For so many years I never fully accepted, let alone viewed the image of me staring from the mirror positively. I purposely refused to be in pictures, and selfies, physically cringing at the thought of how I would look like.  I lived each day filled with a hidden dread that all of my flaws would be placed under a microscope and then displayed. I socially distanced myself choosing to only accept invitations from those whom I trusted because I was tired of endless disappointments and tears.

From a young age I realized that there was no one similar to me, in my family, in my friend group, in school and in my immediate community. As an avid reader, I did not find books about people like me. Going out in public was a nightmare as each stare would penetrate deep into my core, closing my heart. During recess and P.E, classes I sat on the sidelines fighting back tears as I longed to be included in every exercise, and fun activity. 

The only two accommodations I asked for were to be released from classes five minutes before the end so I could make it fairly on time for the next class and to release me from the required P.E. classes and receive the needed to graduate.  While attending University I made sure that my dorm room was always on the first floor, a routine which continued as I pursued my two masters degrees.

When I began my teaching career, I was instantly struck by the harsh reality that my physical disability defined me negatively. I had to constantly prove myself and my abilities so that I could secure the job that I wanted. Not driving a car only exacerbated my isolation and my self-esteem dwindled. Surprisingly, the only job offered to me was in a special education functional skills class for emotionally challenged adolescents as they were the only school that looked beyond my disability. I then embarked on a successful career within the international school system and taught in Moscow Russia, London England culminating in Helsinki Finland. 

All the while I selflessly advocated for my students to be included in all classes and fought antiquated systems designed to hold them back. I learned through practice and persistence to look for allies who felt the same and it was with them that I engaged in co-teaching and planning.

One would think that this would enable me to envision and experience a better life for myself.. but this took time, great resilience and the support of true friends who embraced me before I could.

 I was scrolling on social media, about 3 years ago today and came across a post highlighting the disability Pride flag. This immediately sparked my interest as I had never seen or heard about this before, let alone imagine this. So I began to explore this unknown world with sudden excitement that surprised me to the point that I felt tingles down my spine, goosebumps, and I swore that my ridged sore toes were dancing.

Below is a summary of what I uncovered:

“Ann Magill, a writer with cerebral palsy, was in grad school when ADA became law in July 1990…found she had a knack for flagging injustices,   She visualized making a disability pride flag and, finally, was fiercely motivated to do so following a horrific attack on a disabled-serving facility in Japan in 2016. The first pride flag is pictured below along with a description.