Ms. Wheelchair USA

i’m disabled.

it’s private- what’s wrong and what happened and how it’s changed my life is, frankly, none of anyone’s business. i’m not obligated to talk to you about it or to justify myself (or the modifications i need in the real world space.) you’re not obligated to tell me you’re “sorry” because there’s something different about me.

these things are privileges because you can’t “see” what’s wrong with me right away. i don’t use adaptive equipment or drive a special car.

its not like that for my sisters with the Dane Foundation’s Ms. Wheelchair USA Pageant. for one reason or another, they all use wheelchairs to get around. they look different, have physical needs outside the norm. unlike me, they often need helpers for what many of us would consider basic tasks (think getting in and out of your car!) and yet… they are some of the most amazing, talented, wild and wonderful women i have met at the annual pageant have touched me in ways they probably can’t imagine.

i feel like it’s been 7 or 8 years that i’ve had the privilege of hosting the “Painting with a Purpose” component of their week-long pageant activities. we have a short art history lesson about women in the art world- the good, the bad, the ugly, the objectification- and then i run around the room for a couple of hours helping the ladies make a self portrait painting. you can find the basic outline of this class at the entry Self Portraiture in the 20th Century. it’s always one of the most amazing afternoons of my working year. ladies who know me from previous years roll in and exclaim, “oh! it’s you! i’m so happy it’s you!” ladies who don’t know me eye me a little hesitantly before trying to say things like “i’m not much of an artist” or “i can’t even draw a stick figure” or “i failed art in school” before i start waving my hands around and shout “this is an exercise in self exploration! be here with us! remember- bad art never killed anybody!”

so this year, whatever number year of doing this is this year, the current Ms. Wheel Chair crown holder locks eyes with me and says, authoritatively, with a touch of insubordination:

DID YOU BRING GLITTER?

last year, her painting demanded glitter. i didn’t have any, so i sent my hapless assistant off on a quest for glitter which spanned 3 stores, 45 minutes and a quarter mile hike through the lengthy parking lot mazes of Fairlawn, Ohio.

i may be an old dog, but i can learn a new trick.

last week, i started having nightmares about not having the glitter. “don’t forget the glitter,” i kept telling myself, every time i took a note about the event. 12 participants, white canvas, 5pm, DON’T FORGET THE GLITTER, OMG.

i was able to smack my hand on the table and yell back: DID I BRING GLITTER? WHAT AM I SOME KIND OF AMATEUR?! before forcefully stacking up no less than 6 jars of glitter on the table in front of Her Highness. “you didn’t forget me,” she said.

“how could i ever forget you, once-a-bunnie-always-a-bunnie?

someone, somewhere, will get this joke, i am sure.

as always, the art this year was fantastic as well as the company. every time i spend my day with this group, i feel safer and more comfortable in my own skin. humans are, after all, pack animals. like all of us, i sometimes need to feel like i belong somewhere- that i’m some part of some chain of experiences. it’s nice to be in a place where the inside experiences are as important as the outside experiences.

ms. bunnie, i know you will pass your crown on to another amazing woman to represent the foundation this year, but you’ll always be the reigning queen of glitter in my heart. thanks for being my friend!