I am temporarily crippled. Due to a car accident a few years ago and a recent follow-up surgery, I have been non-weight bearing on my right foot for six weeks.

This is not exactly unfamiliar to me. Right after my accident two years ago I was non-weight bearing on my left foot, right foot, and left arm. Simultaneously. I was in a wheelchair for 3 months. It’s not as bad as it sounds. People give you lots of attention, presents, snacks, tell you you’re pretty, etc. It really had its perks! But one of the downsides (aside from being unable to move, of course) is the stranger stares. Anytime I would go out in public I was a constant eye target. While I understand people’s curiosity, it was not a comfortable feeling, even for someone like myself who normally wants to be the center of attention in just about every situation! Anyway, there are a few different types of stares that I received:

1. Open-mouthed, drooling, dead-eyed, blatant staring

2. Staring until I’ve caught them staring, then a quick, uncomfortable look-away

3. Staring until we make eye contact, then a HUGE SMILE.

Everyone in the entire world falls under one of these stare categories. EVERYONE.*

I’ll admit, I was a smile-starer before all of this. I went out of my way to smile at disabled people to let them know that I accepted them just the way they are. I have learned that this does not work. I do love smiles, and I am a smiley person in general, but when people go out of their way to lock eyes with me and give me a toothy smile, I want to punch them in the nuts. When they smile at me, this is what I hear: “It’s okay, I know everyone else thinks you are a freak but I am really accepting of freaks and I think you are just fine the way you are!” These extra-obnoxious smiles make me feel like a baby. I used to take them and give a light smile back. But I’ve learned. Now, when I get a huge smile, I give a HUGE SMILE right back to show them how ridiculous they look. Sometimes they get it, sometimes they don’t.

Anyway, now I am crippled again, but not quite as severely. I only have to keep one foot off the ground. Thanks to my parents and the hospital staff, I was set up with a scooter instead of a wheelchair or crutches. This is not a mobilized Rascal scooter, but a lightweight, compact scooter with a knee rest, handle bars, and handbrakes that I scoot around on with my good foot. Here is a picture of my friend Maggie on my first scooter (before the handlebars popped off.)

This is my current scooter:

It has been great. I can finally beat my friends in a race, I can show off and do donuts in parking lots, and if I’m feeling like a real princess I can put both my legs up and have my boyfriend push me instead. 

But I’m getting the stares again. This time they’re a little bit different because I can see people are more curious. I can see their questions. But for the most part they do not ask questions, they just stare. So they do not get answers. Usually.

*So I lied earlier about everyone staring. There are some beautiful exceptions. Some people just don’t notice or care. To all of you: thank you and I love you. Some people look and are genuinely curious, so they ask. For the most part, these people are respectful and do not talk down to me, so I answer. Some of them, however, treat me like a baby. “What haaaaappened?? Awwwwww.” They’re probably trying to be sweet but they make me want to barf on the sidewalk and hope that some of my puke splashes on their shoes. After months of feeling obligated to please them and answer their questions, I have learned that I do not owe them anything, so I say “SURGERY” and scoot away.

There are two stranger encounters that are memorable to me. The first was with a guy about my age. I was scooting past him and he opened a door for me and simply said, “That thing looks like it would be pretty badass if you didn’t have to use it.” Yes, Guy! My thoughts exactly. You are not nosy! Thank you and I love you. The secondmemorable stranger encounter happened with a girl in a bar. (I have brought my scooter out to a bar. This atmosphere is different and I am more accepting of stares and questions because I chose to be there in the first place.) A girl came up to me and told me I looked like a “freakin’ badass”. (There’s no way she really meant it, but that’s not the point.) I thanked her and she told me she was impressed that I came out, that if she were in my shoes she would stay at home and be depressed. She told me she noticed how much I was smiling, and whether or not I was really that happy she was impressed with my game face. I touched her arm and thanked her and then felt the tears welling up so I made my boyfriend leave the bar with me (sorry!). But anyway, Girl at the Bar, thank you and I love you.

After I was able to walk again following the 3 months of wheelchair life, I remember feeling like something was wrong with me because people were not staring. The first time my mom and I went out in public I asked her why no one was looking at me. She told me “you’re just not special anymore!” Hilarious, Mom. But as familiar as I become with being stared at, I would always choose to walk and be ignored than to scoot and be a stare magnet.

I cannot speak for anyone but myself. I do not pretend to know what it is like to be permanently disabled. I have so much respect for people who do, and I am inspired by them every day. I am extremely fortunate to be in this situation only temporarily. I am also so grateful for the support system that surrounds me in the form of family, friends, therapists, doctors and nurses. I would be completely lost without these people. But I have experienced things that non-crips have not! And I have learned a lot about people and how wonderful or sucky they can be. And I have learned how to treat people who are different than me (something I thought I had down in fourth grade, but I was wrong until I was on the other side of things).

To sum things up, people who are disabled are probably a lot more like you than you realize. Even something as subtle as eye contact can reveal a lot about what you think about them. Also, don’t forget to pay attention to me after I’m walking again.