Finding My Own Magic: Reflections on Turning 30 in 2020 and The Power of Resistance
From the very beginning, I’ve always done the unexpected. Nothing in my life ever seems to go exactly according to plan, and after 30 years on this earth, I’ve realized I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I came into this world unexpectedly on Halloween day 1990. My parents were expecting a New Year’s baby, and instead, they got me, a Halloween baby, who would grow to be obsessed with all things magic, spooky, and witchy. I obviously don’t remember my birth, but I imagine it was filled with uncertainty, shock, and a bit of confusion, not only about the present moment but also about what the future held for a tiny, premature, baby girl, unable to even breathe on her own. I have to imagine my parents were at the very least somewhat frightened and caught off guard by my early arrival, but from day one they were my greatest supporters and advocates in the world that was certainly not ready for me or made for me.
They didn’t know it then, but the circumstances of my birth would mean that I would spend my life moving through the world differently than most people. I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy (CP) when I was less than a year old, and CP would define the way I experienced the world for the rest of my life, but I need to tell you now, that that is far from a bad thing.
Growing up visibly physically disabled wasn’t always easy. People often made assumptions and judgments about me without ever taking the time to get to know who I really was. To this day, it is hard to go down the street without being obviously stared at at least once, or seeing somebody whisper to their companions about my existence, but as I inferred above, this isn’t a sad story, and I don’t want you to feel bad for me. In fact, I tell you all this only to explain how I grew into the 30-year-old I am today. I tell you I was bullied and treated differently, only so you understand the beginning of the story, not to make you think my life is anything close to a tragedy.
I was born in the autumn of 1990, just over three months after the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act, or ADA, a law that would greatly define my experience in the world as a disabled person. Growing up though, I was largely unaware that my existence in the body I inhabited meant that I was part of the history and a community that would ultimately change my life.
I was born different for sure, but I was also born with so many privileges, that would ultimately mean I was often protected from the ableism and prejudice of our world, especially as a child, although not completely. Growing up disabled, I often spent many hours wishing to be “normal” or “just like everybody else,” but as I came into adulthood, I learned that everything that made me different was not a weakness but a strength because it helped me see the world differently, and see potential where other people often only saw failure.
Through my disabled identity, I found community, and I found activism. I learned to use my voice, not to drown out anybody else’s story, but to amplify an experience that is often ignored. I learned to turn my shame into pride and to never settle for being treated as less than human simply because I didn’t fit into the dominant narrative. Living at least partially outside the norm of society, taught me to embrace my own strength and magic. I learned that I had the power to make a difference in the world, and change things for the better. I’m writing this today because I think that we all need to access our own magic and rise up to make a difference in our society.
As I begin my 30th year, I am so happy that I am no longer that little girl who wishes for normal, but instead, I am a strong woman who has learned to access the magic within me to make a positive difference in the world. I also now realize that normal, and the limited way that we choose to define it is probably one of the most oppressive constructs because it is intentionally designed to leave so many people out, and make them feel like they are less worthy or less desirable.
What does it mean to be normal, and who does the never-ending quest for normality that so many of us are engaged in really benefit anyway?
In the midst of a global pandemic, our focus should never be about returning to “normal,” but instead questioning who defined what was normal, who benefited, and who was left out. We have an opportunity to challenge oppressive constructs that often define our society, and work together to create a more equitable world.
Magic is the power to change things. At its core, magic is believing in your ability to make a difference, and being willing to go against the norm or what is expected of you. Magic means resisting the urge to accept the status quo, and using your power to fight for a better, more just, and more equitable future.
Today and every day, I encourage you to think about the changes you want to see in the world. I encourage you to think about your role in bringing about that change, and I hope you will reflect on how you can use your magic to create a better future.
Personally, I want to see a world where we actively fight to dismantle systematic oppression instead of upholding it.
I want to see a world where living in a body like mine is never seen as a bad thing, but instead part of the beautiful diversity that makes us who we are.
I want to see a world where the little girl that I once was never feels like she is simply a broken version of normal, but instead is taught to embrace everything that makes her who she is, and encouraged not only by her family, but also by the society around her, to find her power and magic, and use it for good.
