Becky the Disabled Barbie, and disabled living.

The following is taken from the facebook page for the Claiming Crip blog

We need to talk about Becky.

She may be a nostalgic Barbie from the 90s, but her story matters now 20 years later.

The toys we play with shape the way we view and understand the world in which we live. Becky existed in a world that was not made for her, and instead of changing the world to fit the people, or dolls, in it, those who didn’t fit were simply removed.

This story matters because it’s a real, and it’s played out every single day in our world.

We live in a world where the first thing you’re taught as a disabled kid is that you need to try as hard as you can to pass as “normal”. We live in a world that is still more focused on “fixing” or “eradicating” people like me than including us.

I am Becky. I do not have the same access to housing, transportation, employment, healthcare, and so many other things as my nondisabled siblings, and yet instead of hearing outrage, I hear people talk about the importance of “death with dignity” instead of talking about the importance of a good life for disabled people.

Instead of seeing inequity, people so often think that disability is the problem.

People still don’t recognize that it is not my wheelchair that keeps me out of a building or a taxi, but the lack of a ramp.

People still look at me in shock when I declare that I am #disabledandunashamed because #disabledisnotabadthing

We need to talk about Becky because people feel uncomfortable when they hear her story. We need to talk about Becky because her story didn’t surprise me.

We need to talk about Becky because it’s not about a toy, it’s about people, access, and finding your space in the world.

We need to talk about Becky because she was designed, in the early years of a post-ADA America, presumably to teach children about the importance of inclusion, but her disappearance shows us the reality of being disabled in America, even 20 years later.)

We need to talk about Becky, and we need to talk about disability, and we need to talk about living conditions for those of us who are disabled.

I’m all about death with dignity, but we do need to talk about living conditions for those of us with disabilities. We live somewhere that is inaccessible for my wheel chair, both because it has stairs, and because the driveway and the little roads around in the park are gravel and my chair doesn’t have the wheels to handle that. There was nowhere that was accessible, affordable and available in the time we needed it when we had to move, so I use my cane to move around here at home. I use my cane in the house anyway, but I mean as far as outside the house. I can use it away from the house (stores, etc. which is why we fought for it), but I can’t use it here, and it makes it really difficult on days when I just want to go outside, but I can’t handle stairs or walking.


My IV Bruise from the other day

As expected I bruised where they got the iv placed for my cortisol stimulation test (which took six pokes including the one that placed it, which also needed an ultrasound machine to visualize to place it properly), and I bruised  at some of the attempted iv sites too.

Here are two pictures (one – outside – from this morning, and one – inside – from this afternoon – with a better camera) showing how I have bruised from that IV. It’s a pretty good sized bruise, and is all around one of my skin biopsy scars.

Oh yeah…. I’ve got scars from skin biopsies checking moles for cancer.



AM on the left, PM on the right.