Read My Latest Posts

Posted on

An Illusion of an Evolution

CW: ableism, parental ableism, grief about disability, anger. 

A recent article published by The Age discussed an exciting and revolutionary podcast called “Too Peas in a Podcast”. Hosted by two mothers of disabled children, it is presented as a safe place to talk about their difficulties as they raise their children. This initiative may be perceived as contributing to the building of social support networks or as raising awareness – both of which are integral to the wellbeing of parents and children alike. What unfolds in the content of the podcast and the article though, is in fact detrimental to the wellbeing of disabled people. 

In the article, the hosts used the stage to describe their revolutionary idea of having a “living grief”. This refers to the supposedly inherit continuous process of grieving one’s disabled child’s life. This essential building block of the podcast is in fact an old idea, which shames disabled people. Parents used to sacrifice their disabled children to the Gods, as an offering for their sins. Disabled people used to be (and still are), thrown into institutions, ignored and silenced. Disable people have always been seen as a burden on their families and society. Being sad, even distraught by having a disabled child is based on the presumption that disability is a bad thing, a tragedy.

The “living grief” and other negative perceptions of disability continuously present themselves in the podcast. In the episode discussing stigma, one of the hosts shared she has kept her children’s ADHD diagnosis a secret in their school to avoid stigma. She referred to it as “not managed very well” and argued it should be considered a disability because it relates to brain dysfunction. She went on to suggest that if ADHD would be considered a disability, no stigma would be attached to it. Only a small amount of research or connection with the disability community would prove that this is highly unlikely. The other host, a mother of a child with cerebral palsy, said in regard to her child’s diagnosis “You can’t fix it.”. It is clear the hosts view disability as tragic, their children as faulty to be “managed” and “fixed”, who deserve to be grieved about.

These messages are based on the objectifying medical model, on which the discrimination against disabled people has been based on for generations. It perpetuates the idea that bodily impairments are bad and are the basis of disability – suggesting that people who are not “typical” are objects to be handled and fixed by medical professionals. This is disabling – it means society blames individuals for their disabilities and takes no responsibility for including everyone.

This podcast isn’t revolutionary, it conforms to old and shaming ideas about disability. Ableism is not a revolution- it is the oppression of disabled people. The impact of these ideas run deep in our veins. When a child learns that they need to hide who they are to be accepted, that they’ve caused grief to their parents by being born – they internalise this ableism, and in turn suffer from guilt, shame, depression, anxiety. They may even consider suicide. 

The social model of disability, developed by disabled people, asserts that disability is based on limitations in the society one lives in, rather than individual bodies. Limitations include both physical and attitudinal barriers. Too Peas in a Podcast puts significant attitudinal barriers within the lives of disabled people. 

What is new though, is that we will no longer be silenced. I feel proud to say my community of disabled folks is strong and comforting. We are not to be grieved for. We are not to be silenced. We are, just like any other human – to be celebrated. We deserve to be happy about being alive, without others grieving our births. And so today I celebrate – being a disabled woman. I celebrate all my disabled siblings across the globe, who stand or sit or lay by my side. It is time that our voices be heard.

The absentminded punchline of the episode was that people should be careful with content they share, to avoid hurting others, and that “If you’re not living it, why are you sharing it?” Good question indeed. If you’re not the person living with the impacts of discrimination, ableism, shaming, lack of access, people grieving for your life, objectification – why are you sharing it?

Step aside and give us the stage. Be an ally and call out ableism. 

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford 

Posted on

My Poetry and I

If you follow me on social media, you’ve probably noticed I’ve been doing more poetry nights recently. (If you’re not following, scroll down to the bottom of the page to find the links or search L. K. Bridgford on Facebook/Instagram)

I’ve recently been asked if I put my poems up on my page or blog, and unfortunately the answer is no. Why is that? Because I hope one day to publish these somewhere, which won’t happen if they’re already available on the internet. I thought perhaps reflecting on my journey with poetry would be worth-while.

Poetry is actually one of the first types of writings I’ve ever done. I have poems I wrote growing up, and surprise-surprise, they are pretty depressing! I found a few recently when going through old notebooks, one was called Alone. I used to write about feeling isolated or excluded, and about hope for peace (which, if you read about what was happening in Israel in the 1990’s – would be easy to understand). Oh I also used to write in Hebrew (my first language) but now, I write mostly in English.

Poetry was also one of the first things I started writing when I returned to it. Poems come to me like clouds, arriving unexpectantly, without explanation, structure or clear direction. They come out onto the page naturally (in their draft form, of course). I then spend time editing and finding the exact words, metaphors or rhymes to suit the theme.

I came across an advertisement for a local poetry slam last year. I’ve never been to one before, or even knew these existed! A night of reading poems? How delightful! I went along to see what it was like, and to read out a poem I was exploding from the desire to share. The poem is called Cries. It reflects on the cries of a mother as she hears her baby’s cries.

Riding a water roller-coaster.
Image: white woman standing in front of a small crowd, looking at a phone. She is wearing a cream top, pale blue jeans and brown glasses.

