My eyes flitted across my laptop screen and a certain name gripped my attention. For anyone who has witnessed and fallen hard for the grandeur of the Marvel Cinematic Universe over the last decade, the name, Chris Evans should mean something. He portrayed the American dream personified, the ideal soldier with the most righteous moral compass to give hope to those that had lost faith in both country and fellow man. He embodied the role of Captain America with grace and intention; increasing the heart rates of many people across the globe (for fairly obvious reasons. People’s Sexiest Man Alive 2022, anyone?).
The video was a recorded conversation with an extremely witty, British interviewer about Mr Evans, Mr Sebastian Stan and The Winter Soldier. More often than should legally be allowed, I tend to go down a YouTube rabbit hole for hours at a time. This video probably popped up on my radar sometime in hour three. One of the questions caused me to ponder and ruminate. The reason will be clear in just a few sentences. Over the eons, a supposedly salient question is asked to young tots, adolescents and adults alike. The answers are oft quite similar and are quite telling, from a psychological point of view (but that’s another article entirely). Variations of this seemingly germane enquiry has been asked time and time again – “If you had to choose just one superpower, what would it be?”
Some hesitate to contemplate and search through their conscious (or perhaps subconscious) mind for the ideal response. Others immediately reply with such authority. I may be paraphrasing but most eventually utter these words, “the power of invisibility.” Whether they would use their power for good is entirely their prerogative. Whether the phrase was uttered out of the emotions/negative headspace produced by hostile
environments or childhood trauma, that in turn stifle the person’s identity and true expression of self. The rationale or agendas are not what is imperative here.
Invisibility may seem like a uber cool blessing in a hypothetical existence or alternate multiverse situation or even the metaverse, but as someone who experiences it in this reality, more often than one would think, it is mostly the opposite. It can happen daily or weekly. It could be subtle, overt or implied. Past experiences are the perfect illustrative tool to properly convey the right degree of emphasis. To put a very important disclaimer before we proceed on this wordage journey, these stories are not for one to pity me or feel shame; I
merely want to spread awareness so one can be fully aware in any future interaction with other disabled individuals.
The air surrounding the parking lot at The Palms was a tad on the hotter side but the entrance was a short glide away from where the car was parked. After scaling a slightly too steep bump, we got to the glass doors that were beings semi- ferociously guarded by a couple of sombre female and male security guards. My carer’s and sister’s bags were searched and the “wand,” was waved over their entire beings. The oddest thing occurred when I stepped up to the metaphorical plate. The guards explicitly told me to roll on through without checking my person, bag or wheelchair. To the naked, non-judgemental eye, this may seem right-minded , but allow me to dissect and express how it made me feel. Now more than over, I am not a fan of assumptions. The guards assumed that because I was a disabled girl to be pitied, I could not possibly be smuggling in any illegal items.
Why would a harmless mobility-challenged, non-person like me try to pull a fast one? What if I was a nefarious delinquent, intent on committing a heinous act or wrongdoing? The point being made is that I felt incontrovertibly invisible; not once did the guards look me in the eye or even stop to question my intentions by searching me like they would, “normal” people also known as able-bodied homo sapiens?
Another instance when I felt unseen by all was at what could be referred as a quote-unquote high-profile event. A very bourgeois and hoity-toity party. Everyone was decked to the nines, making merry, networking, flirting. We arrived fairly early. The first mini-obstacle was convincing the gateperson that my wheelchair van needed to be parked briefly on the estate grounds to allow me descend safely from my modified vehicle. As soon as I got into the venue, I had to keep shouting, to get people’s attention so I do not run over their delicate toes with my slightly heavy electric Whill chair. A lot of them ignored my pleas, so my carer had to clear the way by tapping shoulders and briefly explaining why they had to move a couple of feet. Surprisingly, there were a few fleeting looks of exasperation preceding plastered fake smiles and trite platitudes of sorrys and peles.
We finally found a corner to park and figure out our nocturnal game plan to survive our immediate environment. Some quirky (trying to be as PC as possible, y’all) things happened whilst we were mid-sentence, complimenting people’s fashion choices. Instead of going round one of the tables, with no obstruction, several people decided to essentially jump over the back of the wheelchair, like I was invisible to all. I had to keep moving forwards and backwards to accommodate the passers-by decision to inconvenience me. Whether it was a calculated decision or absentminded choice, I felt less than and unnoticed, ignored and unremarked. Why couldn’t people just see me and acknowledge my existence? Was I really that unremarkable?
Needless to say, I had to rally and shift my mindset so my night was not ruined, my confidence left in tatters.
To paint a more telling picture, going out and usually being the only wheelchair user at a venue can be daunting. The looks of pity, the thoughtless comments about my weight or something even less trivial, the obvious stares and pointing – can penetrate even the toughest armour slash exterior. To thoroughly enjoy myself in public and fully commit to my carpe diem state of mind, I had to learn to not care what people thought, ignore ignorant behaviour, be patient and kind, and at times, politely educate and spread awareness. Luckily, I rely on God to give me strength, grace and mercy to accommodate, even when I really want to verbally deck some obnoxious and selfish person, inadvertently (hopefully) trying to make me feel small.
Wheelchair Girl 
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