With only a few hours until trick-or-treaters descended on my house for Halloween, and no costume for me and my wheelchair in sight, I gave birth to Joltin’ Johnny. In a fit of creation that would have made Dr. Frankenstein proud, I twisted a bunch of electrical wires through a metal noodle strainer bowl, and set it on my head. I chuckled as my wife and I duct-taped my arm, along with more wires, to the armrest, leaving the other free to drive my power wheelchair and hand out candy. Wearing white-striped pajamas, face powder, and charcoal around the eyes, my revolting electric chair character was ready to shock the trick-or-treaters.  

I made this corny wheelchair-based getup to satisfy my own humor, but judging by the reactions I got, it turned out to be a bridge to others as well. The trick-or-treaters’ laughs and excited chatter were a lot more fun than the times when I didn’t dress up and everyone tiptoed around my wheelchair instead. In my lap I also carried a flashlight, and during lulls between trick-or-treaters I’d turn the beam on myself and flop and convulse in the window. One kid refused to come up the driveway, but behind him his dad was flashing a big thumbs up — dadjokers unite! 

Many of us wheelchair-users have struggled at times with others’ staring. There’s something joyous then about costuming you and your chair together and encouraging even more staring but on your terms. This is me. This is my chair. Also, my costume’s better than yours. 

You’ll see that unbridled joy and playfulness in the following wheelchair costumers, and maybe pick up some ideas and inspiration for your own costume this year. 

Halloween Is for Everybody 

To Gina Schuh, 40, a C5-6 quadriplegic and real estate investor in Mesa, Arizona, it was never a question of whether or not to dress up with her wheelchair. “Oh, heck no. I think I went even bigger because of it,” she says. “I think [the costumes] are my claim to fame. Halloween is for everybody.”  

Schuh’s always been a Halloween person, and that didn’t change when the holiday happened to roll around while she was still hospitalized from her spinal cord injury. The plucky teenager donned Halloween pajamas and cat ears and wheeled from room to room, handing out candy. “Everyone was so happy and it was so cheery,” she says, “and I think that kind of stuck with me.” 

To come up with costumes like Amelia Earhart, a girl in a canoe, and the Soul Train, Schuh has made a habit of thinking outside the box, even though she’s very much inside the box — a box from Home Depot, which serves as the base for her costumes. “I start with this 16-inch-by-16-inch box that I slide into,” she says. She basically decorates the box, which is always removable. “I’ve learned it’s not fun and kind of annoying to have it on nonstop,” she says. “I make them so they are easy-on and easy-off.” She points out that stores also give away boxes for free. Schuh says if you’re good at finding deals, you can make costumes like hers for $50-$70. 

Epic Builds and Bombs 

Based on the 1970s TV dance-party show, the Soul Train took 10 hours to build and was a project for Schuh’s whole family, who got together to have fun with it. It’s the kind of teamwork that was missing when I was making a costume with my pal Tim, the 7-year-old kid next door. He was smart as a whip and could set up his toy soldiers to re-create famous battles, so for Halloween, we were going to be a two-man assault vehicle, with me in front as Sparky the driver — with my wheelchair clad in olive-drab cardboard as an Army truck — towing Tim as Gunny, riding in a squeaky, cardboard-clad Radio Flyer. By then I had lost use of my hands due to multiple sclerosis, so Tim was also the secretary of construction, even if his mastery of measuring and cutting wasn’t on par with his military history acumen. The further along we got, the more our vehicle and our ambitions sagged. It wasn’t long before we raised the white flag — too many Pattons for one project. 

Our experience makes me appreciate the dedication and craft that Katie Colleen, a 28-year-old engineer from the Pacific Northwest, puts into her costumes. Her Tecna Harmonix costume, inspired by a character from the animated series Winx Club, took more than three months to complete. Colleen’s family never celebrated Halloween, but when she attended her first cosplay convention in 2012 and saw hundreds of fans dressing as their favorite characters from anime, manga, video games and movies, she fell in love with the scene. “It can be an incredibly accepting community,” she says.  

A wheelchair-using cosplayer was born, one whose creativity might offer ideas to those of us getting ready for Halloween. 

Because of hypermobile syndrome and osteoarthritis, Colleen is an ambulatory wheelchair user. Constant joint pain, cartilage deterioration and unstable, dislocating joints make her use her manual wheelchair often and at length — including when she cosplays. “Cosplay con” weekends often mean miles of walking through exhibition halls and hours of standing in lines, which is all made possible — and more enjoyable — for Colleen and the disabled cosplayer community by using their wheelchairs.  

As an athletic person still coming to grips with her physical condition, she has found cosplay to be a theraputic, fulfilling outlet for her energies. “I took a look at what I could do, what I could have control of,” she says. “I could still do cosplay.” Her popular Colleen Cosplay YouTube channel grew alongside her immersion in the lifestyle. The channel became not only a way to share her costume creations, but also a sounding board for disability issues and resources, including her tutorials on accessible-costume making. In her wheelchair adaptations, fairy wings become wheelchair wings, and Captain America’s shield becomes brightly painted foam wheel-covers. Combined with her wig making, stitchery and fabrics, it all comes together in an affordable, enchanting ensemble. 

Once she started wheelchair-cosplaying, she heard a lot fewer invasive questions and bracing comments like “you look too young to be disabled.” “People would complement my mobility-aid decoration instead of asking why I use it,” Colleen says. “When people stare now, they are just looking at my art.” 

Hilarious Maximus  

As wheelchair costumes go, Clint Voelker, a 41-year-old manual-wheelchair user from Mandeville, Louisiana, created a showstopper. He’s enjoyed dressing up for Halloween since childhood, and the only thing his spinal cord injury has changed is coming up with new and clever ways to incorporate his wheelchair. When the C6-7 quad entered his wheel-chariot in a general costume contest, the audience was cheering for him to win, and he took first prize. “Everyone loved it,” Voelker says. “Most people are really surprised and can’t believe the lengths I go to designing a costume. … The chair just adds another dynamic.” 

Voelker designs high-voltage transmission lines for a living, and does enjoy a build. He constructed his chariot by himself in three-to-four hours, no mean feat since he has no hand or finger function besides tenodesis grasp. For the craft materials — including colored posterboard, wooden dowels, rope, markers, tape and glue — plus the outfit and a blowup horse from Amazon, the project cost about $120.  

“When thinking about building around your chair … see where you may be able to mount things in a way that still [lets you] move around normally,” Voelker says. “Have fun with it. It’s one time a year where you can go dressed up as anything you want to be!” 

With so much inspiration, this year I’m hoping to come up with a showstopper of my own. I’ve started growing out my beard and we’ll see if I can Goodwill together the white three-piece suit I have in mind. Then I’ll airbrush my face, neck and hands white, and cloak my wheelchair in a white sheet — and be the Lincoln Monument, but with a quad belly.