The adrenaline hit that I felt reading out my poem, amid my shaking hands and voice, was addictive. I returned again and again since that first time, reading out various poems, and listening, soaking in other poets’ words and wisdom. Being present at a poetry night feels like riding a water roller-coaster, exciting but gentle at the same time, caressing and convulsing all at once.

I continued to feel inspired to write more poems, about various life experiences, and to read these out to my fellow poets. Reading out my poems fills me with fuel to keep writing.

Recently I wrote a poem called Trapped which was directly inspired by my online fibular hemimelia (FH) community. I was so keen to share it with them, and so asked a friend to record me reading it out. It felt so incredibly special to connect with my fellow FH brothers that way. It is the shared understanding I always craved growing up – I am living it, and am so grateful.

I don’t know what poem I will write next, but I do know there is one brewing in the back of my mind. I just need time to let it arrive.

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford

P. S. If you’re in Melbourne, you’re welcome to come along to a poetry night – just send me a message on social media and I’ll let you know about my next appearance.

Posted on

Writing a Positive Post

One of my readers recently commented they’d like to see a positive post next, so I’ve reflected on the meaning of the word “positive”. We humans love to categorize and label, it makes our world orderly and safe. Salad- good, hamburger- bad/ love – good, anger-bad/ compliance – good, defiance – bad. If only the world was so simple. Our society and this world is so much more grey than this positive/negative division.

We like to focus on the ‘good’ because it is comfortable and comforting to forget about challenges, inequities, violence, oppression – in our past and present. We watch mindless TV, read trash and listen to music about love stories, because who wants to listen to a song written about women’s oppression or Aboriginal genocide?

Another reader recently asked me why I keep focusing on the past- and my answer was simple: if we want to improve the present and create a better future, we must closely examine our past. As my late grandmother used to tell me about the Holocaust: we must never forget, to prevent it happening again.

I do however, respect your feedback, and understand that some of my recent posts may have been experienced as heavy for some. We all have moments of wanting something light to read, watch, or listen to.

So I’ve tried (really hard) to think of an only-positive topic to write about. I could think of a few things that are pure joy- like a baby’s laughter, but nothing exists in isolation, and I’m not good at pretending (that it wasn’t preceded by hours of screaming, for instance). I also find it quite boring to be honest! I’ll admit, I’ve got this tendency to look for improvements. So here are a few positives that came to mind, alongside their ‘for improvement’ aspects. 

Positive: I have a TV and I’m grateful for that- I love watching Insight and currently Sex Education.

Negative: There are a lot of people who don’t have the same (fair) access to television, and other forms of information and entertainment. Too many organizations and companies still don’t make access to disabled people a priority.

Positive: Watching TV can make me happy – especially when I find a thrilling or thought-provoking show.

Negative: I am not very good at watching without my critical mind ticking away (That’s the problem when most available TV comes from white-men, able-bodied creators).

Positive: TV can teach us about people, cultures, ourselves. From the comfort of our couch we can get transported to other dimensions of time and place.

Negative: TV has been teaching us the wrong thing for so long- perpetuating patriarchal structures of our society. We have learnt how to shame women for being humans (with any thoughts or personality) and how to admire men for being alive.

Positive: Good basketballer.

Negative: Rapist.

Positive: We can still change- as people, as a society.

There is no negative that comes with this one. 

What is the point of this post then, I wondered. Perhaps it is to remind us of life’s complexity- the greyness of people, society and life. Is to encourage us to look at ourselves with honesty. Being grateful doesn’t mean avoiding looking into what needs fixing. Calling out racism, ableism and other inequalities doesn’t mean hatred, it means love. Only love gives us hope for change: I love humans and what we’ve achieved- and it allows me to trust that we can overcome our struggles with violence, injustice and oppression. We’ve come so far. Looking back with only nostalgia means we don’t acknowledge the progress made or make room for change. Looking ahead with an open mind and heart means we’ll be ready to create the best path forward.

I hope this was enough positivity for you today. 

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford 

Posted on

What happened when I was called “brave” for living with a disability

As a child, I was often told I was “brave” and “strong” for living with a disability. I was told I was an inspiration for handling life with a smile. I was called “resilient”, even a “hero”. I was only a child, living my life, handling the cards I’ve been dealt with the best of my abilities. This included a missing bone, operations and painful procedures. I always felt a cringe when people said such words, but only in the last year or so I got to fully understand why!

Being Non-Inspirational at age 15. Image description: a teenager is sitting on a rug on grass. She wears sunglasses and is holding green grapes. On her right leg is in a brace covered with a cream fabric band.

Being an object of inspiration porn has got in the way of me accepting my body, and myself. I felt I had to be “strong”, “brave” and “unstoppable”- examples of adjectives I’ve heard from others about me. We internalise so much of what adults tell us as we form our sense of self. And so when my foot or leg were sore, I also felt anxious as I felt I had to push through those feelings, pain and keep going.

