Ramblings of a bisexual Christian little person

Earlier this evening, I was driving into town listening to a country music station, when an advertisement caught my ear. Apparently the motorcycle rally "Thunder in the Rockies" hosts an event "Extreme Midget Wrestling."  Here is the letter I sent to the radio station: As an individual with dwarfism, I was shocked and disappointed to hear an advertisement for "Extreme Midget Wrestling"on your station. The term “midget” is outdated and highly offensive to most of us with short  stature, because it originated with the “freakshow” era when little people did not  have rights as equal members of society. Quoting from the website “Understanding  Dwarfism” (http://www.udprogram.com/basic-facts-3-2), “ in recent decades,  midget has become recognized as a derogatory, hurtful term, a term of derision  used to ridicule short-statured individuals...it is a word that identifies a person of s hort stature as a “lowbar” spectacle, cheap gag, and sideshow act.” Th

Growing up as a little person, I didn't think I had a disability.  I went to school, hung out with my friends, participated in music and sports.  I was involved with Little People of America (LPA), where I was told that I wasn't disabled, just different (specifically: short).  When I began competing in swimming at the national and international level, I shed many tears over the labels of "disabled" and "handicapped" surrounding the events I competed at.  I preferred "challenged", or "physically different." I understood the concept of "disabled" as something bad, something I didn't want to be, a small, limiting box of an identity that my life just didn't fit into.   As I started using a scooter more, it began considerably more difficult to deny that I was disabled.  As I met more people with disabilities and started reading online about disability advocacy, my idea of what it meant to have a disability expanded, and I r

Helping people is a good thing.  This a fundamental truth of humanity.  Young children are taught from a young age to always help someone in need.   But how often do we pause and ask ourselves, what if the person we’re trying to help doesn’t need or want our assistance?   Having a disability, people automatically assume that I can’t do things.  Sometimes, they’re right - no, I can’t carry that heavy box of beer, it would be wonderful if you would do so.  But more often than not, they’re completely wrong.  I can open an ADA-compliant door, get in and out of my car, push up a hill.  Believe it or not, I’ve got the whole being-an-independent-adult thing down.    Disability makes people uncomfortable.  They don’t know how to deal with it.  People can’t fathom the fact that someone with a body so different from their own, with various parts that may be missing, not function, or function differently, might be a happy, independent, productive member of society.  So they react by tryi