Disability & Desire

The second chapter of my book

art piece I made in high school

“We’re gone in a blizzard of seconds. Love the body human while we’re here. Give thanks or go home a waste of spark.” ―Marty McConnell

I was in Special Ed from elementary through middle school, and all I learned was how to eat pizza—lots and lots of pizza.

My parents advocated for me to get tested in third grade. My mom, in particular, noticed I was struggling in school, and she had become worried about my low self-esteem. She said I kept getting quieter (not my nature), and more subdued. My dad worked for the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation, so he had some knowledge around disabilities and advocacy. I know what a privilege it is to 1) have parents who advocate for you, and 2) have parents who have the time, energy, and resources to do so. This is obviously not the case for a lot of kids. 

I remember the testing clear as day. It was awful. You’re in a small room with an authoritative figure, and you know something is “wrong” with you, because that’s how the entire experience is established. It’s human nature to want to please people, especially as a small child. I remember feeling immense pressure to give the right or correct answer. It feels like you’re being interrogated; it seems carceral. I watch a lot of “Dateline,” and it honestly looks similar to the experience of lie detector testing. Windowless room, scary “educator police,” and you can’t leave until it’s done. It feels like you are trying so hard to shrink yourself, but you can’t, because you’re one of two people in the room. It feels like you’re being found out—and not on your terms. All you want to do is hide. All you want to do is get out of that room and breathe.