Dear University,

I was supposed to start my last year of college this month. Instead, I left university. What lead me to this decision was fighting the administration of my school for more than two years about preserving accommodations set in place during the pandemic for students such as myself who were directly or indirectly impacted by COVID-19 in way that prevented them from returning to traditional college life. I realized in that time that the pandemic gave institutions, including my school, a chance to pretend that they cared about vulnerable members of their community and then quickly forget about them. At the beginning of the pandemic, it seemed that maybe this crisis might change how people viewed Disability and chronic illness and we could come out the other side with more empathy and more accessibility. Instead, it seems that return to normal means return to ableism.

Students of all ages were affected by COVID. For students who already had stressors in their lives such as being at high-risk for severe illness, being a caregiver, losing family members to Covid, or struggling financially the effect was more dramatic. This stress is clear in numbers of students who left college early on in the pandemic. In fall 2019 2.6 million students started college in the US. 26.1% of them did not return in fall 2020.[1]

When my university transitioned to remote learning in 2020, I thought it was going to save me. My mother had been diagnosed with cancer, and I had my own health issues to deal with. With access to distance learning I could deal with all that and get a degree. The school was telling students that it had invested a lot of money in technology for remote learning and to accommodate students’ needs. I believed them, but soon found out that all the promises were short-lived.

After one semester of online learning, the university was ready to go back to “normal.” I learned from speaking with other students with chronic illnesses and other needs that the decision to abandon remote learning so suddenly made them feel forgotten. Even though we had been promised accessible learning through the crisis, the end of the crisis was decided by someone’s opinion; someone who failed to consider the people whose crisis was nowhere near over.

Like many students who were hesitant or physically unable to come back to campus, I felt  pressured by the administration. One of the ways they did this was to inform me that I could not receive support from the school remotely. If I needed any kind of support with my studies or otherwise I could only get this when I returned to campus. This was impossible for me at the time- being in another country with a sick parent to care for during a global pandemic. Throughout the last two years in school, I was not included in class discussions, and there was more than one day when I sat at a blank screen when the professor forgot about me or did not bother turning on the computer that day.

My school was aware of my personal circumstances. In response to my many emails over the years I received the same automated email saying I should really “try harder” to get back to in-person learning. With all the tragedy that came with covid, we also had an opportunity to change for the better when it comes to access to school and work. This was also illustrated by the “mass-disabling” event Covid is. It is estimated that Long Covid is keeping up to 4 million Americans out of work.[3]

It is sad that despite all the promises early on in the pandemic, the return to normal somehow justifies the return to ableist attitudes. The idea behind accessibility is that all people can be included. In terms of remote working and learning, those who are not interested in that option are not forced to use it while people who depend on that option can use it with great benefit for everyone involved. Allowing me to continue to use remote learning could have saved my degree, but my university’s response to the “end of the pandemic” took that away. We should have seen that we were doing something good in paying more attention to accessibility and inclusion but instead it seems that the people in charge were never sincere about changing things. They were just happy when they could go back to the way things were without considering those of us who will never be able to do that.


[1] https://hechingerreport.org/more-students-are-dropping-out-of-college-during-covid-and-it-could-get-worse/

[3] https://www.forbes.com/sites/williamhaseltine/2022/09/02/long-covid-is-keeping-millions-of-people-out-of-work/?sh=4939f2d952cc

Disability Pride Series: Conclusion?

July is coming to an end. Just because Disability Pride Month will be over, doesn’t mean that people with disabilities should stop talking, advocating and educating. On the contrary.

This July was my first pride month, acknowledging my disabilities, writing about them and engaging with the disability community online. I was inspired by what I saw and read. I hope that one person might have read my posts and felt something similar.

During this month I have also engaged with stories and experiences of the negative sides. The reasons why people are unable to be proud of who they are with their disability. Stories of abuse and ignorance and experiences that highlight how inaccessible the rest of the world can really be. It is precisely because of this that we have to keep our voices loud. Every month of the year.

I don’t feel pride in myself every day. In fact, there are still more days a week where I feel like a burden and a sense of shame about my differences than there are days where I feel confident to live without trying to hide. But being able to see the way other people embrace every part of themselves makes me feel less alone.

Disability rights and accessibility has a LONG way to go. It is difficult to feel proud when every day you are put down in one way or another, whether it be the simple inability to get somewhere or participate in something due to inaccessibility or actual bullying or ignorant comments from another person. It can feel like the whole world is against you. And that makes it so hard to claim your place in it and claim it with pride. And yet so many people have done so and keep on trying to do so every single day despite all the challenges. Those are the people I look up to and hope to be one day.

July is over but my journey of self acceptance is only just beginning. Good luck on yours.

Disability Pride Series: For the Future Me’s

I wish that I hadn’t grown up with “disability” being a word attached to so much fear. For a long time I thought it referred to people unfortunate enough to have been born unable to do things I did like run or go to school. I now see that everything I thought disability was was wrong. I now know that it is a broad spectrum encompassing so many beautiful and diverse people with so many different abilities and ways of life.

We need to shout about disabled pride for the future. For the children who might learn about disability and differences in a positive way rather than a negative and frightening one. For the people who will develop disability as young adults or teenagers and not feel ashamed or out of place. So that those children don’t need to fear ignorance and bullying and isolation from others and from themselves. My life would have played out differently if someone had educated my family and friends. If they weren’t still scared to death of the phrase “disability,” I wouldn’t have to keep pretending things were okay when they weren’t. I wouldn’t have to push myself to unbearable physical and mental pain to be what they believed I should be. I could just be me.

I hope that in the future, there will be an even greater openness around help. Medical devices, mobility aids, stim toys, you name it. All the things so many people rely on just to live their lives. Today many people, including myself, feel a sense of shame around these things. I keep them a secret as much as possible. I feel that they are wrong. That I am wrong when I use them. And it shouldn’t be that way. We should celebrate all the different innovations that have made life possible for so many different people and all that they are now able to bring to the world.

Disability Pride Month is important to me for the future me’s. For those girls who might not have to hide their pains and can ask for assistance without shame and without backlash. Young people who are believed by everyone around them and embraced in any alternative ways they have to get by in their world. Whether that be with medicines, wheelchairs, caretakers or anything else. I hope that when those future young people are here, their families are no longer scared of the word “disabled” and accept an open and accessible world for all. I wish for there not to be more me’s soon enough. That they can instead feel loved and in turn love themselves. Proudly.