Over the last month, I’ve been thinking that while I’ve revealed many of my core personality traits to you, my dear readers, during the past year and a half, there are still so many things that those of you who have never met me personally would not know about me.
As I’ve mentioned before, I consider all of you who choose to read my inner ramblings on a monthly basis my friends — so I wanted to begin this piece by peeling back one of the more easily distinguishable parts of my personality.
I am, and always have been, an avid lover of fashion and all things beauty.
My mom jokes that when I was in elementary school, she could always tell I was beginning to get sick if I did not want to wear a dress that particular day. If that isn’t a blatant indication of my femme personality, here is another one of my earliest distinct memories. Around the time I was 4, I began sneaking into my mom’s bathroom. My grandma, who was my accomplice, opened doors and cabinets for me while I helped myself to one of my mom’s lip glosses, which I would then go and hide in my room. I did this on several other occasions until my toddler self was content with my newfound makeup collection. Then when I was alone, I would slather the colors of the glosses onto my lips, smiling and marveling at my beauty in my full-length bathroom mirror.
It was the first time I can recall thinking I looked pretty. And one of the unfortunate things that have happened as I have gotten older and become more self-aware is that those genuine moments of satisfaction in my appearance have become fewer and farther between due to my inability to measure up to the societal norms of beauty.
In a way, just by being myself and by taking interest in clothes and makeup at such a young age, I was rebelling against the disparaging disability stereotype. The stereotype dictates that our bodies are too innately broken to allow us to feel any type of pride in our physical appearance. Because God forbid we be anything but self-conscious about our bodies.
Those of you who have been reading my column from the beginning might remember one of my very early pieces about how much of my schooling had been done remotely long before remote learning was even a thing. And even though I by no means had to, I always carefully chose an outfit and did my hair every day. Truth be told, I don’t think it was even a conscious decision. It most likely stemmed from watching my mom pick out her outfits for work, and I just thought that was what everyone did. The fact that I didn’t leave the house on a daily basis didn’t make any difference to me because I learned, especially when I got older, that putting myself together every day gave me the confidence I needed to face the day.
Societal norms combined with the fact that not many pieces of clothing are made to fit my unique curves, or those of most other disabled people, was enough to completely destroy any positive thoughts that I had about my appearance. While I have always loved fashion, as a young disabled woman I have felt like I’ve had to conceal my body rather than show it off like other women my age. I cannot count the times I have been online shopping for clothes, wishing I could wear certain styles.
I’m far from being alone in this perspective. Keisha Greaves turned this wish into a fashion brand for disabled people. Greaves, 34, is the founder of the adaptive clothing brand called Girls Chronically Rock. Being diagnosed with Limb-Girdle Muscular Dystrophy as a young adult opened her eyes to the market’s lack of accessible clothing.
Greaves, similar to me, feels self-conscious that she can’t wear certain clothing. When she discovered that her confidence stemmed from what she chose to wear on a given day, she decided that she would use her unique expertise to her advantage to create a new image of the disabled body.
“I think it’s majorly important for people in the disability community to be included in the fashion industry,” Greaves says. “Because people may think we don’t go out [to have] a good time or go on dates. And yes we do, we want to dress up and look fashionable just like everyone else. We may take more time to get dressed, but that’s why we need clothing that’s more functional and accessible in order to help us get dressed quicker.”
“More importantly though,” she says, “for us to feel confident in our own skin.”
Coming to terms with how my body looks has been a life-long journey for me, and maybe, someday, I will have the confidence to wear the clothing I have always wanted to wear. But until then, I’ll continue to wake up and put on clothes that help me to feel good in my own skin.
Because it’s time to turn the harmful disability stereotype on its head and begin seeing our bodies for what they are — works of art.
Joanna Buoniconti is a freelance writer and an editorial intern at INCLUDAS Publishing. She can be reached at columnist@gazettenet.com.