I’ve spent my whole life pretending to be non-disabled

This First Person article is the experience of Abi Oyewole who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

In 2018, shortly after surgery, I used a walking stick to help maintain my balance. On my way to a doctor’s appointment, I noticed people staring at me. Some even stopped me and asked why I was using a walking stick. I didn’t like standing out in that way. It made me feel broken — like I did something to deserve the physical and mental battles I was going through. 

So I stopped using my walking stick. Instead, I painfully and slowly walked around. I’d internalized the judgments from strangers. And what’s worse is my doctor made me doubt myself because he said I was too young to need a walking stick. 

After years battling with health professionals, I was officially diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a condition that causes pain all over the body, later in 2018. I also have chronic fatigue syndrome, irritable bowel syndrome, hypertension, sleep apnea, chronic migraines, chronic rhinitis, sickle cell anemia trait, scoliosis, arthritis in my feet and  knees, costochondritis, depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder and ADHD. And these are just my diagnosed conditions. I still have some unknown health issues so there’s a chance more could be added to this list. 

Disability is not always visible 

Most of these health issues aren’t visible so people can’t just look at me and determine that I have them. When I’m struggling, there’s no outward sign of it which makes it hard for me to get accommodations. But I want people to understand that when I need extra time to respond to a message, I’m not making excuses or faking it.

After my fibromyalgia diagnosis, I decided to apply for government-funded disability benefits. The same family doctor who ridiculed my walking stick was hesitant to support my decision. He told me I didn’t have the appropriate “look” of a disabled person with a broken leg or arm. I understood that for him, a disability is always visible. 

I felt a deep despair after our conversation, which didn’t help my depression. I felt gaslit and the pressure to pretend to be alright because my disabilities aren’t visible. I internalized my doctor’s words and started thinking maybe he was right. Maybe I’m not as disabled as I think.

When my occupational therapist gave me a rollator, I barely used it. I didn’t want to be judged by strangers and have people assume that I was simply seeking attention. In the past, doctors have blamed mobility issues on my weight. So I was self-conscious after years of being fat shamed. I didn’t want people to think that I was simply using the rollator because I was fat.

One time, I was using my rollator in public, and a white man who was limping yelled at me. He said to me, “People like you get wheelchairs so easily.” I suspect he meant Black people. I felt scared and unsafe. 

So I kept pretending I didn’t need my mobility aids even though it caused me extreme pain and fatigue. It also limited how far I could go or how long I could be out for, and I would instead take the transit or drive to places even if it was technically walking distance. In that moment, I thought it was better to fake being non-disabled than being accused of pretending to have my disabilities for money, support and attention.

‘I realized that I didn’t have to always hide my disabilities’

After hearing other disabled people’s struggles and experiences on “#DisabilityTwitter” — the online community tweeting about disabilities — I learned about ableism, our society’s discimination against individuals with disabilities, and how it affected my life. 

I realized that I didn’t have to always hide my disabilities and that those who made me feel bad for talking about my disabilities were wrong. So I decided to no longer fake being well or fake being non-disabled. I realized I was prioritizing other’s comforts over mine. I was prioritizing other’s feelings and prejudices over protecting my own health. And I realized that I deserve better, I deserve to be myself however that might look like and that I shouldn’t have to allow fear to control my life. 

It feels so liberating to be more open about my disabilities. I still get nervous sometimes but at the same time, I have nothing to hide.

Abi Oyewole is a disabled creator who loves anime, cats, sci-fi shows, cosplay, art and cute things.

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For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.