Powered by Context: Life, Leadership, and Librarianship with a Disability
I was a 10-year youth ministry professional. I have surpassed 10 years as a library professional. I've done just about everything in my field, from the front desk to the director's chair. I've been promoted, have been recruited, I've been let go from ministry, and rebuilt with astounding fashion in libraries. Also, I am the product of familial dysfunction, the son of an alcoholic and a drug addict, and I live with a disability every day. All of that comes to work with me whether I want it to or not. There's no off switch for disability or complex trauma. It's there usually in the background, fighting for the foreground, and I have to find the balance every minute of the day.
I went into youth ministry, silently because I could physically do the job and openly because I had a firm belief in the mission and theology of what it meant to show people that they were worthy of love because I've never believed that I am. Ministry was my learning ground for how to become professional because I didn't know anything about that and how to manage my visible and invisible identities in the workplace. There were a lot of ups and downs. Ultimately it didn't work out because I wasn't hitting my stats and under delivering on expectations. I'm not here to quibble with that today, but that one little thing left a very big imprint.
After ministry, I didn't want to do it anymore, and I needed a fresh start. Someone told me my local library was hiring for an entry-level position. Professionally, that was a step backwards for me and incredibly humbling. However, the skills you learn in one field can serve you in the next and they do every day. I went from the front door to a director's chair inside of 5 years. I've made several moves within my library career, all with upward trajectories in one form or fashion. I rebuilt. Not without pain. Not without heartache. Not without grinding every single day. I have managed over 60 people in my professional life. I have managed millions of dollars. I have managed high-level projects. And, I've done all of that navigating my invisible and visible identities of living with a disability and complex trauma.
“So knowing all of that, what do you wish the leaders in your life had understood? What would have changed?”
I can't turn my identities off. I've been disabled since I was born. Technically, I died in my first minute of life and had to be resuscitated. I had multiple surgeries by the age of 5. I've endured unimaginable cruelties because of how I walk. I learned to be afraid of authority at a young age. Whether that authority was my parents, other adult figures, or the Church. The bar was never set for me to excel in the ways that I have. No one expected me to ever work a day. Also, the people that doubted what I could or couldn't do, the people that questioned the extent of my disability didn't really see me. They didn't get it. I don't overtly tell people all day long what I can and can't do. I just show up and do what is in front of me. If I can't do it, eventually I'll ask for help, but I'm going to try first, and that's how I found myself dangling off the side of a mountain at one point in time. At the end of the day, I just want my efforts and my work to be good enough for you so that I can have the absolute basics in life. I want to be able to provide for my kids and make sure they don't have to go without as many things as I did. For myself, I just want to be able to buy coffee and food, and have a safe place to sleep at night. My dreams have never been truly inspiring and motivating. Survival does that to you sometimes. I wish I could change the way I help people understand what's hard for me and what's not. Little by little, I'm getting better at the self-awareness it takes to be able to do that, but that's insanely difficult in the moment.
“When a leader assumes instead of asks, what does that communicate to you about how they see you?”
They don't. When people make assumptions, they don't see me. That's not limited to leaders, that's everybody in my past, present and future history. Most of the time it's well-meaning people trying to take care of me or tell me what I need to do to take care of myself. In one breath telling me to rest and in another I'm being asked to do more. Assumptions don't help anybody. It's okay to ask me what I need, in fact, I'd prefer that you did.
“There's a version of you that had to navigate scrutiny professionally, manage your own responses, balance what you needed internally against what others expected of you externally. What was the cost of that? And what kept you from losing yourself in it?”
The cost is daily. The cost is the mask that has been required at many phases of life, both personally and professionally, to make others more comfortable with who I am. I lost myself in the mask for many years. I figured I was the problem. Not how people around me were able to see me or not see me. It's taken me many, many years to be willing to tell these stories openly, to tiptoe around the wounds, and have the vulnerability to let people know what it's really like to navigate my visible disability and my invisible trauma.
“Walk us through what it looks like when someone gets it right. What did they say, how did they say it, and what did that make possible for you?”
