​Becoming My Own Roll-Model

My first ever journey into activism was in fifth grade. 

I remember organizing with a group of my fellow students to protest the removal of our juice boxes and the subsequent replacement with chocolate milk. Ever since then, I have been a loud and proud person. Passion was my middle name. I was one of the only kids in my rural high school with bright hair and a loud voice, fighting against injustices in between taking classes.

When I started college at Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), I was beyond excited. I could finally be in a place with fellow loud and proud people. I walked in, feeling like I belonged. However, when I leave, I will be rolling out, knowing I helped make other students on campus feel like they also belonged there.

I became a wheelchair user in my first year of college, seemingly out of nowhere. I got diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder, which brought on rare comorbidities that affected my spinal cord. For the first time in eight years, I felt my voice waver. I toned myself down and quieted my voice, unsure how to adjust to a world that was not made for me. I had started at RIT dreaming of things like studying abroad. When I began using a wheelchair, I thought my life and all my dreams were ruined. I couldn't imagine living my whole life like this.

At the time, RIT didn’t have a club or group of any type for disabled students. We had only recently gotten a disabled Director of Disability Services. Any time I had researched the term “wheelchair” with “RIT,” old articles remarking on the inaccessibility had come up — inaccessibility that had not been made better years later when I read them. I knew something needed to change.

It was at this point in my journey that the COVID-19 pandemic hit. I was stranded on campus for more time than I knew what to do with. With this abundance of free time, I decided it was time to change things, not only for myself, but for others. I embraced my colorful hair, dyeing it on the floor of my dorm room, and started the journey to gain back my passion in any way that I could.

In my second year here, I joined student government, landing a job as a committee chair where I could directly influence campus and its accessibility. I joined the group that plans new student orientation, writing and creating programming to make it accessible and to teach my coworkers how to better accommodate disabled students. However, even as I joined these parts of campus that broadcasted their diversity and inclusion, I struggled. Accommodations weren’t commonplace. Even on “fun” off-campus work retreats, I had to fight to be included as my coworkers swam in pools at the bottom of grassy hills with no paths and whitewater kayakers. I sat atop the hills, looking out over them alone.