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It's Disability Pride Month. You should know that I'm proud to be disabled.

Here's something you should know about me: I'm proud to be disabled.

I can picture some of you looking very perplexed right now. Admitting this fact about myself is something I may have said in a hushed tone just a few years ago. Why? By all accounts, I'm not supposed to be "proud" of my disability. Not according to society, at least. But then again, I've never given much thought to societal conventions. Thankfully, I'm not alone.

July is Disability Pride Month, which is sparking so many much-needed conversations about living with a disability and what it means to celebrate that. People with disabilities make up the largest minority group in the United States, with 61 million adults living with a disability, according to the CDC—that's one and four people.

Disability Pride Month is a time to celebrate people with disabilities. It's also a time to call for changes toward a more inclusive, accessible world. The first Disability Pride Day was held in 1990, coincidentally, the same year as the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA); the pivotal legislation was the biggest disability rights win of our generation and it "prohibits discrimination and guarantees that people with disabilities have the same opportunities as everyone else to participate in the mainstream of American life—to enjoy employment opportunities, to purchase goods and services and to participate in State and local government programs and services."

Maybe that's why this year, as we celebrate the 30th anniversary of the ADA, this idea of disability pride feels all the more poignant and important. While I may have reached a place of pride now, I didn't always feel this way.

I was born with Freeman-Sheldon syndrome, a genetic bone and muscular disorder that primarily affects the face, hands and feet. I've had around 25 surgeries to straighten my legs, as well as correcting my scoliosis. I spent the majority of my formative years in and out of the hospital. At times, what was harder than all those surgeries was feeling so different from everyone else. I grew up never seeing anyone that looked like me— not on TV, not in movies, not in books or even magazines. At a time when all I wanted to do was fit in, it was hard to stand out so much.

People are shocked when I say I'm proud to be disabled because we still live in a society where pride and disability don't belong in the same sentence. Disabilities are seen as shameful. They are looked at as something bad. People should feel sorry for us. Who would want to be disabled? That's a question I've heard far too often from too many people. I've had individuals tell me that a disability and wheelchair is nothing to be proud of, it's nothing to celebrate and that it's something I should be ashamed of.

Of course, people's cruel words are only parroting the messages society sends about disabilities. We live in a culture that treats disability as something bad or negative. From a young age, disabled people are taught to be ashamed of something that's a huge part of their identity. I felt ashamed of my disabled body for many years; I wasn't comfortable in my own skin and, interestingly, becoming a writer that helped me change my perspective. The more I wrote about disabilities and about my life, the more I felt a cleansing of sorts. It was as if the act of writing was literally rewriting the voice in my head that had played on a loop for so long. The voice that told me I was ugly. The voice that told me I was unworthy and unlovable. The voice that told me my disability was shameful. It was as if I was shedding my old skin, making way for self-love and self-acceptance after too many years of shame and hatred.

I can't help but feel like 2020 is a reckoning of sorts when it comes to disabilities—a moving of the needle toward inclusion, accessibility, opportunity and acceptance. Those are the things disability activists have been fighting for years to achieve. Because where the ADA is about literal access, Disability Pride Month is all about visibility and representation. It's about inclusion. It's about opportunity. It's about celebration. It's about having a seat at society's table.

I'm forever proud to claim my seat, to unapologetically take up space and to be included. Finally, we're seeing this trend of disabled people reclaiming what it means to have a disability. We don't typically see the words pride and disability together, but for disabled people like me, the two words go hand in hand. "Disability pride" is a declaration as much as it is a celebration, where the disability community is shouting, "Yes, disabled people want to be seen and heard. And guess what? We're not going anywhere!"

My disability pride has taught me to be more vocal. To speak up. And, yes, to show my face, especially through countless selfies on social media. Disabled people are here and we're proud. While Disability Pride Month may be about the disability community, it's also important to have support from able-bodied people.

A huge part of disability pride centers around identity. I know things like "I don't see your disability or wheelchair" are meant as compliments, but those words are actually quite hurtful. It's dismissive of my lived experience as a woman with a disability. It's like saying my disability doesn't exist. Since my disability is a part of my identity, it's like saying I don't exist. It's, again, viewing disability through the ableist lens of disability is bad and able-bodied is good. It's assuming that I want to be seen as "normal." But guess what? Spoiler alert...I am disabled. And it's not a bad word.

