Some of what I love about Camp Dream Street is that it levels the playing field. The vast majority of camp is fully accessible (except for one notable curb) and counselors are assigned to help campers with the tasks that they may be unable to complete themselves. My counselors were absolutely amazing people who treated me like a friend instead of someone they needed to babysit. So many people treat those who are disabled like they are inferior, but my counselors treated me—and my cabinmates—like we are human. Most of all, though, I got to have fun. Cerebral palsy wasn’t a limitation at camp. I don’t have to do things in spite of my CP at camp; I accomplish things with CP. We went swimming, canoeing, wrote a newspaper, tie-dyed shirts, drove a van, and so much more, and cerebral palsy was not a limiting factor. That’s very rare.
One of the most thought-provoking experiences I had was when my fellow campers and I in the high school age program were asked to speak on a panel advising counselors how to treat younger campers. A beautiful thing happened on that panel—I realized that I wasn’t alone in my perspective on disability. As I sat beside my cabinmates, and they brought up issues like being ostracized by able-bodied people, or their boundaries being ignored, or just simply, being treated like they weren’t fully human, I felt so validated. I felt almost euphoric because it hit me that I was in the right place. I finally had friends who shared some of my perspective.
Too often I feel like I am not enough. In the eyes of society, I’m not disabled enough, but I’m not able-bodied enough, either. I “pass” as able-bodied, meaning that people don’t always see my cerebral palsy, but as soon as my disability comes out, people view me differently. I talked so much with the girls in my cabin about their experiences with disability and came to realize that the mildness of my cerebral palsy didn’t matter at camp. They didn’t look down on me for how mild my CP was. They didn’t tell me that I shouldn’t complain because others had it worse. Instead, the girls in my cabin did the one thing I have always wanted: they accepted me and my CP for what it is, and for who I am.
For once I didn’t feel like an imposter. I felt the most secure in my identity that I have in a long time. Often in society, the message is that if you are independent, you can’t possibly be disabled. I have tried to fight against these two conflicting parts of myself for so long. I want to be independent. I want to be validated as having a disability. You can have both. I can be both.
I learned so much about myself at camp. I learned that I can do things independently and away from home and not fall apart. I learned that I can do anything anyone else can—I may just have to do it differently. I learned to make waffles from scratch and to work together with people from all walks of life. I learned to drive with hand brakes! For a while I resented that I might have to drive with hand brakes, but now I understand it’s just a different path to independence. I learned that accepting myself as disabled wasn’t putting myself down. Considering myself disabled didn’t and doesn’t mean that I accept less for my life. The girls in my cabin taught me that separating myself from my cerebral palsy wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t helping me. Instead, I was just living in a big pool of denial with a heap of insecurity on top. Being disabled and secure in myself aren’t mutually exclusive. I learned to love myself a little more. After all, if some of my best friends at camp are disabled, how could I do anything but love that we share that connection?
Mostly, I learned that accepting my CP—not constantly fighting against it—can bring me good things in life. Without my cerebral palsy, I never would have met some of the most extraordinary people I have ever known. I wouldn’t have the genuine friendships I made at camp this week. I wouldn’t know myself as well as I do right now if I didn’t have CP.
Going to camp this week was so good for me. I got to bounce ideas about disability off of other girls with my condition. I was able to interact with people in college (with and without disabilities) who are living their lives independently and successfully. I met people who don’t look down on me because of my disability, but they don’t deny that it’s there. My counselors love me and accept me just because I’m me.
At camp I was a different person. I was confident. I was independent. I was secure in myself and my abilities. I felt worthy of having friends and of being a friend. I loved who I was at camp. I don’t want to lose that person, and I know she’s still in there somewhere. I just need to find her again.
To my counselors and new friends from camp, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You opened my eyes and helped me understand that it’s most important to love myself—and that not all of society will judge me for circumstances out of my control. Everyone I was around brought out the parts of me that I like and embraced the parts of me that are flawed. I had so much fun just getting to be a kid with you all.