Human First
When Hillary Clinton ran for president in 2016, a local Spectrum reporter reached out to me and asked me to share my thoughts about the broader women’s rights movement. Over the years, I have connected widely with the local media through my advocacy work, so news platforms often reach out to me and ask for my thoughts on community events. I responded by telling the reporter: “I don’t think a lot about being a woman and women’s rights issues because I have spent all my time in the community telling people that I am a human being, and they should treat me like one.”
As a woman with a disability, I have found that most people focus on the chair instead of the person in the chair. People treat me like a statue in a museum or pat me on the head like a dog. These situations always catch me off guard, and I am never sure how to respond. During another interview that I did for a Women of Color March and Rally, a local news reporter asked me why I do disability advocacy work. I told the reporter: “I do this work because even today, I must tell people that it is not okay to put your feet, your hands, and your belongings on my wheelchair”. I frequently encounter people that find it acceptable to stand on the back of my chair, or to lean on it as if I were a leaning post. If I call them out on these actions, I am often made to feel like I am in the wrong. In these moments, I take a breath and go about my day, but it usually doesn’t take long before I encounter ableism again.
As a disability advocate, I still must go out in the community and initiate conversations with people about ableism. Even when I have gone to human rights rallies where we are supposed to be advocating for the inclusion of all, I have noticed that everyone’s version of inclusion seems to exclude someone. I enjoy what I do professionally as an advocate, but it can get a bit tiring having to educate non-disabled people wherever I go. Doing it in professional training is one thing. Educating people becomes a different experience when I need to do it out in public, while I am trying to enjoy my day and live my life. Most days, I have no problem talking to people, no matter where I am or what I am doing. I take issue with the people that act as if I owe them something, or as if I need to conform to their desire to turn me into their good deed for the day.
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I have found that in my twenty years of leading disability awareness training, one of the first questions I get asked is: “Do you prefer to be called a person with a disability or disabled?” While I understand the point of this question, it has always seemed odd to me. In my head, my response to this question is, “Well, my name is Shameka.” I frequently change the way that I identify myself. Sometimes, I say that I am a person with a disability, and sometimes I say that I am disabled. While it seems important to others, my identity label is not something that is significant to me. I feel that there are more important issues and injustices related to the disability community to talk about.
People with disabilities are not all the same, even though some people would like to categorize us into a neat little box to understand our lives. Even though I love the conversations that I initiate in my professional advocacy work, I sometimes pray for the day when these conversations become unnecessary. I hope that someday, people will honor my lived experience and remember I am human first before anything else.
Author’s Bio: Shameka Andrews is the Community Outreach Coordinator for the Self Advocacy Association of New York State. She is also the founder of Disability Empowerment Consulting, where she provides disability workshops on self-care, self-advocacy, and disability awareness. In 2006, she won the title of Ms. Wheelchair NY, and she has been the coordinator of the program since 2013.