My hope is that one day, we won't need any entire month to remind people that it's okay to celebrate disabilities and that society will celebrate us because they see our inherent worth and dignity just like we do. Until that day, though, here's a reminder one more time: Please, see my wheelchair. See my disability. See all of me.

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There's an unexpected downfall to banning plastic straws. Here's what to consider.

Cities are starting to ban plastic straws in an effort to minimize waste. Great news, right?

Well, that depends.

Nobody likes waste, but sometimes in our rush to eliminate it, we don't think through the consequences of our actions. Take, for example, the push to ban plastic straws.

As of July 1, restaurants in Seattle are banned from giving customers non-recyclable plastic utensils or straws. Restaurants can still provide customers with a number of durable or compostable utensils or straws upon request.

Other cities that have banned or restricted the use of straws include Edmonds, Washington; Miami Beach and Fort Myers Beach, Florida; Monmouth Beach, New Jersey; and a slew of California towns including Alameda, Berkeley, Carmel, Davis, Malibu, Manhattan Beach, Oakland, Richmond, and San Luis Obispo.

[rebelmouse-image 19346017 dam="1" original_size="750x436" caption="Photo by Ayotunde Oguntoyinbo/Unsplash." expand=1]Photo by Ayotunde Oguntoyinbo/Unsplash.

But for some people, the disappearance of plastic straws is really bad news.

Flexible, single-use plastic straws are what make it possible for many disabled people to drink beverages. Eliminating them means requiring people to drink directly from the lip of their cup — a function that many disabled people simply aren't able to perform.

Many have suggested commonsense alternatives to plastic straws, like paper or metal ones. But in an interview with iNews, Scottish disability rights activist Jamie Szymkowiak explained exactly why popular alternatives don't meet the needs of some disabled individuals.

Permanent straw options, like metal or bamboo, are too hard for some people who rely on the flexibility of a plastic straw. (Injury is also a risk.) Biodegradable paper straws have a tendency to disintegrate when placed into heated drinks — which can pose a hazard of its own — and porous silicone straws require cleaning immediately after use.

Some might ask why people who need access to old-school plastic straws don't just purchase and bring their own wherever they go.

And sure, that is technically a solution. But making disabled people pay for something that's available to everyone else for free is a type of tax. While it's not necessarily an expensive tax, these types of things add up, and implementing a policy that makes the simple act of drinking prohibitive to certain groups sets a bad precedent.

[rebelmouse-image 19346018 dam="1" original_size="750x437" caption="Photo by Horia Varlan/Wikimedia Commons." expand=1]Photo by Horia Varlan/Wikimedia Commons.

The real problem is that cities considering restrictions simply aren't taking disabled voices into account.

Gabrielle Peters, a disabled writer living in Vancouver, has been keeping tabs on her city's plans to ban straws. What's concerning to her is that even after disability advocates presented information to elected officials, she felt their concerns were largely ignored.

Also troubling to Peters is the fact that the specific push to ban straws appears to be driven by a viral video about a turtle with a straw stuck in its nostril rather than on researched facts and statistics.

"We should feel compelled to act," she says. "But it is essential we temper our emotional response with considered thought so we don't respond in a way that ends up doing something that causes additional, different, and potentially more widespread suffering."

Peters' solution is simple: "People who don’t need straws should not use them. People who do should."

"We need to make straws accessible to those who need them," she says. "Don't turn them into a medical item, which will negatively affect availability and lead to increased expense and stigma."

As someone with dysphagia, a condition marked by a difficulty swallowing, Peters has at points relied on straws to avoid burns, broken glasses, and spilled drinks. (She's careful to note, though, that straws won't necessarily help all people with dysphagia.)

"Our solutions and adaptations are not something you can neatly chart. We figure out what works for our bodies AND our lives," she says.

In this case, that might mean people who don't need straws voluntarily choosing not to use them while also letting them remain available for those who do.

This photo shows an injured Marine, but it's important to remember that disability takes many forms and isn't necessarily something the average observer can see in someone else. Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images.