The people that get it right are the people that simply ask me, “what do you need right now?” The ones who aren't afraid to acknowledge what's in the room with me. In my experience, a lot of people get uncomfortable pretty quickly when I start talking about the painful things that I've gone through, like my parent's addictions, my mom's overdose, the deaths of both of my parents, having the distinct displeasure of checking all three of my immediate family members in for psych holds, and wondering silently to myself. “How did that not happen to me?” The people that get it right, love who I am, and want me to be myself more than they want me to be the mask. It's holding space for the mess of the reel. I didn't choose most of the things that I've experienced, and I don't necessarily choose how they show up in my day-to-day at work, in life, and so on and so forth. I've made plenty of poor decisions out of trauma responses. On the other hand, some of my trauma responses are superpowers professionally. Hyper vigilance has kept me alive at times. It also makes me readily aware of when there's a situation going on at work that I need to step into, regardless of what I'm in the middle of.
“So what does it mean to lead people who are carrying that same invisible tax?”
We all carry something. We don't all carry the same thing. That's an important reminder when it comes to disabilities. I have cerebral palsy. There are multiple different categories and subcategories of cerebral palsy. My story is uniquely mine. Each person with a disability has their own story and their experiences may differ from mine. It's important to know that so that we don't all get lumped into groups. It's also important to know that so that you treat each person's experience with the respect that it deserves. I don't mind when people ask me questions about my disability, in fact, I encourage it in an open dialogue. Other people may not want you to do that. You can find that out by simply asking the question of people. “What do you need right now?” They'll let you know whether or not they want to be asked more questions or they don't. It's important to respect what people tell you and what they don't. You don't want to have informed conversations about disability in the workplace without disabled people in the conversation. Likewise, you don't want to have informed conversations about trauma in the workplace without trauma survivors. Yet, you can't lump all the stories into one and hope for a great outcome if you're not taking context into account for the stories that are being told and the people that are telling them. Also, disclosure is not required and employers legally cannot probe you with questions about your disability. Disability discrimination is also illegal. That doesn't stop it from happening but it's important for employees and employers to be aware of those rights.
“You've led people. You've been on both sides of this. What do you know now about the people you've managed or served that you wish you'd known how to ask about sooner?”
Leading people is difficult. While I've done it a lot, every person is different and so the leadership style I need to use with each of them is too. Having been on both sides of this, my goal is to make space for people to be themselves. That takes time because I think people naturally don't believe that you mean it. I think that kind of thing can get weaponized and so people might hesitate. The hard part for me in doing that is that if I'm going to ask people to have the opportunity to show up as who they are, I have to do it too. I'm still learning how to lead every day. I'm still learning how to manage my own stuff every day. Some days are better than others. I appreciate the opportunity to lead any person I've ever worked with because they've all taught me something.
Leading people is also interesting with a disability for me because the older I get, I'm working with people that are younger than me, faster than me, and sometimes people that can do the job better than me. Most days, I'm working my tail off in order to keep up. I also work hard to set an example. I also work hard to overcome those past wounds where I was told I wasn't enough. But I have no doubt, that the people around me who see me working hard have to know that if I'm going to work that hard I expect them to as well. At the same time, I also really encourage my team members to take care of themselves, probably more than I do that for myself.
“Is there anything else you feel is important to talk about before we close?”
I'd be remiss not to mention the importance of seeking the help you need. There's no shame in getting help for your physical needs. If you have a disability. There's no shame in getting help for your mental health. As a trauma survivor, I've done everything from self-help books, to 12-step programs for dysfunctional families, to professional therapy. It's okay to get help. I wouldn't be functioning in the professional world as well as I am today without seeking help. If you're disabled and you need resources, look to your community ADA resources, check out the various research and support groups for specific disabilities. Know this, you're not alone. There are communities and professionals out there who can get you the help you need.
Special thanks to A. Stern for the question prompts in this post. Special thanks to all the people who came to a live version of this at the Connecticut Library Association Conference in April 2026.
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