Life as a disabled person

What I'm thinking when you are disabling me.

A series of paintings illustrating phrases which go through my head when people ignore me, speak down to me, don't provide access or otherwise disable me.

Trying to live an ordinary life as a disabled person is difficult, but it's not the wheels or the canes or the hearing aids that are the problem, it's society and it's lack of accessibility and understanding.

It's not sad that I use a wheelchair, these wheels are my freedom

I'm a person, not a wheelchair

I'm not a child you know!

Am I invisible?

No I don't have a license for driving my chair, so you better watch your feet

And what's wrong with you?

Feel free to talk to me directly

Out of my way, I'm wheeling through

Let me pray for you to be healed.... Of your ableism

And God said "let there by I access" and it was NOT good!

I'm disabled, not broken

I'm as entitled to be here as you are

Our relationship?

Absolutely NONE of your business

Oh really, Kale, I MUST try that instead of my medication (NOT).

(This painting is inspired by Dr Bex Lewis, never forgotten.)

Just one little step?

Oh good, I'll just levitate!

Yes I'm entitled to use the disabled toilet/ disabled parking etc

No I don't have to tell you why

No I'm not "soooooo inspirational"

How am I?

How long have you got?

And God said "let there be access" and it was NOT good!

...

This series was created to raise awareness and I am thrilled to be able to share that one of them was used to illustrate a talk given by Dr Naomi Jacobs on "disabled people's experiences of curative prayer" at the 2024 Society for the Study of Theology (SST) conference.

"Sneak peak of a slide below, featuring art by the fantastic Emma Major (thanks to her for kind permission to use it)."

...

"Do We Belong?"

In the shadows of glass and steel,

where laughter dances on sunlit sidewalks,

we sit in silence,

the world, a carousel, spinning wildly,

ignores us,

as we’re anchored to our corners,

invisible.

Knocking on the doors that lock us out,

each knock echoing forgotten dreams,

cities draw their lines in chalk and grit;

we are ghosts hovering between what is shared

and what is kept as guarded treasure.

Access denied,

a password unspoken,

bridges built with bridges burnt;

every smile slicing through air like blades,

they don’t see the invisible:

a universe wrapped in exclusion.

Each day blurs into the next;

the horizon shifts just beyond reach,

while you roam through streets painted bright hues,

I am here, with only imagination for company.

Belonging slips through hands extended wide,

like grains of sand,

the harder I grip,

the more it eludes me;

but still I breathe this stagnant air,

searching for meaning,

woven within quiet moments.

What do you know of being unseen?

To live behind phantom curtains,

our hearts beat bold,

a rhythm unsung,

yearning to join your parade,

with every heartbeat,

time stretches further between us.

We find solace beneath these roofed skies,

crafted from dreams yet held captive,

in these alcoves carved by circumstance,

invisible threads binding our existence together.

This isolation cannot shatter hope entirely;

though sometimes night creeps heavy upon my chest,

my heart too large for these four walls

reminds me,

I can still long to belong,

even if belonging means carving paths from shadows,

shadows cast deep,

by those who roam so free.