It's important to look clearly at a problem before jumping to a  "solution" that doesn't actually make sense.

Maybe a plastic straw ban wouldn't personally affect you; maybe it seems like a small price to pay if it has a big impact on improving the health of the world's oceans. But here's the thing: It doesn't!

What makes the entire debate over straws that much more confusing is the fact that disposable straws don't actually contribute much to the abundance of plastic waste relative to other items in the ocean. So by proposing a ban on them, we're asking disabled people to sacrifice a lot in order to gain just a little in the fight for environmental health. And by doing that, we're demonstrating a frightening lack of empathy.

As a society, we are far too quick to write off the concerns of marginalized groups as insignificant or inconvenient.

The next time someone comes to you with a concern, especially if it relates to inclusion or accessibility, try to make a real effort to actually hear what they have to say, and then maybe ask yourself why something like banning a plastic straw is so important to you, anyway.

If we can't take care of each other, we can't take care of the earth. So let's start there.

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Shopping can be stressful for disabled people. These 6 tips can help immensely.

Shopping for that perfect outfit can be an ordeal. But for a lot of disabled people, it can be downright hellish.

In fact, many folks will opt to shop online because of the inaccessibility and ableism they often encounter in-store.

In 2014, Trailblazers, UK-based disability rights campaign, interviewed a group of 100 disabled people between the ages of 16 and 30. According to the report, three-quarters of the respondents said they feel coerced into shopping online due to the limited accessibility at stores. In fact, two-thirds said that a place's physical accessibility determines whether they will visit it or go somewhere else.

But it's not just accessibility that makes a shopping experience unpleasant for disabled: About half of respondents say retail workers' attitudes dissuade them from returning to a store.

Millions of people around the world are physically disabled, which deserves better attention and awareness.

On June 26, Frances Ryan, a disability rights journalist, took to Twitter to address some of the obstacles people with disabilities deal with just to go shopping. "What would make clothes shopping more accessible for you?" she asked. "Are there any shops you particularly love for getting it right?"

Her tweet received hundreds of replies. Here's a few of their suggestions:

1. Make fitting rooms accessible.

A lot of disabled people either use wheelchairs and/or need a relative or caretaker to help them try on clothes. Larger fitting rooms would give the space they need to figure out whether that sundress or trousers are worth buying.

In addition to creating more space, some simple adjustments could also be made: hooks to hang canes on, grab bars, and/or more seats, to help prevent toppling over when trying on things like jeans.

2. Lower the checkout counter.

High checkout counters can make a simple purchase extremely difficult for wheelchair users. Some stores have recognized this issue and made adjustments: The UK clothing company Primark, for example, offers a checkout counter for disabled shoppers.

3. Keep the sales floor clear of clothes or accessories.

This is something able-bodied shoppers and retail workers can help out with. If the floor's covered with dropped clothes or boxes of product, it gets in the way of shoppers who use wheelchairs, canes, motorized shopping carts, or any other mobility device. That's an added — and completely unnecessary — hassle.

4. Offering at-home try-ons for online shoppers.

Making online purchases can be anything but fruitful, since clothes often fit awkwardly or are the wrong size altogether. The return process can be hectic and stressful, too, when there are limited time periods for returns and refunds.

One way retailers can minimize this frustration is to follow MM.LaFleur's example: Ship items for an in-home try-on before purchasing.

5. Include disabled models in advertisements and online stores.

While inclusivity is important, featuring both ambulatory and wheelchair-using disabled models provides a realistic depiction of the items available for purchase. Beyonce's "Formation" athleisure line featured a wheelchair user in her online store — that's how it's done.

6. Offer more detailed descriptions of items.

Many blind and low-vision people navigate the internet using text-to-speech apps or screen readers. Providing more details — from the specific color to the style of a dress — would allow them to make more well-informed and accurate purchases.

These are just a few ways that stores can make shopping a little bit easier for disabled shoppers.

But the onus is not just on companies and retail workers. It's easy for able-bodied people to take the little things for granted, but speaking up and advocating for accessibility is something that we should all take part in.

Whether that's by writing letters to theaters to screen movies with subtitles or suggesting a store manager add seating and grab bars in the fitting rooms, every bit of help can go a long way.

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