Vyoma Raman

Each work in the column was a different piece to a narrative that I didn’t even know existed, one which embraced me and encapsulated a core part of my identity.

While disabled people legally have the right to vote, there are a lot of practical challenges.

From a very young age, I have been conditioned to accept questions from adults about all aspects of my life and medical condition.

As much as I gripe about the wind and the rain, I’m so glad I never have to worry about being unable to walk in the streets because of snow or ice and that I can suffice with a hoodie to keep me warm on most days.

Words, as innocuous as they may seem on the surface, are reflective of the attitude and culture of our society and they can say a lot about how we view ourselves and others.

Our society is so obsessed with finding a cure, but its attempts to do so are drastically misguided and, in my opinion, misunderstand the source of the problem.

My prioritization of intellectual health and my utter dependence on medical health mean that my social health sometimes gets neglected.

We’ll always have to take the long way around and put in more time and effort, whether accessing buildings, going to class, getting a job or achieving other “normal” milestones.

When people say I’m “lucky” for having a single minisuite room, they’re overlooking the genuine reasons I have it and negating the validity of my struggles.