I am a person.

I am not a drone that exists to do your bidding. I honor your authority because God placed you there, but He did not put you there so you could abuse, belittle, demean, provoke, harm or take advantage of me.

I am a person.

I am not an expendable commodity that can be used up then tossed away.

I am a person.

I think. I feel. I laugh, I cry.

I am moved by a beautiful sunset.
I weep when I am in God’s presence.
I get hungry and thirsty and tired.
Sometimes my body gives out, I cannot help it.

I cannot help that I am different from you.
I cannot help that you see my disability as a dysfunction, a defect, an imperfection, an inconvenience.
I cannot help that you believe my disability to be a problem, a difficulty for you. How little and self-absorbed is your world! You only see how it affects you; how it inconveniences you.

Lately, it seems this is happening more and more.
Because in this place

  • ·         I am a commodity
  • ·         I am a number
  • ·         I am a drone
  • ·         I am a shadow
  • ·         I am an inconvenience

I am a bothersome something to shove into a corner and forget, ignore, until it is discovered I am useful for something.

Here, I am expendable.

Here, in this place that I give a minimum of 40 hours of my life every week – not including the 15 hours a week traveling to and from.

160 hours a month

1,920 hours a year.

I am

  • ·         Loyal
  • ·         Hardworking
  • ·         Always ready to help

But all they see, all you see, is a problem

  • ·         Someone difficult
  • ·         Someone who does not matter

I walk through the doors and my humanity is brutally stripped from me – from behind closed doors, under the protection of a computer screen, with words and decisions and policies created in the dark and remaining in a vacuum.

A name on a screen is not a human, just a number; just a collection of textual characters in a personnel file. You don’t have to remember it is a human and it is easy to forget because you avoid the humanity.

And the frustration and pain flow over me in tortured waves that take my breath from me, making my heart leap and pound in my chest.

And it goes home with me.

Home. The one place I am safe. The one place I can relax and be me. Yet they have managed to get there too. You have managed to slither into my home, my time.

Nowhere is safe.

You ignore my simple requests for help, for accommodation. You don’t want to be bothered. It does not affect your world, only mine. Therefore, it is not important to you – not important in your kingdom.

“Disabled” does not mean “useless.”
And employee requesting reasonable accommodations is not a n employee being difficult.

I make accommodations every single day to exist in your world.
I just ask that you make a few for me, to make it easier, so I can be more productive.

But, you ignore it, reject it.

I did not choose to be this way.
I did not create this.
I did not make it up.
This is my birthright, my destiny.
This is ME.

I did not choose to be different.
But I am.

And I have learned to embrace it; to embrace ME – just as God made me.

I am not a number.
I am not a drone.
I am not an expendable commodity.
I am a person.
I have value.
People love me.
People care about me.
And I love and care about people.
You do not determine my place in this world, who I am.

And you can’t take ME away, change who I am just because you don’t care.

If you can’t see my value, I am sorry for you.

When you are in a worldly situation, you do not change yourself to fit the world. You change the situation to fit GOD. I will not back down, will not stop seeking His face in all that I do, will not turn from His ways to fit into your world.