It’s a quiet but heavy burden that comes with being disabled in public spaces: the constant need to justify your existence. It’s not always direct confrontation, but it’s always there, lurking in the background. It's the moments when people look at me but don’t really see me, when they speak around me or over me, assuming I don’t have the ability to speak for myself. It’s the way my body becomes an object of curiosity, a puzzle they feel entitled to solve.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve been asked, “What happened to you?” or “Can you walk?” The question is often framed like an innocent inquiry, but it’s not innocent it’s a demand for an explanation. My body, my very existence, requires a justification, as though I need to tell you my life story just to prove that I belong here. It’s an uncomfortable position to be in, and it’s one I find myself in more often than I care to admit.
But the truth is, I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my body. I don’t need to explain why I use a wheelchair, why my body moves differently, why I don’t fit into their narrow assumptions of what’s “normal.” My body isn’t a riddle for you to solve. And yet, society constantly expects me to explain myself, to prove that my presence is valid, that my body is worthy of space.
This constant demand for justification starts to chip away at my sense of self. It feels as though my mere existence is in question, as if my right to occupy the same spaces as everyone else needs to be earned. When I’m asked questions like “What happened to you?” it’s not curiosity. It’s a suggestion that my body is an anomaly, something that needs to be explained before it’s allowed to exist freely. My body, just like anyone else’s, should be allowed to take up space without having to justify why it’s there. But in reality, that’s not how the world works.
I often wonder why this is. Why is it that disabled people, and especially those who don’t fit into narrow standards of “normal,” are so frequently expected to explain ourselves? Think about it: no one asks an able-bodied person, “Can you walk?” No one demands that they explain why they’re in a room, why they belong. No one questions their right to take up space or have a seat at the table. But for me, every time I roll into a room, every time I enter a new space, I have to ask myself will they see me as entitled to be here, or will I have to fight for my right to exist in this space?
This isn’t about the occasional rude comment or the glances from people who are unfamiliar with disability. This is about a broader, systemic issue. It’s about the fact that, as a disabled person, I’m constantly negotiating my presence. I’m made to feel like I need to justify my existence in ways others never do. I’m asked to explain myself, to prove that I deserve the same access to space, the same consideration, the same respect as anyone else.
But I’m tired of explaining. I’m tired of feeling like I have to tell people the backstory of my disability just to be seen, just to be acknowledged. Why should I have to explain myself to make someone else comfortable with my presence? My body doesn’t need a story to exist, just as your body doesn’t. I am not an exception. I am not a curiosity. I am a person, just like anyone else, and I have the right to occupy space without feeling like I have to justify why I’m here.
The emotional toll of constantly justifying my presence is exhausting. It’s draining to have to explain to strangers, to acquaintances, and sometimes even to friends, why I am where I am and why I deserve to be there. This isn’t just about access it’s about dignity. It’s about feeling like my body is enough, that I am enough, without having to provide a justification for my existence.
We live in a world that wasn’t built for disabled people, and the constant demand for explanations only reinforces that. If society truly embraced the concept of accessibility, it would mean creating a world where disabled people don’t have to justify their presence. It would mean designing spaces, conversations, and systems that assume our right to be there without question.
We need to stop treating disability as something that needs to be explained, as something that needs to be fixed, as something that doesn’t quite fit into the “normal” order of things. Disability isn’t an anomaly, and it certainly doesn’t require an explanation before it can exist in the same space as everyone else.
I want to live in a world where my body is simply allowed to exist in the spaces I occupy, without the need for justification. I want to live in a world where disabled people don’t have to explain why they deserve to be seen, heard, and respected. Until that happens, I will keep showing up, unapologetically, without offering an explanation.
Because my presence doesn’t need to be justified. I don’t owe anyone an explanation.
I am here. That is enough
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