Finally.

I was not the token wheelchair guy in the room. The scene? A national conference in Atlanta focused on the study of disabilities. The audience? Wonderfully diverse. Riding in one of the elevators after sessions on the first morning, I was joined by four other participants: a fellow chair-user, a blind woman and her guide dog, and two women with walkers. When the doors closed, I said, “Get a load of us!” One of the women with a walker replied, “Someone left the door to the rehab hospital open.” Everyone laughed.

It was such a relief.

The study of disability carries with it an acknowledgment that disability exists, that I exist, and I have issues. And that these issues merit examination and amelioration. That I have a right to access the world, whenever and wherever. In so many situations, both social and professional, I’ve dealt with deal-breakers: two steps, obstructed pathways, inaccessible bathrooms.

That conference challenged me and strengthened me. Why had I taken so long to affiliate with other advocates and allies? I don’t have an easy answer. There’s a little self-loathing involved, I think. Definitely judgment. And pain.

Friends, it’s a brave new world out there. And now I place myself in it.