limb difference awareness month
on disability-fatigue, beyoncé and what I'm afraid to say right now.
For limb difference awareness month, the absolute last thing I want to talk about is limb difference.
I suppose I should? After all, I did tell you all that’s what this blog is for.
But can I tell you a secret? I’m tired of talking about it.
Perhaps you don’t mind. You’re one of my friends from college, my ex-girlfriend, or my mom’s friends that have to pretend to like everything I write. You probably won’t care. You know me.
Or perhaps you do! You’re one of those 40% or so of names that I don’t recognize. You’re another advocate in the space that has subscribed to hear about limb difference, disability, or at least threads of thoughts that have a semblance of a connection to disability.
If you’re in that group, I’m going to be honest here: I have nothing for you.
Or maybe I do? Maybe this is the most raw disability-lived-experience reflection that I could write to you.
Here goes.
I went to a dance studio last week.
I showed up, minutes to spare, and changed into workout clothes in my car.
I could tell you about how I was nervous. Nervous because there would likely be a lot of arm movements and people may stare? Maybe.
I could tell you about how I don’t normally dance in a setting like this. Because asking instructors to personalize instructions in group-classes feels burdensome and disruptive? Sure.
I could tell you about how I really did not want to claim the spot in the first row at the center of the room. But alas that was the only open spot left.
Was this nervousness because I look a little different? I’m not sure. Partially? Or was I simply uncomfortable and a little resistant because going to a dance class when you are entirely new to a studio and for that matter a city is nerve-wracking! And because girls can be intimidating, and because the friend that dragged me there is red-room-level good at dancing whereas I have absolutely no dance experience or skill.
Probably the latter.
And probably because this is a very normal reaction that any person would have. And likely because anxiety, nervousness, anticipation, resistance, judgment and fear are feelings felt by us all. Regardless of our number of limbs.
The intro to a Partition mash-up thrummed through the speakers (did I mention that this was a Beyoncé-themed class?), and shocker!! I wanted to dance. Settling in to my spot in the front, I gave my body a little shake.
One song rolled into the next, and I thought about all of the other times I’ve been self-conscious about something and did it anyway. I pulled up the knee pad that had now begun falling down my leg (did I mention that this was also a HEELS class?) and peeked at the girl to my left to see if she, too, looked a little uncomfortable and wobbly with the extra few inches. And I can bet she was doing the exact same thing. And so was the girl to her left, and so on and so on.
This was the space in between crumpling in on myself and showing up. This is not a disabled-specific experience. It is a normal-human with human-emotions experience. And for me recently, equating everything to disability doesn’t feel quite right.
I say this, know this is truly the most honest-limb-difference awareness thought I could give you right now. Real forces exist for us all. Willing us to stay home, stay quiet, stay small. Disability surely isn’t the only one.
In advocacy, our conversations often surround access to education, healthcare, communication, transportation. Rightfully so, yes! These things are foundational and so important… but I’d like to put that conversation to the side for just a moment. I’d like to entertain the idea that disabled people don’t want to talk about the lack of ramps, and barriers to education, and assistive devices, all of the time. Disabled or not, when you pull up to an unfamiliar dance studio and are instructed to strap on 6-inch heels and somehow also make your way down to the floor without slipping, and at the same time be shaking your ass and following the very confusing arm-choreo, I’m fairly certain that you’re also going to be a little intimidated.
I shy from saying this, because I don’t want to minimize the force of disability in an ableist world (and a force that I may not fully experience as I am on the lighter end of the spectrum when it comes to how impacted I am in daily life), but damn it!! I guess what I really want you to know about limb difference awareness month is that I exist outside of it.
And writing this right now, I realize that this might actually have everything to do with disability after all.
Happy limb difference awareness month! And as a friendly reminder to both myself, and my readers: our worth extends far beyond the count of our limbs. Short limbs, long limbs, no limbs, one limb, two limbs and all the other fun combos — we get nervous and scared, yet we show up anyways. Because it’s Beyoncé, and when it’s Beyoncé, you show up.
I'm not disabled so I really can't speak for you, but it seems like a very important thing to know about yourself and also to convey to others! Maybe ~especially~ if you run a Substack that is all about disability it's probably important to respect other parts of your identity as well.
Also huge respect to you, because I think I know exactly what kind of dance class that was, and I. Could. Never. (because I literally cannot dance well enough and the social anxiety would stress me tf out) haha