The well-intentioned words came with an implication that I always have to inspire, it implied it is my duty to be a hero – overcoming immense obstacles. Mind Over Matter. And so I pushed. Sometimes my body caved in and provided temporary obedience. Other times- it yelled out NO by creating unbearable pain I could not ignore. This led to feeling inadequate and a failure as a person. It was disheartening not to be able to live up to my “potential” and the expectations I was carrying on my shoulders. Feeling I’m letting others and myself down quickly turned into feeling down about myself. 

Our bodies are matter, often with its own will. I learnt to ignore my body’s signals, But I still couldn’t transform my leg into having another bone, or magically make an eight-centimeter leg difference disappear. I’ve tried praying, hoping, crossing fingers. But our bodies obviously don’t always cooperate in the magical way we want it to. Able-bodied people might know what this means when they come across things like age, illness or pregnancy. Being out of control of your body can be distressing if you thought you were in control!

So what exactly is inspiration porn? Inspiration porn refers to considering an achievement something that isn’t considered extraordinary, if you take disability out of the context. This means people with disabilities are seen as objects of inspiration rather than real, live, humans, with their own values, aspirations, emotions. This type of behavior perpetuates two false and damaging ideas: one- that disability is a bad thing. Two- that living with disability is an achievement. None of these are true, and both ideas are damaging to us, people who actually live with disabilities. When people do this, they are objectifying one group of people (disabled people) to the benefit of another group of people (able-bodied people). This behavior makes our life harder, by making society exclude us rather than work on inclusion, so that we can live the fulfilled life that we deserve. In other words, by being the object of inspiration porn, we are being further disabled by the society we live in.

How did I change my view on this? Learning about the term inspiration porn was so relieving. I was able to look into my internalised ableism and expectations which were unrealistic. I realised I had become expectant of my body to function like it never had a missing bone in the first place. “Nothing stops her!” “So determined” – these in my head turned into an identity of being strong, and any complaint, or “caving into” pain or limitations, was considered a failure. I realised how damaging this is- to my body, mind and soul. I was ignoring pain signals, instead of thanking my body, I ignored then resented it, then kept on walking, cycling, or body pumping. I can be like everyone else. Then, my body fought back with more severe pain, to the point I had to stop. I felt low, depressed, resentful and angry. I was angry at myself, my leg, my life, my parents, at everything. This was the damage to my mind. And soul. I cried, and felt excluded, and let down by the world, but mainly, by myself, how did my mind not get over these obsctables? “You can do anything you want!” What a lie! This realisation was extremely difficult to comprehend. To try and reconcile my body’s signals to STOP and my mind’s signals to PUSH THROUGH.

It took a while, but I have decided. I’ve decided to listen to my body, to feel embodied, to connect with my senses fully. To accept that pain is natural and a good thing, because it helps us prevent tissue damage. I’ve learnt to accept my body is not like everyone else’s. It is unique. And that is a good thing. I may not be able to complete a 50 km hike in the mountains of India like some of my friends, but I can do things other people can’t. Like change the whole way I view myself, like understand emotional and physical pain deeply or teach people about inclusiveness.

Now, I feel grateful to have more acceptance of my body. More often than not I accept my limitations and crash on the couch instead of trying to vacuum. I don’t get frustrated, sad or depressed about my leg or back pain. I just take some pain killers, rest and chat to my disabled community about pain-reduction tricks. (Who knew magnesium can make such a difference?).

This is why I am writing this post. Because I don’t want the next generation of disabled children to go through the pain that I did to get here, they deserve better. We have social media and internet available, and we can use it to educate. We can help these children feel embodied, accepted and celebrated, rather than objectified.

If you still think you don’t care about any of this, and enjoy using your child (or other people) to inspire yourself or others, consider this- wouldn’t you prefer to be cautious, in case your child feels the way that I, and many other people with disbilities feel? Do you really want to take the risk?

So, how can you avoid using inspiration porn? Here is a guide: Don’t do it. Use the rule of thumb- put yourself in the disabled person’s shoes. Ask people what they want and need. Lastly, challenge your own ableist attitudes and call these out. Make our society a place we can all thrive in, not only those born with a particular body shape.

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford

Note- my explanation of the concept inspiration porn comes from my understanding of it, based on reading and listening to disability writers and activists. (To name a couple: Stella Young and Carly Findlay). If you like to read or hear more about it, feel free to message me on social media (links at the bottom right of my website).

Posted on

Concluding a Decade

It was almost impossible not to write a concluding reflection about the last year, actually, about the last decade. 

I’ll start from the beginning. In 2010 I was serving in the Israeli Air Force as a First Lieutenant at Flight school. I built, from scratch, a role of managing three operation rooms and seven unique soldiers. I was responsible for their personal and professional well-being, all of whom were no younger than me than by two years. It was one of the most challenging and rewarding experience I’ve ever had. During that year, I’ve finished my service and went travelling around Thailand and Laos. I’ve learnt to connect with others using other things but words, and appreciate my privilege in the hierarchy of the plant. 

Me passing the baton. Image description: a person in khaki uniform, holding a purple tinsel, she is looking away from the camera.

