My Mobility Device is an Asset, Not a Setback

What others see as a weakness, I view as my superpower.

When someone first sees me, they may only see a disabled woman who uses a power wheelchair. They may think, because of my mobility device, I’m powerless and incapable, simply because I’m unable to walk.

Using wheels to navigate the world, I’m faced with dated social stereotypes—that rolling equals less than, solely based on my physical abilities. Others assume that wheels equate to being unworthy, and that my hindrance of strength diminishes my value. These old-fashioned beliefs are hurtful, and I’m choosing to reframe that narrative.

My wheels or my disability aren’t bad; they’re not a setback. They are part of the many interwoven layers that make me who I am, and they’re something I’ve learned to embrace as a positive part of my life. My relationship with my wheelchair has been a personal journey, and I recognize that every person with a disability’s path toward acceptance looks different. My wheels provide me with a sense of agency, independence, and the freedom to move through the world in a way that works for me. 

It’s important to note that society's barriers are often more limiting than the disability itself; there’s a deep-rooted difference between disability and accessibility barriers created by our environments. Our environments are often the biggest obstacles to our inclusion and, therefore, block our mobility.

The lack of universally accessible designed spaces leads us mobility device users to equip ourselves with critical, problem-solving, and adaptability on the spot. We’re often forced to makeshift our way through these barriers created wholly for the able-bodied population, instead of full accessibility being included from the start. We’re the ideal candidates for pivoting, as we traverse a world that wasn’t built for us—and we’re still choosing to take on that challenge.

Strength Looks Different for Everyone

Disabled people, including wheelchair users, can live full, prosperous, fruitful lives. Success looks different for everyone. It’s not exclusive to only those who are able-bodied. Standing, strong muscles, or strength aren’t a requirement for accomplishment.

Accepting the use of a wheelchair is an emotional journey that requires serious mental strength. There can be many stages of acceptance when committing to a wheelchair, which can lead to a lot of self-reflection—and for some, even mourning. Mourning of the abilities we once had. Some of the strongest humans I know aren’t those sporting astonishing physical physiques; it’s the act of empowerment from the resilient bunch who have been faced with life’s barriers and refuse to quit.

I live with a progressive muscle-wasting disease, and using a power wheelchair full-time allows me to preserve the little strength I do have. I now have regained energy, greater participation in everyday life, and an improved quality of life. It’s the safest, most effective way to lead the lifestyle I crave. A wheelchair isn't the end of an active life—it's often what makes an active life possible.

I’m no longer stationed on the sidelines; I’m propelled right into the action. I can fully partake in activities once thought impossible. The path may look different: a stroll on the beach, scenic viewpoint atop a mountain, or a rooftop observation deck, are all made possible because of the maneuverability provided by my wheels; no capes needed for this wheel superpower.

Rolling In More Opportunities

I choose to view my wheels as an extension of myself rather than a symbol of loss. For the abilities I’ve lost, what I’ve ultimately gained is true freedom, independence, and autonomy. After decades of using my wheels, it’s allowed me to be an active contributing member of society, an opportunity and right that should be awarded to all.

With the help of my wheels, I have educational degrees, live and drive independently, have traveled the country extensively, hold a career, and continue to count my wins. Using my lived experience, I’ve carved out an entirely different niche career path that supports others living with similar rare conditions—something that would have never been on my radar otherwise.

The acceptance of help from my support systems, like caregivers, has also been a contributing factor in my story. It’s offered me new achievements to unlock. They are part of my superpower—the people behind the scenes who make my independence possible. With their unwavering support, I can access my daily needs and participate fully in my community. My disability pride has grown from the individualized support I have received—because of them, I am able to thrive.

Finding My People

I may be biased, but the disabled community is one of the most incredible communities I’ve had the pleasure of being part of. They are a determined, tenacious bunch of talented souls, and a totally gatekept population that deserves way more recognition. After all, the disabled community is the largest minority in the world.

Whether virtually or in real-life, my disabled friends have carried me through many of life’s adventures. Being part of this welcoming family has exposed me to an entirely new demographic I might otherwise have neglected. 

I’m so grateful to be in the company of such amazing humans—many of whom are lifelong friends. The ability to connect with one another on similar paths and handle parallel experiences collectively is ultimately life-changing. We’re each other's biggest cheerleaders in a world that expects and anticipates us to fail.

Together, we’re each other’s best resource. It is our underlying, unspoken understanding of adversity that we lift each other up and create the support we all deserve.

A Whole New Perspective

My chair hasn’t just changed how I move through the world—it has given me a whole new perspective on life, quite literally. With the seated position, I’m given a vantage point at eye level to a whole new world. Things I would most likely have originally overlooked, I get to witness with a renewed, fresh set of eyes. It’s taken me off the beaten path and into a sense of wonder, forcing me to slow down (in a good way).

Instead of the regular path, which may include barriers like impossible inclines, dreaded steps, or impractical doorways, the accessible route typically involves “an elongated stroll” to get to the desired destination. It can feel like a hurdle, but it can be turned into a positive. Like unanticipated backstage access, an unexpected stroll near a garden, or a surprise architectural tour of the building from the owner.

Although sometimes, the reality is, it can also mean rolling down dark alleys near dumpsters, or having to interrupt a working kitchen of cooks at a restaurant just to pass through to your dinner table. The accessible route can sometimes be a maze of fun surprises on the fly, both good and bad.

Moving With Purpose

These wheels have gifted me a sense of purpose. To educate, advocate, and spread awareness of the importance of accessibility and inclusion for all. Accessibility benefits everyone. 

I’m unafraid to call out inaccessible places, practices, and even strangers in public who may get it wrong. It may seem small, even minuscule to some, but those little steps can lead to a ripple effect of notable change in the world.

A local business or public space may not realize they are unintentionally excluding an entire group of people, simply because they lack a proper barrier-free entrance ramp. Vocalizing that need helps others and advocates for the greater good of all people. Everyone deserves the same opportunity to access experiences. Leave your mark. We can create a better, more inclusive world together.

Finding Confidence on Four Wheels

I am a proud disabled wheelchair user, and my wheels are my biggest strength. It has become a part of my identity that I fully embrace. I’m specifically rejecting society’s expectations of what a wheelchair user is capable of. I continue to challenge those misconceptions and outdated ideologies surrounding the entire disabled community.

My mobility device has restored my independence. Every journey, conversation, and opportunity reminds me that these wheels aren't a setback; they are my win—and the reason I keep moving forward. 

My wheelchair isn't the story of what I've lost; it's the story of everything I've gained. This superpower is something I’ll continue to embrace with pride and celebrate with joy, even in a world that refuses to properly recognize it.