Disability Is Personal: Honoring Every Journey

Disability isn’t one-size-fits-all. It isn’t neat, tidy, or easily explained. For every person who lives with a disability, the relationship they have with that identity is uniquely their own — shaped by life experiences, diagnosis, access to support, and faith.

When I lost my vision at 32 years old, it was after surviving cancer. At the time, I wasn’t yet a mother. I was still navigating who I was, and then I had to redefine that entirely. A good friend of mine, a fellow social worker, told me something that changed my life: “You have to grieve the loss of your vision.” It was the best piece of advice I’ve ever received. That grief gave me permission to feel all the feelings — anger, denial, sadness, even a little bargaining with God — before finding acceptance. It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen.

And in that process, I realized: there is no “right” way to feel about your disability.

Some people are born with a disability. Some acquire it later in life due to injury, illness, or age. Some disabilities are temporary, like a broken leg or a concussion. Others are lifelong. There are visible disabilities — like using a wheelchair, a white cane, or sign language — and there are invisible ones — like chronic pain, anxiety, or neurodivergence.

And that’s just scratching the surface.

The Words We Use Matter

Language shapes the way we see people — and the way people see themselves. It’s time to retire the word “handicapped.” It’s outdated, and frankly, it’s offensive. When we refer to parking or bathrooms, let’s call them what they are: ACCESSIBLE.. Accessible parking. Accessible entrances. Accessible restrooms. These words center on usability and inclusion, not deficit or limitation.

Just as the Episcopal Church has embraced inclusive language around gender and sexuality — like normalizing the use of pronouns — we also need to be mindful about how we speak about disability.

If you’re referring to a person who has a disability, just say “disabled.” It’s not a bad word. It’s not something to whisper or shy away from. It’s a descriptor — not a judgment.

Person-First vs. Identity-First Language

You may have heard the phrases “person-first language” (PFL) and “identity-first language” (IFL). Let’s break them down:

• Person-first language prioritizes the individual over the diagnosis.
  • Example: “Dr. Bonner is a person with a disability.”
  • “She is a person who is legally blind.”
    This honors the fullness of a person’s identity — showing that they are more than a diagnosis. In the eyes of God, they are a beloved child, not a condition.
• Identity-first language acknowledges that disability can be an integral part of someone’s identity — something they embrace as a core aspect of their culture and experience.
  • Example: “Dr. Bonner is a blind person.”
  • “She is a disabled woman.”
    This language affirms that the disability is not something to hide, but something that shapes community, perspective, and pride.

So which should you use?
The answer is simple: Ask. There’s no universal preference. Some people feel more comfortable with one form over the other. By asking, you show respect, compassion, and a willingness to learn — which is what allyship is all about.

A Complicated Relationship

Disability is often painted in extremes. Either we’re inspirational heroes overcoming the odds or we’re portrayed as tragic figures deserving of pity. The truth is far more nuanced.

Every person with a disability has a unique relationship with their body, mind, and experiences. Some embrace the term “disabled” proudly as part of their identity. Others may use terms like “chronically ill” or simply refer to their specific condition. Some days, we feel strong and empowered. Other days, we feel frustrated, exhausted, or isolated.

There’s no single narrative — and there shouldn’t be.

When I founded this blog, I didn’t do it to speak on behalf of every disabled person. I did it to share what I’ve learned, and to invite others — especially within the Episcopal Church — to walk alongside the disability community as allies.

Why This Matters in the Church

In the Episcopal Church, we believe in the dignity of every human being. However, that dignity must be reflected in our language, our architecture, and our welcome. Understanding the basic terminology around disability is more than a vocabulary lesson — it’s the first step toward true inclusion.

When we understand the diverse ways disability shows up in people’s lives, we begin to see one another more clearly. We move past assumptions. We embrace empathy. We make room — not just physically, but spiritually.

And that is the heart of the Gospel.