Today, October 6th, is World Cerebral Palsy Day.
Did you know that if you put all 17 million of us together, we’d make up almost the entire population of the Netherlands? Imagine … what would it be like if we all just started our own country together? (We’d allow people without CP to live there too, of course—we love inclusion!) What a beautifully accessible place that would be. I’m imagining a utopia of curb cuts and perfectly placed handrails—always with working elevators as an alternative to stairs, of course. And I’d vote to make escalators illegal in this great nation of ours. Kidding, sort of.
For most of my life, I have thought of my CP as something I needed to fight and rise above—not as something to celebrate.
But now, I ask … what if we choose instead to love this part of who we are? What if we choose to work with our disability instead of working against it—to explore what it has given us instead of focusing solely on what it has taken from us?
I’ll leave you with this message I shared on CP Day a few years ago:
Today, I am celebrating my CP family and all the people in my life who love me just the way I am.
Sometimes people tell me that after they’ve gotten to know me, they forget I have CP. I appreciate their intentions, but here’s the thing:
I love when you remember.
It means everything to me when we’re walking together and you match your pace with mine … when you lend a hand as we approach a curb … when you ask questions (respectfully) because you’re curious about how CP affects me.
I am so much more than my CP, but it is an incurable—and beautiful—part of who I am.
And when you remember,
I know you see that too.
I love this and I love you! It reminds me of Tonia’s “Love, CP” poem. Something I’ve found so complex in my personal disability journey is that there are absolutely aspects of my disabilities that are intrinsically painful or difficult or what have you, at the same time as I understand how much of what’s hard is made hard (or made hardER) by society. I would love to live in your CP country where the elevators and automatic door openers always work <3
Love you too, friend! So much of what I write–and how I feel about disability and community and friendship–reminds me of Tonia and all that I learned from her.
And agreed … there are most definitely hard parts about having a disability (I was thinking about that when I wrote, “What if we choose to … explore what it has given us instead of focusing solely on what it has taken from us?” because there ARE things that it takes from us, and sometimes we NEED to focus on that or acknowledge it or wallow in a day of self-pity). But as you say, so many of those hard parts would be easier in a more accessible society.
I would love for you to join me in a CP Land! <3 It has been so lovely to get to know you and to be part of a community with you.
Couldn’t have said it better myself. Thank you for this 🙂
I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment, Kristine! Thank you!!
Kerry, its such a journey to learn to love and accept our disabilities as something positive, when the world has shaped us in so many ways to believe otherwise. I am so glad you have started to rewrite your own narrative. I think Tonia, especially, would be proud of your growth and celebrating with you today.
Thank you, Alyssa! That means a lot. It’s definitely a journey–one that Tonia helped me with tremendously. <3
Thank you for sharing xo
Thank you for reading! 🙂
Can I run for office in the CP country?! I know I can’t be president probably but I would settle for Secretary of State or something. Would for sure sign off on the escalators ban. Truly, who needs those mfs? Also, isn’t that such a weird “compliment” when people say that? I never know what to say lmao bc it’s like it could not for one second be me forgetting I have my diagnosis. Like can u imagine? 😂 Anyway, I love the response about loving when it’s remembered. All of the little things people can do to make our existences that much easier. Ur the best. I love you and your CP always! 🩵