The fact that I had to default to a stencil for lack of an appropriate stock photo is a great example of the problem. (Photo by marianne bos on Unsplash)

Where are the Wheelchairs?

My aunt’s disabilities have been a lesson to me in representation.

If somebody asked me to describe my Aunt Lou, I’d probably start with how she’s a sharp mind with a firecracker wit and a very warm heart. I’d mention how her one-liners make everybody laugh and her advice always helps you feel more solid and capable. How a reassurance from Aunt Lou makes you know everything’s going to be okay… because she’s insightful, yes, but she’s also not a bullshitter; her words of comfort are truth. I’d mention, too, that she’s one of my favorite people to riff with about philosophy and spirituality, or to go to when I’m emotional and need a balanced perspective.

…But I’d probably not even think to mention — even though I’d definitely picture—that most of these conversations about life, love, and the mysteries of the universe happen in her bedroom. Because she spends most of her days trying to rest, and she gets winded if she’s up and about for too long.

If I were writing a character sketch, I’d go deeper, also mentioning her interests, her hobbies, her talents, and her quirks. Like how she loves science fiction movies and historical docudramas. How she has a huge stash of crayons and she colors way better than I ever could. And how, even though her favorite color is green, she has this really cool pink…