A Letter to Able-Bodied People, From a 'Sick Chick'

Dear able-bodied people,

This might come as a shock, but I don’t hate you. 

Dear able-bodied people,

Don’t talk down to me, and don’t use the “cutesy baby voice” you think I’ll appreciate. I don’t appreciate it. I know you’re trying to be nice, but it’s an insult to my intelligence.  

Dear able-bodied people,

Please. Don’t pity me. You don’t even know me, but as you hear my story or see my scars, you don’t need to react with pity.

Dear able-bodied people,

I’m not your token. Being friends with me or working with me does not make you a good person. Asking me to a school dance does not make you a good person. Make sure your heart is in the right place.

No, I’m not paranoid. We live in a crazy world where people use each other for their own benefit. When you’re a minority you’re more subjected to that. 

Dear able-bodied people,

Stop using the world “cripple” as an insult or to be funny. It isn’t. It’s just plain wrong.

Dear able-bodied people,

See past. My disability is a large part of my identity, but I am more. I am a writer. A feminist. An average girl obsessed with “Dirty Dancing.” 

Dear able-bodied people,

We’re not so different. See that. We have similar hopes, dreams, goals and morals. We’re the same on the inside (in the metaphorical sense strictly… sorry couldn’t resist). That’s what counts though. 

Dear able-bodied people,

You’re not always right. Neither am I. But there is some middle ground where we can understand each other.

Dear able-bodied people,

I don’t hate you. I hate the entitlement and ignorance. 

Dear people,

Let’s be the change.

Xoxo,

Sick Chick

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