Christmas may not look the same for me now that I’m blind, but it means even more than it used to. My memories of the season are blurred around the edges – the powder-white world is a little more grey, the sparkle of stars a little less bright – and while the lights of the…
I have a confession to make: I am a bitter disabled person. The media’s portrayal of people with disabilities had me believing that I’d forever be classified as either inspirational simply for existing, or pitied for being a helpless, worst-case scenario come to life. Add social media to the mix as a young adult, and…
I received my first Bible when I was seven years old. It arrived book by book as each volume was produced in Braille. The first were the Gospel of Matthew and Acts of the Apostles, and I read them voraciously until the next ones arrived. When they did, I stood back and gazed admiringly at…
When a close friend began to follow the teachings of a faith healing ministry in Texas, I was guarded and suspicious. I had a vague idea of what they would say – that disability was the result of sin and if you prayed hard enough, you could be healed – but I was shocked by…
Ableism had left its mark on my disabled body long before I knew its name. As hard as I scrubbed, I couldn’t rid myself from the sticky residue on my skin, or remove the thorn that pierced clear through to my bones. It was a part of me as much as Jesus was, but I…
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