Wheeling While Black

As a Black person in America, it comes with a unique set of challenges and experiences, and these challenges are worse when paired with a spinal cord injury and the need for a wheelchair. Living at the intersection of race and disability creates a strange reality that influences every aspect of daily life—from accessing healthcare to experiencing social dynamics to just everyday living.

The journey often begins with the initial shock of the injury itself. For me, it definitely was. For others, it can feel like their identity is abruptly transformed like an Autobot that’s stuck in car mode. The physical limitations and adjustments to life in a wheelchair can be overwhelming. As a Black person in America, there's the added layer of socio-economic disparities and systemic racism that can inflame the difficulties faced post-injury. Access to quality healthcare is a significant concern. Studies consistently show that communities of color, particularly Black Americans, often receive lower quality healthcare compared to their white counterparts. For a newly injured individual, it can mean longer wait times, less compassionate treatment, and difficulties in obtaining necessary rehabilitation resources.

Once the immediate medical needs are addressed, the social ones begin. There's a painful irony in how Black people are invincible and nothing fazes us. In a wheelchair, there are so many vulnerabilities that can make navigating public spaces both physically and emotionally draining. As a Black person in a wheelchair, the experiences of being overlooked, underestimated, or even discriminated against in the “real world” is very common. From retail establishments, hospitals, parks, housing to transportation, the lack of accessibility intersects with ableism and racial bias, creating a maze of obstacles that in reality makes you just want to give up.

Now let’s talk about the lack of representation of Black people with disabilities in media and culture. The demand for visibility is a necessity and not a want. For every public figure with a disability, representation offers hope and validation. But for every black public figure in a wheelchair, it portrays a whole new different type of hope and self-worth.

Self-advocacy becomes a crucial skill to have. Advocacy is not just about fighting for one's rights but also about confronting and dismantling the stigma associated with being both Black and disabled. There is often a need to explain the realities of living with a spinal cord injury not just to able-bodied individuals but also within Black communities that may lack understanding or awareness about disability issues. There is also a need to explain to everyone else what it is like living as a person of color in a wheelchair and the ignorance of some people and their assumptions. This advocacy extends into conversations about intersectionality, where the experiences of race, disability, and class come into play. It becomes essential to create dialogue that encourages empathy and understanding.

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Mental health, we cannot forget to talk about the issue of mental health that looms in the lives of many individuals dealing with both tragedy and identity. The burden of navigating a society that still often prioritizes able-bodied and white-centered experiences can create a hopeless feeling of despair. The lack of mental help towards the African American community is a huge problem. Sometimes its not even a therapist fault, it’s about creating a safe place for the person reaching out and understanding that in the black culture you are told to not let people in your business, pray to God, or here’s my favorite” black people don’t do that”. So, we are facing criticism in our own community.

Amidst all these challenges, there exists a profound resilience. Community is often a source of strength. If I didn’t have my friend Wesley to help me through our shared experience, I would never have been able to navigate life the way I have. Finding shared experiences within friendships, families, and advocacy groups creates powerful bonds that initiate empowerment and healing. Connecting with fellow Black individuals who navigate both racial and physical challenges provides a sense of belonging and the knowledge that you are not alone in this journey.

Living as a Black, wheelchair-bound individual in America can be bearable to navigate if we first don’t give up on ourselves and advocate so those coming behind us will have a better quality of life. Being a SCI wheelchair user isn’t fun and it’s not for the weak but, you can make the best out of it if you try.

About the Author - Tyra Randle

My name is Tyra Randle, and I'm a domestic violence survivor. On January 15 of 2020, I was shot 8 times in my home by my son's father and was left paralyzed. Since then, I have devoted my life to being an advocate for domestic violence survivors as well as the disabled community. Now, as an experienced and esteemed public speaker, Diamond in the Rough aims to deliver education, inspiration and hope to a variety of audiences. I have been featured on Good Morning America, collaborated with "Disabled but not Really," and participated in conferences and webinars. TikTok: @tyinthecity Facebook: Tyra Randle or Diamond In The Rough Instagram: @diamond_inthe_roughKC

Tyra Randle

The opinions expressed in these blogs are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation.

The National Paralysis Resource Center website is supported by the Administration for Community Living (ACL), U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) as part of a financial assistance award totaling $10,000,000 with 100 percent funding by ACL/HHS. The contents are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily represent the official views of, nor an endorsement by, ACL/HHS, or the U.S. Government.