Written by Daphne Frias, 21, NY
Year after year, as I watched footage of mass shootings continuing to break out in this country I was outraged. However, I never believed one person could be enough to make a difference on an issue that seemed to have no end in sight. That all changed for me on February 14, 2018 — the day of the Marjory Stoneman Douglas (MSD) High School shooting in Parkland, Florida. When the news broke of this tragedy, I was sitting on my bed in my college dorm. The image of horrified students running for their lives will never leave my mind. I hopped off my bed and immediately locked my door as to somehow provide a subconscious reassurance for my safety. Unlike other tragedies , I did not run onto social media to send my “thoughts & prayers.” There was a numbness that layed in my heart. The duality of my fear mixed with the immobilization of my emotions, stirred a rage in me. I hated that my country had conditioned me to expect the deaths of my generation over and over again.
My brother was in high school the morning of the shooting. I couldn't help, but think how close we could have been to a tragedy of our own. His high school was littered with metal detectors, only furthering a false sense of security. This was just another example of how our government continues to put band-aids on the issue of gun violence. Instead of combating the issue head on, it is somehow seen as a better alternative to our school into de facto prisons. A school is not safe, a club is not safe , a theatre is not safe, a football game is not safe. Our generation is not safe.
Over the next few weeks, I was glued to the news. I watched as the student survivors of MSD did not hide their rage over what had happened in their school. For too long adults looked down upon the importance of young voices in this country. It was then that I felt the tides turning. The adults of this country were not just listening, they were captivated. When the #NeverAgain movement grew into March For Our Lives, I knew I had to attend the march. I scoured the internet to find the nearest march to where my college town was located. That happened to be an hour away in Syracuse, NY. I immediately felt defeated, believing that there was no way for me to get there without wheelchair accessible transportation.
At the age of three, I was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy. For about the first eight years of my life I was able to walk with the help of leg braces and a walker. In 2007, I fractured a piece of my knee. After getting out of my leg cast I was left without any ability to walk. For the next three years I was in and out of the hospital; including two rounds of inpatient rehab to help regain my mobility. Thanks to my amazing healthcare team I was able to recover some of my ability to walk. However, it was not the same as before. Walking for long distances exerted a lot of energy. Although controversial to some, I decided to become a full wheelchair user in order to ambulate. Psychologically, this switch was very difficult for me. I had to admit to myself, that I believed that in order to be successful I had to be able to walk. Over time I was able to overcome this false notion with the help of my friends and family. My presence spoke for itself, not the way I chose to move around life.
During that moment of aforementioned defeat, I had to dig down and remember the struggles that younger me had faced. The only obstacles that could stop me were the ones that I allowed to get in my way. I knew then that I would figure out a way to get to Syracuse. In speaking to my friends, I realized that many of them were interested in going to the March as well. Ten friends quickly turned into almost a hundred through word of mouth. I was quickly tasked with securing transportation for all of us. I spent sleepless hours calling coach bus companies. During many of these phone calls we had enough money for the buses we needed, but the moment I expressed the need for a lift the price went up. I was beyond frustrated and soon felt like a burden to all my friends who wanted to attend. Why should my mobility, something I have no control over , be a way for a company to make a little extra cash? I had to haggle with these companies to get the prices lower. While doing so, I felt like I was fighting to validate myself and why I wanted to be apart of this movement. It was a degrading experience.
Finally, I found a company that only charged us the standard price for the bus. Although, I am still crushed that I did not get to attend because I ended up getting pneumonia; but all my efforts were not in vain. On the way back, there was a young girl who used a walker. The person who she came with could not stay and she had no way of getting home. Because of the ramp on the bus, we were able to get that young girl home. When my friends came back and told me this story, my heart was filled with so much joy. It made me realize that my fight for accessibility in activism was bigger than myself.
Through the last year I have been given the privilege of speaking at many rallies and marches as well as organizing my own. At many of these events travel ends up being a consistent struggle. Accessible transportation is often an afterthought. In events that I’ve organized, I’ve often have had to forego ramps for staging because prices almost double at there inclusion.
In the world of activism, organizations often preach about inclusivity and intersectionality. Today, I want to remind those organizations and fellow activists that intersectionality goes beyond race and gender, but demands the inclusion of varied abilities as well. If we all were to stop and take a second at look at the board members of the most popular organizations, very few of them include a staff member whose sole responsibility is to create accessible accommodations. I must emphasize however, it is simply not enough to hire someone to fill this position, but it is imperative that this person be disabled themselves. We are capable and we a deserve a spot in creating change. If we were all to make this change in our organizations, it would pressure companies to lower the cost of accessible equipment. The use of this equipment would no longer be an exception, but an expectation. If you are an organizer ,the next time you plan an event, I implore you to think about the following: Do you have route marshalls to help guide disabled people through the crowd? Do you have interpreters signing the words of your speakers? Do you have ramps attached to your staging? Have you planned alternate travel routes? Have you provided transportation for people of varied mobilities?
In my activism, I fight for and represent many groups of people. I understand that I have a huge responsibility represent the entire disabled community. I know that I can take a stand without having to stand and will keep on fighting until the inclusion of all abilities is the norm.
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