Simple Man Don't Want to Miss a Thing

I'm like John Cena, “You can't see me.” I was eighteen years old going into my senior year of high school. I was excited to do senior pictures because you had the freedom to do what you wanted, to fit the photo to your personality. My personality, an anti-authority, anti-censorship, one track, attitude driven teenager in full on defense mode from years of bullying. I was and sometimes still am hypersensitive to how you see my outward appearance. I know my gait and posture are typically a first impression for people. As a teenager, I was in full on internalized ableism mode. 

I wanted my CP in the background because I’d had enough of the senseless ridicule. For the senior picture, I wanted my personality to come out. The Matrix was still huge at the time and I wanted to leave a legacy of “cool me.” This backfired in every way. My CP showed up in the photo and it bothered me to no end. My neck naturally tilts to the right instead of remaining centered. Problem one, I didn’t want my CP to be visible, which is why I wasn’t doing anything with my hands. Problem two, the neck tilt is so natural that I didn’t notice it at the time. Because of this one photo, I’m aware of that and to this day will adjust my neck posture if I know I’m about to take a photo. 

What’s the big deal? I was a teenager, I wanted to look cool and I didn’t think my disability was cool because I’d spent years being made fun of for it. I was a lot closer to those wounds then than I am today. To make matters worse, my senior quote was a pro wrestling thing, which was more popular than ever at that point in time, but you still got teased for liking the “fake” sport. But, that wasn’t the upsetting part. The quote, “Live for the moment” attributed to the wild wrestling tag team the Hard Boyz was mistaken for the classic detective novel series by the same name, but without the “z” at the end. 

Instead of projecting the cool badass I felt like on the inside, I was just me. A teenager with Cerebral Palsy, who liked wrestling on top of that, and here I was being teased for both again. There’s a point to this story. I’ve learned and am still learning to be comfortable in my own skin. Seeing my CP in pictures can be hard because I see all the stuff I don’t have control over and have been judged for whether that's you judging me or not. I also know that my lived experience of these moments often feels different on the inside. 

When I did one of my first disability in context talks in February of last year, it was recorded live and on YouTube. My posture is a lot more drooped and my eyes look asleep, but I was so present in that moment and having a completely different internal experience. I don’t always know when it looks like I’m making eye contact to the observer, I don’t always know what emotion is visibly projected because I am in my body all the time. I’m feeling moments and movements as they naturally occur. However, natural movement for me doesn’t match assumptions. 

There’s a large part of me that knows none of this matters, but it has made an impact socially, relationally, and professionally over the years. The fact that I correct my posture when I can because of this one instance when I was eighteen illustrates the power of internalized ableism. I think about this anytime I give a speech or presentation, anytime I know cameras are rolling, and every time I've ever been in a job interview.