It takes me a good, long hour to get ready every morning… And it’s not for the reason you think- that being in a wheelchair must make getting ready a more difficult, onerous process than just throwing on a shirt and pants before rolling out the door. That’s not true. If I was alright with it, my aide would have no problem doing just that and we’d be done with it in 10 minutes. Unfortunately for my aide, it takes me just about ten minutes alone to pick out what I’m going to wear for the day, and that’s before she irons everything to the socks so I’m crisp. Then, once the clothes are on, there’s a laundry list of daily rituals I go through- including, but not limited to- cleaning my ears with q-tips (one of my favorite feelings in the world), styling my hair with overpriced hair product, and spraying on just enough cologne to make sure it doesn’t wear off before lunch…. Finally, to finish my morning ritual, I examine myself in the mirror for a couple minutes before I roll out the door to start kicking ass and taking names. My doctor would be disappointed, but most days my look is more important than fitting breakfast in.  

Now, I know what you’re thinking… He is insecure, vain, fill in the blank with any sad trait. But the truth of the matter is, I realize the importance of the way I present myself to the world. 

The way I see it, and what my disability has taught me about life, is that there are some things that are simply beyond our control. And, as terrible as that sounds, we just have to accept it. I’m in a wheelchair, I’m four-foot-nothing, and I’m skinnier than that kid in the commercial that says “you can feed this kid for $.25 a day.” I don’t have any problem with that, except that I know people may judge based on those aspects of my appearance. 

On the flip side, however, I’ve also learned there are many variables in life we actually do define ourselves. So instead of worrying about the things I can’t change, I make sure my swag is so strong people don’t even see the chair, I keep my feet in designer shoes spread just far enough apart in my “alpha-male” stance, and all my clothes reflect my own taste so people can get a glimpse into my personality. It is my intention to give people something other than my wheelchair to think about upon first seeing me because, honestly, who cares that I’m in a chair? It says nothing about who I am because I didn’t choose it. They say life is 10% what happens to us, 90% how we react to it. So, if you want to judge me as everyone judges everyone, judge me for the decisions I’ve made, not the things I can’t change.

This motivation is what inspired me to draw a logo I could wear representing everything I believe in. So when I wear

[dis]ABLE, I’m presenting myself in the exact manner I’d like to be perceived. I am ABLE, and none of my limitations, visible or invisible, will stand between me and my dreams. And, as the Movement grows bigger, together we will inspire others to see passed each person’s limitations for all of their abilities they have to offer this world.