Growing up, there was a man, Mike, who lived down the street and who used a power wheelchair. He had broken his neck as a teenager and was my friend Megan’s uncle. Whenever we were bored, she would drag me to his house so we could ask him for a free ride on his wheelchair, sit on his lap, the whole shebang. And, oh man, I hated it when she would make us do this. I really did.
The reason it bugged me? Back when I was nondisabled, I, just like half the human population on this planet if I had to guess, felt horribly uncomfortable around wheelchair users. I was only 6 and already I was prejudiced towards wheelchair users. What’s the deal, man? Is it ingrained in our brains to automatically poo-poo anyone who cannot walk?
Now that I’m a quadriplegic, of course I’m not proud of my 6 year old self. While I never imagined my accid