions take time, money and humility, to accept what we don’t know and being willing to learn and make mistakes. This year already has brought me to tears many times, I know it isn’t perfect but going into a shop and seeing wheelchair Barbie, watching a film where she dances alongside all the other girls feels like giving 11 year old me the biggest hug, telling her it gets better and actually meaning it. And waking up to the news of one of your favourite brands including (and celebrating) a disabled wheelchair user for New York fashion week. 

I did a shoot a few months ago inspired by Vogue’s issue of reframing fashion and I think people underestimate the value of not just being represented but valued - not a gimmick or an ‘inspirational message’ but a person, a beautiful well rounded human who’s disability is as much of an integral part of them as the colour of their hair. The reason my friends found my transition into using mobility aids so normalised is that they knew me, they knew that the way I get from A to B seldom changes my personality while also understanding it to be a celebrated part of my existence. That’s what good representation does, it shows that we’re human, we’re people and we live a little differently but we love dresses and wanted to be a Disney princess just as much as you when we were a child. Side note Disney really needs to get on that! 

There’s still so much to be done, but little me is beaming inside just looking at the changes coming in, especially in such tough times. There is light and it’s covered in fairy dust ✨

Welcome

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?”

— Mary Oliver

It’s been a strange time for us all as of late, as Autumn whispers its sweet song, once again I’m reminded of new beginnings. I had a facebook memory the other day come up, it's seven years since I started my first blog, Little Red, it was my sanctuary and I still remember the excitement I felt when I hit launch. I was 15 and desperate to carve a purpose out of the cards I’d been given, it opened me up to so many friendships, opportunities and a self confidence I’ve only found through reaching other people going through similar experiences. Since then a lot has changed, I’ve been so lucky to have continued with my little corner of the internet, but I had slipped away as life, once again, got the better of me.

Many things have moved within these months of my cocoon hibernation, my little brother moved away to uni about a week ago and while there’s a strange hollowness it find it permeated with what I can only dub a rush of proud big sister energy! I’m so excited for his next chapter but there’s another new normal to adjust to alongside the celebration of beginnings. It’s got me thinking of my own book and delving into the next few pages, I’m trying to take a look at my life and get back to the roots of what brings me joy and childlike wonder again. I’m attempting to have my first major foray into analog photography, taking my late grandad’s camera along with me wherever I may go, I’m writing always (some things never change) and attempting to become slightly less hermit like, though still with plenty of days spent curled up with a cup of tea. Most of all I’m trying to become a student again, it can be hard with my health so online courses are giving me the taste for now, reading books and articles in between cat naps and grabbing magazines and glue sticks to make crappy collages that will never see the light of day! But I want to share all this with you, I want to craft my own solo magazine on the internet, so, it starts here, a new site, a reimagined digital diary, one I hope to fill with all the things I’ve been keeping to myself over these months.

I’m also preparing to create a newsletter - watch this space! There’s been a lot of work projects and creative endeavours happening behind the scenes that I’m eager to share sneak peaks of, I hope you’ll be here :) my old blog posts can be found archived on my old website linked: I didn’t want them to disappear completely, always so gratful to all who put up with me!

Best of luck to you all in this new season,

Hope ❥