In 2011 I was studying: history, Bible studies and literature, to improve my already-high high-school grades with the aim of landing a medical school spot. When finishing those exams (with excellent marks I must admit), I decided to go travelling again. Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand. During that trip I decided to ditch the childhood dream of medicine (thank goodness). I also met a nice Australian guy. 

Meeting an Australian guy. image description: two people on a hammock: a man is smiling with eyes almost closed, wearing a yellow singlet: a woman is smiling, looking at him, wearing a white singlet.

2012 was the year I moved to Australia to be with the Australian guy (ok, Mike) and study psychology. I’ve adjusted to living in the unpredictable and cold Melbourne weather, and the unfamiliar Australian culture. I’ve continued studying and getting to know Melbourne and Australia, volunteering in the community, and making life-long friends along the way. 

Learning about Christmas. Image description: a woman standing with one hand on her head. she is wearing a red long-sleeve top and red reindeer antlers.

In 2014, after finishing my psychology degree, Mike and I went back to live in Israel. I worked two mental health jobs (simultaneously).

Tel-Avivian life. A meal on the balcony was one of my favorite rituals. Image description: brown wooden table on balcony, a street visible in the background. On the table is a salad; two plates with sandwiches; a water bottle; glass cups.

In 2015, I got engaged (to Mike). Four days later my last living grandparent passed away. The year finished with a pre-wedding honeymoon in Europe and Japan. That was one of the best trips I’ve ever had. 

A moment in Japan. I am walking with a walking stick because I’m barely walking after exhausting my leg. There is always a price to pretending and pushing yourself too much. Image description: a woman is standing with a walking stick, holding an umbrella, camera hung on her neck. She is standing next to a pond, with trees in the background.

In February of 2016 I got married to Mike (the Australian guy). Then I started a Psychology Honours degree. While doing that, I started working as a mental health counsellor, a job which I am still doing. I graduated from my Psychology Honours degree. 

A bride. Image description: a woman in a white wedding dress. She wears a white flower crown and is smiling.

2017 was a tough one. I had to prepare for a testimony in a court case about my disability. It was something I never wanted to do, and never thought I’d have to do. I spent months with a therapist preparing for it. I tried to explain to my colleagues it wasn’t a holiday (even though I used all my leave to go). Testifying indeed was extremely triggering. The weeks I spent around family and friends, who didn’t know anything about it, was also challenging. No one knew about the court case. Hiding it, pretending I wasn’t going through re-traumatisation, was exhausting. Thankfully, the year ended on a positive note, as Mike and I moved homes and got Chilli the puppy (on the same day!). 

  • Bringing Chilli home. Image description: woman holding a cocker spaniel puppy, who is licking her face. She is smiling.

In June 2018 I gave birth to my son. I then spent almost a year at home full-time with him. That was one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my life. Yes, it was harder than my military service. The intensity and size of my emotions, as well as the natural tendency to reflect on one’s experiences after a baby’s arrival, brought me back to writing. 

With my precious one, at our six-week check up. Image description: woman sitting on green chair, holding a small baby. She is smiling. The baby is looking away from the camera.

In 2019 I’ve been writing, more and more. I’ve also been performing- reading out my poems to other people has been more rewarding and exhilarating than I expected. Connecting with other readers and writers, in person and online, has been brilliant. Importantly, this process of writing, reading, reflecting, and connecting, has brought me to where I am today. I am much more self-aware about my internalised ableism, as well as about the societal impact I’ve experienced throughout my life to create that. I am tackling both the external and internalised ableist attitudes now by challenging it daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. 

Performing my poem A Visit. Image description: a woman standing in front of red microphone. she is wearing glasses, light blue shirt and black scarf.

Today I’m determined to continue writing and connecting with people, educating others about ableism and promote inclusiveness. 

So what can I expect from the next year, or decade? It is hard to tell. I hope to be looking back and be amazed about the progress made by our society. I hope to be just as likely to pick up a book by a disabled woman than by a white cis man. I hope to be just as likely to see a disabled protagonist on TV and the movies, as an able-bodied white male. 

Why? Because it is time. It is time all of us marginalised and silenced people have a voice. It is time young, disabled, transgender, immigrant, Aboriginal girls feel included, like they have a place. It is time for them to know they can succeed and thrive, just by being themselves.  

Until next time, 

L. K. Bridgford 

Posted on

This Holiday Season I Am Looking At My Internalised Ableism Straight In The Eye

This is my second post about the topic, and I feel an urge to write it right now, as we are in the midst of the holiday season. ‘The most wonderful time of the year’ for many of us brings to mind images of ‘perfection’; a perfect family picture, a perfect meal, perfect weather, perfect bodies. Images of able-bodied plump babies, happy toddlers and well-rested parents overshadow our social media for months. Unless you are aware of ableism and are conscious about following disabled people who are proud of who they are and post real-life photos of their bodies. 

For many years, the majority of my life in fact, I have not been aware of ableism or the internalised ableism I have been living with for about thirty years. It is exhausting. Hating yourself and never feeling like you’re good enough is tiring. It means you’re always trying to cover up, physically and metaphorically. You omit parts of your day, your feelings, your experiences, your body. Of yourself. It is isolating as you are left feeling like no one really knows you or understand how you feel. How can they, when you’ve never let them in? 

