PSA about invisible disabilities and public transportation
I write this PSA because it’s something that needs to be said: not all disabilities are visible, which means that sometimes, people with disabilities look perfectly healthy on the outside. “Invisible disabilities” actually count for 96% of all disabilities. This seems kind of mind-blowing if you don’t have experience with invisible disabilities, either personal or from a loved one. This is because we are taught from a young age that all people with disabilities use canes, wheelchairs, and other mobility devices to assist them in their daily activities.
While there certainly is a significant population of people around the world who use mobility devices (go you, you badasses with personalized wheels and canes!), there is an even larger population who don’t. This is due to many reasons, but one of the biggest, I believe, is shame. People, without the knowledge of invisible disabilities, can accidentally or intentionally shame you for using a mobility device when you look quite healthy on the outside. When I’m having a particularly low-energy, high-pain day due to the invisible disabilities fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, I have someone push me in a wheelchair. Because I’m lucky enough to have (decent) functioning in my limbs, when I get on and off of public transportation, to save time and space for other passengers (let alone deal with inaccessible transport options, such as stations that don’t have elevators or gaps small enough between the train and the platform to realistically have a wheelchair cross), I stand up, fold up my wheelchair, and have a friend take it on for me. The looks I get as I do this range from “what the hell is a healthy person doing in a wheelchair?” to “I just saw God for the first time” because the person doesn’t understand that not everyone who uses a wheelchair has no use of their legs. I write this PSA not to have your pity, but your understanding. It’s awkward to be misunderstood and even shamed for doing what’s right for me on a day when I feel sicker than usual.
Some basic tips for people with invisible disabilities:
You have the right to ask someone to give up their seat for you.
Approach someone who looks healthier than you (try not to ask someone with a mobility device or who looks sick/exhausted/overwhelmed to move, as there will be other people to ask - we have to bond together here!) and say something to the effect of, “Hi, I have a chronic pain disorder, may I take your seat?” Show gratitude, whether in words or facial expressions, to people who move for you. Some people will be jerks and not move right away. That’s okay. You have the opportunity to educate them about the fact that they are lucky not to understand you completely, but you do need the seat more than they do. This is a hard thing to do because it requires immense courage, but you will get better with practice. I promise.
You have the right to ask for any assistance you need from people who work for the transportation authority. They may give you the side-eye at first, and ask you some silly question like, “is the assistance for your grandparent?” But hold out for hope because their job is to help you. I promise.
You have the right to ask for help from anyone who passes you if you are alone and carrying bags that are too heavy for you to carry without pain. They have the right to say no, but keep asking others. Your hopes will get answered. I promise.
You have the right to get frustrated if people don’t understand you, believe you, or give you respect. While we would always love to be kind educators to the world, bringing to the public the crucial enlightenment that we have had to learn through immense pain and fatigue of the body, we are human. You are allowed to get mad. You are allowed to be upset. You are allowed to be frustrated. You are allowed to complain. But know that others will hear your message more if you are able to realize that they are just human as well. They don’t know what you go through on a daily basis and that makes them incredibly lucky, but still uneducated, and this is a chance to make one more person in the world knowledgable of invisible disabilities. It’s okay if you can’t reach them; all you can do is try your best. Their comments and responses have nothing to do with you and everything to do with their past experiences and knowledge, so let them slide off your back. I know that this is so much easier said than done, but it gets easier with practice. I promise.
Always remember this: you are worthy of respect and others’ belief, but your worth as a person does not come from others, from being able-bodied, or being believed. Your worth comes from being a human being. You are worthy simply because you are you. I promise.
Some basic tips for able-bodied people (click “able-bodied” if you want a definition):
Understand that you are privileged in ways you can’t fully comprehend until you see the perspective of someone who is not as lucky as you.
Understand that people use wheelchairs for different reasons and try not to look shocked or disgusted if someone stands up after using one. Chances are 99.9999% that they’re not faking it just so they can sit down. Trust me, it’s not that glamorous or enviable.
Certain seats on public transportation say “priority seats for people with disabilities/children/who are pregnant,” so try to occupy a different seat if you can, just in case someone with an invisible disability hasn’t yet gathered up the immense courage necessary to look into a stranger’s eyes and say “hi, I need this seat because (x, y, z).” This is the same reason for which you should not block an otherwise open seat with your bags or take up more than one seat by stretching out unnecessarily.
Give up your seat when asked, unless you are having a truly horrible health day, too.
Give the right of way to someone using a mobility device or who looks like they are having trouble walking or moving.
Assume the best of others. Always remember this: everyone is trying their best. Their best is different from yours, but that does not invalidate it.
TL;DR: Some days, people with invisible disabilities feel well enough to go without any special accommodations. For example, some days, I can hike!
Some days, however, are days when I need extra assistance because I have low energy and high pain. And that’s okay too. I’m still a person who deserves respect on those days. Not all disabilities are visible, but that doesn’t mean we deserve to feel invisible when we ask for help. Please read if you are a person with an invisible disability who struggles to ask for the help you need or if you are an able-bodied person who doesn’t want to be in the dark about this issue.
