Brooke-Unapologetically Crippled

Hi! My name is Brooke, I go by @braht on Instagram. I'm an 18 year old artist and photographer, and I have Arthrogryposis. Arthrogryposis is a condition that effects my joints and muscles, making me just a little shorter, stiffer, and weaker than your typical girl. As an adult I embrace my differences, but when I was younger that wasn't always the case. I was good at faking it, but I hated my disabled body. I wanted to hide it. I wanted to change it. It wasn't that I had any ill feelings towards disability or the disabled community, I just felt extremely uncomfortable in the unique skin I was given. This toxic mentality all changed with one magical night, but before I get into that, let's go back to where it all began.

At the time of my enrollment for kindergarten, my local school wasn't handicap accessible. Because of this, my mom made the decision to teach me at home. I could have transferred to my district's public school once it was renovated to be accessible, but my grades were excellent and I was happy with the curriculum I was in. In addition, I didn't grow up in the nicest of neighborhoods. Kids were mean and even average, able-bodied students were constantly being attacked. My mom and I were concerned that if I switched to public schooling, I'd not only be bullied and taken advantage of but also that my academic standing would suffer from the distractions I'd be dealing with. Given these reasons, I was (virtually) homeschooled my entire life. 

Homeschooling gave me an advanced, more positively enforced education and if I could go back and change things, there's not much I would. The only thing that genuinely bothered me was how boring and lonely it got growing up. I had no siblings. I had online classes with teachers and students my age, but all of my classmates were scattered across the state. The only friend I ever made that I could actually hang out with in person was a girl a bit younger than me that lived next door. 

As the years went on, I wasn't very interested in making friends with other kids that lived nearby because I was sheltered and good and mature for my age and they were, to be blunt, freaking crazy. They were always doing wild and reckless things that my disabled body couldn't participate in, and even if I was capable of doing those things, it still didn't appeal to me. I didn't want to do stupid things for fun. I hung around mostly adults, so I was a relatively responsible child. I didn't fit in. Outside of my relationships with family members and my one close friend, I didn't have much of a social life until just recently. 

This past June, my high school graduation ceremony, immediately followed by prom, was held in my state's capital. My whole life I dreamt of prom and fantasized it as the one night I could finally get a shot at being "almost normal". None of my classmates knew me personally. They only knew my name and my face from our virtual classes. The lights would be dim, I could throw a big poofy dress over my bulky, awkward leg braces and maybe, just maybe my disability wouldn't be the first thing people noticed. Because I had such high expectations for this one night I'd been dreaming of and waiting for my entire life, when the time came I almost didn't even want to go. I'd painted such a perfect picture of everything it could be in my head that I didn't want it to become tainted by harsh reality. 

My harsh reality was that, no matter how well I hid it, I could never have an able-bodied night because I, plain and simply, am not able-bodied. Prom is a dance. I wouldn't be able twirl around the dancefloor until my knees gave out on me and I knew it. When I accepted that this was indeed my reality and that there wasn't anything I could do to change it, I dropped the desire of wanting to be "normal" for the night and created some realistic goals instead. It was only then that I was able to truly enjoy the occasion.

I couldn't have the able-bodied experience I dreamed of, but I was serious earlier when I said that everything changed with this magical night. I didn't for a second forget that I'm disabled but for one of the first times in my life, I didn't care. I wasn't comfortable with dancing apart from swaying in my seat, but I socialized and I sang and I had so much fun. I waddled stiff legged across the dance floor to claim my crown when I won prom queen. I met and flirted with a man who would later that night become my prom king and later that month become my first boyfriend.

It wasn't until the DJ played Forever Young, the last song of the night that it hit me; I was no longer a child or a student, but an adult. It truly felt like the end of the first chapter of my life and the beginning of the next. I could at long last take control of my story. Prom night was the key that opened doors to a whole new world, whole new friendships, and a whole new me. 

I went from being a sheltered, bored, eighteen year old Honors student with hardly any friends to being a prom queen with a newfound sense of confidence, a newfound friend group, and a newfound life. I'm no longer afraid to step (or roll) outside of my comfort zone. I'm no longer afraid of how other people will see me because I'm no longer afraid to see myself. I learned that, regardless of my differences, I'm capable of doing amazing, beautiful things. I'm a little upset it took me eighteen years, a plastic tiara, and another person to come to that conclusion, but rather late than never, right?

I'm disabled. That won't ever change. But my mindset has. I'm done hiding and I'm done trying to change myself and my body to fit unrealistic standards that society tricked me into setting for myself. My disability doesn't define me but I also know that I wouldn't be the same kind, patient person I am today if it weren't for my limitations. I am unapologetically crippled. Unapologetically me. If anyone has a problem with that, than the only thing I feel sorry for is them and their close-mindedness.