My Holidays/Everyday shoes. These are custom-made to fit my very different feet. Comfort=Beauty. Image description: two black leather boots with white stripes on the sides.

The last year or so I have gone through a journey and started looking into my internalised ableism in the eye. If you don’t know what ableism is, do yourself a favour and google it. Thank goodness for technology. And books. Thanks to books and social media, I have been exposing myself to different views of disability and slowly been flashing out my own internalised ableism in the process. Realising I was feeling ‘less than’ so often has been a revelation. It’s happened through reading stories of other disabled people and realising I was not the only one feeling isolated, ashamed, excluded or in physical and emotional pain. Connecting with others with my own (rare) condition has also been life-changing, after never meeting anyone else with it. I have always been the only child with crutches, leg brace or regularly vising the hospital growing up. I’ve never seen any disabled persons on TV or in a book (and I read everything) or on the big screen. I learned that being able-bodied is the norm. I.e. to be beautiful, sexy, successful, you have to be able-bodied. And I wasn’t, and was never going to be. How depressing is that?

  • Post Christmas rest with one of several great books I got. Image description: two legs resting on a grey couch, with a cocker spaniel against the left one. The right one is shorted, skinnier with a smaller foot, scarred below he knee. A book is laid on the thighs, it is Play All by Clive James. 

After about a year of reflecting, reading and connecting, I can confidently say now that I am no longer ashamed of who I am. Of my disability. When I looked at my internalised ableism in the eye, I realised I had the power to release myself from it. I decided to get out of the prison society told me to live in. Learning disability language, and having role models who are proud of their disability, rather than ashamed, provided me with the tools to become ‘perfect’, as I am. To be truly happy with what I’ve got, accepting it and even being grateful for it. Having a disability provided me with life experiences I could have never had without one. All of which have led me to where I am today and who I am. And I love my life! I am not like everyone else (despite being told I was for many years) and that is a GOOD thing. I don’t want to be like everyone else. Actually, no one is like anyone else anyway. It’s called human diversity. 

This holiday season I have decided not to hide. I didn’t choose my clothing based on how much they’ll cover my scarred, small leg. Just based on my mood in the morning. I felt like wearing a dress and so I did. This morning, I went for a walk around the neighbourhood in a new and favourite pair of shorts. Walking with my head high and leg in the fresh air feels like bungee jumping (I have done that once before if you must know). My leg has been hidden behind long pants for so long, even in 40-degree days, just so I could pretend to be someone I am not. I am done pretending. 

This Hanukkah/Christmas time I am proud of who I am, and it feels great. So I am posting some photos of my real-unedited-life, including my leg. Because it is a part of me. And it doesn’t make my photos less perfect. In fact, my leg being there makes the photos even more special and perfect. 

Happy holidays.

Until next time, 

L. K. Bridgford 

Unedited Multicultural Holidays. Images description: first- small lighted Christmas tree, Hanukkah Hanukia and koala plush toy. Second- Blackboard with Merry Christmas and Hebrew Happy Hanukkah captions with chalk drawings, with plastic toys thrown around it. Third- Lit Hanukkah candles on stone Hannukia, Christmas decorations in the background.

P. S. If you need ideas about awesome people to follow on social media or great books to read, feel free to message me on social media (link on the bottom right of the page).

Posted on

Speaking Up About Sexual Violence

Trigger warning: sexual harassment and sexual assault. 

There was no particular event precipitating this post. But here is one example of a reality-check media report which made me sad, angry and ultimately motivated to write it:

“IN UNDER A FORTNIGHT, SEVEN WOMEN HAVE DIED AT THE HANDS OF PEOPLE KNOWN TO THEM” 4thOctober 2019, SBS.

I am sick and tired of hearing these stories, everywhere. At my work, in my life, on the news and social media. We need to do something about it. 

Shame is a powerful tool our society uses to silence women. We are told in many ways it is our fault for being harassed or assaulted. If you need this explained, take a couple of classics; Why was she walking around alone at night? (i.e. she should have been more careful, it’s not the man’s responsibility not to rape her) and Why was she wearing those clothes? (i.e. she should have dressed more modestly, it’s not the man’s responsibility not to harass her). 

Today I’m refusing to buy into this crap, and I am speaking up about experiences that happened to me. I hope this will help someone to speak up against patriarchy and ultimately, make our society a safer, better place.

