December 3rd. A once ordinary day, that is now one of the busiest in my calendar. If you’re reading this, scratching your head, wondering what on earth you’ve missed on December 3rd, don’t stress. The date didn’t mean anything to me either, until a few years ago. December 3rd is recognised globally as International Day of Persons with Disabilities, or IDPWD for short. Its aim is to recognise and celebrate the contributions made and lives enjoyed by the rich and vibrant disabled community. It’s also an excellent day for getting space and airtime to talk about the challenges we face as a group in society that is still extremely marginalised and often deeply maligned.
I’ve spent 22 years (read: my entire life) navigating the world as a disabled person. Growing up without anyone who looked like me as a point of reference, other than Paralympic athletes, which in all honesty, sets you up with a pretty narrow idea of what your future might look like. You either become an elite athlete training and sacrificing so much, existing as a vessel for inspiration every four years, or you sit inside looking sad, existing as a representative of the terrible consequences of a careless driving decision.
Those were the narratives visible to me about my own life. Narratives that are damaging, reductive and flawed. It’s only over the last few years, through the tireless work of so many advocates and activists, that those narratives are finally being shelved in favour of more inclusive and joyous ones. It should tell you everything you need to know about how much disability is given the spotlight that I as a disabled person literally didn’t know IDPWD existed, until a few years ago.
If you’re wondering how I did eventually find out, it was through Twitter. Twitter, for all its venomous ills is, as it turns out, the meeting place for a wonderful passionate group of disabled humans who use that platform to openly share stories about their lives, curate joy and have taught me so much about my own identity as a disabled person. I honestly don’t think I would be the advocate and activist that I am, without the wonderful examples that have flourished there.
Those moments of finding out that this day existed are almost unexplainable in what they felt like and meant to me. I couldn’t help but wonder how much easier the process of learning to accept myself and growing to be proud of my place in this world as a disabled woman might have been if this had been a day I grew up celebrating.
How would my life have been different if everything wasn’t such a chaotic struggle and scream to be heard? What if I had seen and been taught that joy in a disabled life was not only possible, but something I (and every disabled person) deserve?
It’s one of those what-ifs of life; we all have them, those moments that pass in front of our eyes like sliding doors. I can only hope that the next generation of disabled kids get to experience an easier road than I did. One that is more welcome and open to them, their needs and dreams. But that can only happen if our perspectives as the disabled community are given more space and time to be heard than just this day. It’s all well and good to be an ally when it’s aesthetic and trendy – when you’re ticking a box – but I have to ask you; if you’re really interested in being an ally to our community, what are you doing on the 364 other days that we need you?
Hannah Diviney
Hannah Diviney is a writer and disability advocate from Sydney, Australia. She's also the Editor-in-Chief of Missing Perspectives. You can follow Hannah's adventures on Instagram and Twitter.