This past spring, like a game of telephone, my exciting news that I would be able to attend the 2024 Paris Paralympics spread, and was, well… misconstrued. On more than one occasion, I got a text from a friend of my grandma’s, or a peer at school, where the person wished me well in my “big swimming competition.” Either my 90-pound, scrawny physique gives off that of an Olympic athlete, or, many people are unfamiliar with how big of a deal it is to qualify for the Paralympics. The athletic competition is on a global stage, with—not some of, but—the most talented athletes of our time.
While my once a week swim practice through Adaptive Sports New England is something I enjoy, and take moderately seriously, it is certainly not enough training for an athletic career of Paralympic heights. What those Sunday mornings spent in the pool did do for me, however, was provide an interesting perspective on how the public engages with para-athletes and disability more broadly.
The first swimming competition I entered as an amputee was last March. Organized through Move United—an affiliate of the Paralympic Games—, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I don’t think I’ve been in the same room with as many fellow disability community folk, let alone been treated so “normally” (in my opinion, there is no such thing as “normal”) despite my body moving differently than people are used to. Seriously, not a single person batted an eye at my scars, limb difference or anything else I would normally mentally prepare myself for when getting on the diving board at my high school swim meets, or entering any room full of able-bodied people. [continue reading…]