One of my first experiences of being sexually harassed was at the age of 14. My parents’ home was opposite a small community medical clinic. One day I walked towards the clinic with my crutches. A taxi was parked in the driveway, where the entry was. I walked around the taxi to get into the clinic when I saw a young man watching me, too closely. Hurrying into the clinic, I hoped he’ll be gone by the time I come out. The clinic was very quiet and I was the only patient around. The man and his taxi were still there when I walked out, he was now standing right next to the entry door. With no one else around, in the middle of the dead-silent street, he started making comments. Inappropriate comments. He asked how old I was and then commented that I looked much older, while obviously scanning my body with his gaze. There was no one out there and no one within hearing range, and I felt extremely vulnerable and scared. I knew he was stronger than me, I couldn’t even physically run away from him. He continued to ask if I had sex before. I don’t remember my reply, but I do remember walking away as fast as I could with my crutches, praying he wouldn’t follow me or grab me. I was too scared to go home for the potential of him following. The nearest shop was about an impossible kilometer away up the hill, so I couldn’t walk anywhere to be seen. I walked away, looking back every few seconds. He was watching for a while, and I took my racing heart towards the neighbour’s house to divert him. Finally, the taxi drove away, and I went home.  

About four years later, at the age of 18, I was sexually assaulted during preparation for a court case about my disability. As a part of this lawsuit, I had to be examined by a doctor appointed by the defense. Young, disabled and female, I had to go through the examination without any companions present, due to an obviously-male-invented rule made by the court. I worried about being examined this way and protested, to no avail. Alone in his clinic, the doctor examined much more than he needed to. He ordered for me to take my pants off (actually standard in examining my leg condition) and then touched my body in places he didn’t need to, in order to write his report about the severity of my disability. I froze and tried to zone out to manage the fear. He also touched my upper body, in case you had doubts about his thoroughness, despite the fact that my condition has absolutely no impact on my breast tissue. I walked out, shocked. 

You’re probably wondering if I told anyone. I did tell somebody, both times. I told somebody and nothing happened to the perpetrators. It will be an understatement to say I barely got any sympathy. After the doctor assaulted me, I was actively encouraged to “forget about it”. I wasn’t offered any emotional support to handle this trauma. I was left feeling ashamed to the bone, and rarely thought or spoke about these incidents since. Of course, I didn’t see a point to even bring it up when I was subsequently harassed by less powerful or influential people.

What I’ve learned from these experiences is that it doesn’t matter. That I should deal with it, because being harassed and assaulted is a part of being a female, especially a disabled one.

So why did I write this very-unpleasant-to read snapshot of these experiences? Because today I know better than buy into the shaming. It was not my fault and I am not the one who should be ashamed to talk about it. These men should be very ashamed and take responsibility for their misogynistic behaviour. Men do not deserve to silence me, or any other woman. I was recently inspired by Clementine Ford’s words “Men do not deserve protection from their own choice to abuse women”. This is my choice. And I want these men, and every other perpetrator out there, to know that we will not be silenced.

Importantly, I wrote this because I want every child and young person to feel safe and to know that they should speak up if they are not safe. There is always something to do about it. If you told someone and nothing happened, tell someone else. If I knew I could or should tell someone else about my fears, concerns or traumas, I’d be much better off. Responsible adults should take accounts like these very seriously and realize- if someone told you they are feeling unsafe or have been harassed or assaulted, you are responsible for doing something about it. It is your job as a parent, teacher, member of the community, to protect our vulnerable ones. Unfortunately, we know that children with disabilities are even more vulnerable to being a target.

If you are struggling with something you experienced, or with a story someone told you, reach out for help.

L. K. Bridgford

P.S. If any of this is painful to read, then you should do something about it. For ideas, read my previous post about patriarchy.

Posted on

Self-acceptance, shame and disability

It’s been a few months of contemplating how to write about this topic. I do not define myself by my body or my disability. I have however, been reading and coming to terms with parts about my disability and self-stigma, and I’ve decided to write publicly about it. It is not easy, but I believe it’s important. 

As a kid I was just a kid, defined by the friends I had, games I played, books I read. As I grew up, my disability became more and more disruptive, to what everyone did and expected me to do, to what I wanted my body to do. I’ve been excluded many times, from sports at school, youth movement activities, outdoor adventures like the beach. I’ve been bullied because of my disability many times growing up. It’s been many years of defining and redefining. I’m now again not defined by my disability. I don’t often talk about it, and as ashamed as I am to say it, I have been trying to hide it. The mere fact that today my disability is mostly invisible, makes it possible to pass as an able-bodied person. Reading about disability recently has got me thinking about my long-lasting self-stigma and shame, and I am working on correcting it. This post is the first step. 

So here it goes. I was born with a congenital condition called fibular hemimelia, in my right leg. This means I was born without one of the shin bones in the leg (fibula), and consequently with a small and deformed foot and knee. I have gone through 18 operations in my first 17 years of life to correct the angle and length of the affected leg. Operations are behind me, for now, and I am walking unaided with specially-made shoes or insoles. 

These days my disability impacts my life only minimally, with some pains and aches and the usual, long-term limitations I’m accustomed to (like no running, no rock-climbing or jumping off planes, to my great disappointment). I work, study, laugh and love like anyone does. I usually wear long pants or skirts to hide my very scarred and small leg. These days I’ve started wearing more shorts because of the weather. And also, because I am no longer ashamed. I am no less valued, beautiful, smart or hard-working than any able-bodied person. In fact, my disability made me who I am today, I have no doubt in mind.  

So, here are a few things I think you should know about disabilities, and ways in which you can help make our society a more inclusive place. 

