One afternoon in May 1985, I had done my classes and chores for the day. Graduation was coming soon, so it was time to reflect, retreat, and take refuge, time to go to that quiet, secluded place where I could relax, and take a moment for myself and my mental well-being.

While sitting on my couch, with no interruptions, I reviewed my life and the series of events that challenged me to grow until I became the person I wanted to be. Certain mental images and positive convictions shaped me. They defined me. They transformed my being, molding me into this person I’ve worked so hard to become.

When I think back on that spring day, when a light of hope and joy appeared, bringing happiness and contentment, filling what had felt like an empty space in my soul, filling my heart. Something I succeeded at by pouring every effort into it.

Throughout those college years, I found my voice, my self-confidence, and a self-worth that no one could ever take away. The reason I fought as hard as I did was because that became my purpose in life—to live, to breathe, to exist, and to give back to the world unconditionally.

“I can do this!” I told myself. “No one is going to label me and call me a retard. No one! I am going to beat this system.”

Gratitude came to mind, gratitude for giving myself the strength, courage, and confidence to keep moving forward, especially in controlling my life’s journey and claiming my right as a person with disabilities to dignity and respect.

I was immensely grateful for my willingness, for my fortitude, for my determination to stay the course and achieve my goals and dreams, to leap over every hurdle blocking my path. Thus, giving thanks for all the experiences I faced and took on, I kept going over and over my life’s experiences. I struggled to believe I had accomplished all that I had.

How empowering, powerful, and life altering for that little infant who was going to be deaf, dumb, and blind, according to the doctors.

That little girl, who wore a full length leg brace, even learned to dance. I learned to read and write with dyslexia, and learned what 2 + 2 equaled. I threw away my leg brace at age eleven—never to wear it again.

Because of my grit and determination, and dance lessons with Al Gilbert, this all became possible, including taking on the system, and winning a civil rights case for my own education and for everyone else in this world. I rejected all critics, objectors, and people who tried to disrupt my life’s path and deter me from my destination. I rose above them all, vowing to be better than what they deemed or considered possible for me to become. It was time for me to accept all that I had mastered and manifested.

You see, I wanted to become the best person my mama Katie always wanted me to be. Therefore, I did everything in my power to open the doors for myself, and for others, too. Simply to fit into a world that didn’t accept me. Thank you, Mama.

Never Giving In

Maybe I can learn
To read
To write
And to spell someday

And when tomorrow comes
The trumpets will blow their horns.

For that day will be glorious
As all the effort,
And all the long hours of devotion and dedication
Of hard work, well done,
Will be reality.

My dream
Will have come to pass
I will be at one
I will be united
I will be at peace with my heart’s desire
Never again drifting into defeat!