‘People say I don’t really need a wheelchair’
Amy Anderson, a 31-year-old primary school teacher from Woodbridge, Suffolk, shares her journey living with cerebral palsy, a condition she was diagnosed with at just two years old. Recently, she found herself feeling alienated from the disabled community when a colleague’s husband questioned the validity of her need for a wheelchair. “That comment cut deep, even though it wasn’t meant to offend. It made me feel like I was on the ‘fringe’ of the community,” she recalls. This experience ignited her “Not Disabled Enough” social media campaign aimed at raising awareness about the nuanced experiences of those who, like her, often feel caught between worlds.
Reflecting on her feelings, she describes, “Sometimes I feel like I’m not disabled enough to participate in certain activities, yet too disabled to engage in others.” This sentiment resonates with many, and Amy is determined to amplify these voices through her online platforms, where she shares her day-to-day experiences.
The inspiration for her campaign struck when discussing her experiences with friends. Many agreed there was a lack of awareness surrounding individuals who use wheelchairs part-time. “There was a moment when I was in my wheelchair in Woodbridge, and a colleague remarked, ‘I’ve never seen you in a wheelchair.’ I overheard her husband say, ‘But she doesn’t really need it, does she?'” Amy explains. “I hear comments like this often, even from family members who don’t know me well. Meanwhile, those who are unaware of my disability sometimes claim, ‘I didn’t even notice you were disabled,’ which leads me to miss out on potential support.”
Cerebral palsy affects movement and coordination, resulting from issues with the brain that develop before, during, or shortly after birth. It impacts roughly one in every 400 babies in the UK each year, and symptoms can vary from day to day. “Only a small percentage of people in wheelchairs can’t walk at all,” she points out. “For many, it’s about managing fatigue and ensuring longevity in their activities. Yet, people often misunderstand and say, ‘But you can walk,’ which feels dismissive.”
With the challenges of navigating the world as a person with a disability, Amy recognizes that acceptance is a journey. “I know I’m never going to be fully able-bodied, but how can I embrace my identity as a proud member of the disabled community?” she asks.
In May, Amy took a significant step by quitting her job and traveling the world for a year, a dream she’d long yearned to pursue. Unfortunately, her plans hit roadblocks when her working visa applications for Australia and New Zealand were denied due to concerns about medical costs. “I found myself in tears for a week,” she shares. “Traveling can be tough; I can’t hike or ride rickety buses, but I don’t need constant assistance either.”
Despite these hurdles, Amy managed to secure a role at a summer camp in the United States, working with girls aged 7 to 11. The camp made accommodations for her disability, allowing her to thrive. “Working with kids is a passion of mine. I want to teach them that ‘disabled’ isn’t a dirty word, and when I say it, I don’t want to shy away from it,” she asserts. With ambitions to visit South Africa and Ireland next, Amy continues to seize opportunities.
However, she admits that sometimes she’s hesitant to ask for help, feeling like it undermines others who might need support more than she does. In a recent social media post, she opened up about a moment of vulnerability in a Paris train station, where she cried because she didn’t request special assistance. “I’m learning that I am enough, and my needs matter,” she reflects. “I want to raise awareness to show that while I manage, there’s a lot going on beneath the surface. I want others to see that we’re not alone in this and that I’m part of this community.”