  • People with disabilities are everywhere. They are your friend, colleague, neighbor. They are at the gym, pool, beach, movies, night clubs. They are that person who never wears a particular item of clothing to avoid exposing a part of their body. Of course, they are also using crutches, wheelchairs, vision aids, etc. 
  • People with disabilities are just like you– they want to be respected, given personal space, not to be asked or commented about their body or being touched without an explicit request. They strive for the same things that you do, like shelter, food, clothing, love, purpose in life. They want to have a conversation, make a connection, just like you. 
  • People’s aids are a part of themselves- often. I saw a kid the other day at the library who was playing on another child’s wheelchair. He was using it to race around, banging the chair on shelves and laughing. Meanwhile, the owner of the chair was struggling to get to it with his crutches. My heart ached for that child whose mobility was temporarily controlled by another child’s game. The adults around him didn’t say a thing. I have experienced similar things growing up.

It is not okay to use someone’s mobility aids as a game, it’s not actually funny. It is extremely disrespectful to use someone’s only means to be mobile or included in our society. “Asking” doesn’t make it right either, as an excluded person with disability, especially a child, often does not have the power to say no. 

  • Disabilities can be invisible. A few weeks ago, a father of two in Israel was murdered after trying to park in a disabled parking spot. Both his wife and child have a disability. 

Hold on and think before you judge, many people live with debilitating and painful invisible disabilities. The way people look can be deceiving.

  • People with disabilities want to feel included in our society. This can be hard when our language is often excluding, and we often assume people are able-bodied. For example, when health professionals jump to offer people “Go for a walk or a run” they are making an assumption the person is able-bodied. A person with a disability may often feel excluded by this and even hopeless, as they are unable to enact an apparently important suggestion. 

Use inclusive language instead– instead of a walk you can say “physical activity that suits your needs” or just be more curious around what is it that people want or can do. Instead of assuming all people are able-bodied and play able-bodied sports, be curious. Ask what people’s hobbies or favorite physical activities are. 

I hope this helps you think about people’s disability status differently, or even just think about it. My hope is that our future-society will be more inclusive to all, and in which this kind of blog post would be obvious and unnecessary. If we all made more of an effort, self-acceptance would soon replace shame for many people.

Every child with a disability and every parent to a child with a disability should be proud. Not ashamed. I am no longer ashamed. This post is proof.

What’s your proof?

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford 

No longer ashamed. This is my proof.
Self-acceptance. Blogging about disability and feeling grateful.
Posted on

The Power of Silence.

I’m writing this as I’m sitting in my finally quiet livingroom. It is extremely refreshing to hear my own thoughts, or even generate some. Many of us are often scared or get uncomfortable with silence. 

In our everyday life, many of us avoid silence, probably because we are scared, anxious, or have negative views about silence. When we are alone in silence, we almost immediately jump to check our phones for notifications, emails, social media, anything to distract us from our silence. We often put on some music, podcast, anything to be playing loudly. Sometimes we need it just to tune down the volume of our thoughts or feelings, sometimes we cannot tolerate a minute of silence without an activity. I’m guilty of this too- I rarely get a chance to sit in silence. But when I’m so lucky to experience it, I savour those silent moments. 

We also avoid silence when we are spending time with other people, either in person or over the phone. Many of us attribute silence to having nothing to talk about, tension, boredom, disrespect or disinterest. We jump in to fill in the gap between sentences or words, just to ‘keep the conversation going’. Many of us prefer insincere or superficial conversation to silence.

My view on silence is very different, and here are the reasons I treasure silence rather than shun away from it. 

Working in mental health I found silence to be an extremely powerful tool we can all use more often. Sitting in silence with someone means I am giving them space. Providing opportunities to think, process, come up with their own words and ideas, change perspectives. These things won’t happen to any of us without time and space. Silence provides exactly that. 

Silence with ourselves gives us time to listen to ourselves. Many of us get stuck in routines, habits and behaviours we don’t actually like or choose, simply because we don’t listen to ourselves. How many times have you eaten or drank something just because it was there, because of a habit, or to alleviate feelings? Sitting in silence provides us a rare opportunity to listen to what our minds and bodies truly desire. My desire and will to start writing again after many years, has sprouted in silence. As I sat in silence I found this truth, which is now an integral part of me. 

Silence with other people is powerful both in new and old realtionships. In an existing relationship you can strengthen it by giving an old friend or partner an opportunity to express themselves anew. They can tell you how they are truly feeling or talk about previously unspoken topics. Even without saying a word, sitting together in silence can certainly be a bonding activity. It doesn’t have to be in nature’s serenity. The living room couch or the local café can have a similar effect. 

In a new relationship, silence can indicate to the other person you have patience. You don’t need to jump in with suggestions, ideas, solutions to other people’s lives. You can portray yourself (and be of course) a better listener. You can just be with someone. I also think silence can indicate confidence and emotional intelligence, as someone is comfortable enough with waiting before reacting, proving they are not afraid of silence, nor do they need to say everything that comes through their mind. When we give people space, we are respecting them for having a valuable contribution to the discussion that should be heard, and thus expressing that they are valuable humans. Another secret about silence is that it gives you time to observe others, think and be more mindful of your reactions.

Of course we don’t want to over-use silence and not respond at all to other people. It is meaningful when used appropriately, with an empathetic response after the other person has finished saying what they needed to say. For ourselves we also don’t want to sit alone and isolated in silence for too long. The risk of you doing any of these two might not be high, as our society often encourages us to move along and avoid silence, within ourselves, and within our relationships. 

So I am challenging you to try silence. To sit in the discomfort of silence for a few minutes and see what happens. 

L. K. Bridgford 

A Silent Winter Morning in Melbourne
Posted on

Why I Choose Kindness (and you should too)

Our modern life is full of stress. The world has always been violent. Life, conflict, and people are all complex and there are rarely easy or straight-forward ways to handle those. 

One of the keys to managing it all, I believe, is kindness. I’ll start with an acknowledgement that my thoughts on the topic have been formed through years of vast world travel and reading. In particular, the Buddhist thinking about kindness has had a significant impact on my life. Studying psychology has helped me make sense of why these approaches are so helpful, and how we can incorporate them into our everyday life. 

If you’re the kind of person who thinks about how to improve your life, you may find kindness helpful. Here is why I choose kindness, and why I believe you should too.

Self-kindness or self-compassion are extremely helpful tools in our materialistic, capitalistic society. I don’t know about you, but I grew up in an environment that puts individual success at a very high value, almost the highest value of all. With this pressure to achieve and perform, comes a pressure to criticise oneself as means for improvement. I was also blessed with a perfectionist personality trait, and in combination these lead to pretty self-destructive ways of thinking. Feelings that I’m not doing enough, or thinking that I’m not good enough, smart enough or fit enough used to be regular experiences. What self-compassion teaches us, is to replace these destructive, painful, and honestly, unhelpful ways of being, with kindness. Being kind to oneself certainly does not mean being slack or lazy. It means treating ourselves with compassion and love. So instead of “I’m not good enough” we can say “I’m doing the best I can in a tough situation”. Another way to explain this is trying to treat ourselves like we would treat our best friend. Would you say to a good friend that they’re stupid or not good enough for failing an exam? Or for not getting into the university course they wanted? Would you love or value them any less? Exactly. So you should give yourself the same treatment. The result of self-kindness is often content and calm, instead of anxiety and shame.

Kindness instead of judgment. We all like to think of ourselves as non-judgemental people. But few of us actually practice being kind to others instead of judging. Judging is a natural tendency a lot of us have (including me!). It’s purpose in our mind is to help us feel better about ourselves (if we judge someone else as comparatively less than us, we feel better about our own life). But the long-term implication of our judgements are substantial. They create alienation, for starter. As soon as you judge another person, they are an object in your mind, rather than an equal, whole-rounded human. We also start thinking in stereotypes and make assumptions about people before we even realised. If you think you’re not guilty of this, notice your thoughts or feelings next time you see someone different to you. A different skin colour, accent, clothes style, language, body shape, disability status, the list goes on. Kindness instead of judgement comes with practice. Instead of judging, send in your mind love and kindness to the other person. Try to think about the things you have in common. Trust me, we are all so much more alike than we’d like to think. If you’re stuck- use the basic assumption that a fellow human will inevitably have similar needs to yours, to be valued, loved, have shelter and clothing, to have purpose in their life, to feel connected. Choosing kindness means you are much more likely to connect with another person rather than alienate them. When we judge, we often feel anxious or isolated, simply because we are busy in our mind judging and comparing. When you practice kindness, you’ll notice feeling much lighter and more connected to another, even if you haven’t said a word! 

You can help someone who is suffering without even realising it.  So many of us feel too busy to be kind to people we don’t know. What we often forget is that so many people around are going through serious troubles that we are not aware of, and that simple acts of kindness can make a difference. Kindness helps us connect with others who may be suffering, helping both parties feel better. Do you ever stop to think about how many people on your train or on the road are experiencing heartbreak, disability (visible and invisible), serious illness, grieving, caring for a loved one who is physically or mentally ill, dealing with recent or childhood traumas? The list goes on. Choosing kindness means you send love and kindness to those who need it. A quick chat or hello will often do. I have often stopped during my commute to talk to people experiencing homelessness, to have a chat and learn about them. I find these conversations highly rewarding and heartwarming. You can probably come up with many more ideas.

Kindness connects us all. As you may have realised by now, I believe kindness have the potential to connect us. I have witnesses this first hand when travelling to lands in which foreign languages are spoken. People who practice kindness were able to welcome me and connect with me in such a meaningful way, without saying many words. 

I strongly believe kindness is the start of our answer. We must practice it, towards ourselves, our neighbours, strangers. We must practice it towards people we may have negative views of. With time, those views are likely to shift, which benefits you, me and our entire society. We can work through many more challenges if we can see the humanity in each other, first and foremost. 

This is not to say I am always kind or that I find it easy to do. When I practice though, I am flooded with contented joy.

L. K. Bridgford 

When Choosing Kindness <3