Translator: Rhonda Jacobs Reviewer: Ellen Maloney
I'm sure that I wasn't the first student to lie dazily on the floor,
words slurring, worlds spinning, struggling to stand,
but in my case, it wasn't Friday night at the Union.
I was lying on the sixth floor landing in the Humanities building,
trying to get to my history seminar.
And I wasn't drunk, but disabled.
As I lay there, looking up, watching my peers walk past me to class,
I wondered how on earth I ended up in that position.
And to tell you how that happened, I need to go back a little way first.
There are few things more devastating to a young girl
on the cusp of making her mark on the world
than having her dreams wrenched away.
I was that girl.
Like so many others, I was normal; I had hopes and dreams.
And then suddenly, I wasn't.
I was diagnosed with chronic and serious autoimmune illness at the age of 18,
and my life was swept up in a whirlwind of pain, struggle,
diagnosis, and confusion.
I felt that even showing up to life was impossible in my state.
And so I ask you now, where have you felt that life was impossible?
And where have you felt an unwanted otherness?
I felt my otherness most strongly when planning a simple shopping trip.
To go shopping, first I needed to get out of bed.
Believe me, big task.
Then, of course, I needed to get dressed,
which, with painful joints, and aches and issues, was very, very challenging.
Making a shopping list while living with memory loss and cognitive dysfunction
was another challenge, but then, the biggest struggle:
getting to the bus stop.
And so I'd come out of the house and stumble up the street,
holding onto the walls of my neighbors as I went by.
You know, people are very inconsiderate when they plan their fences.
I mean, if you're planning a garden fence, please let me tell you,
because it's a challenge;
I mean some are low, some are high,
some are spiky and that's just mean!
(Laughter)
If you're planning your own hedge, let me tell you,
the ideal is box, nicely trimmed,
so I could just topple into it, bounce back up, and stumble onwards.
But then even when I got to the bus stop,
there was otherness, there was challenge,
people would stare at me and look at me,
I'd be forced to justify, and to defend my otherness,
to explain.
"My dear, what's wrong with you?
You're so ill, but you're so young.
You're so ill; you're so young!"
Over and over.
All I wanted was to go shopping just like them.
All I wanted was to be normal.
And I felt like the only way to achieve normality
was to not be ill any more, to not be "other,"
and so I sought a cure.
And I was told by my doctors that there is no cure,
to go home, and get used to living like this.
But of course it wasn't really living, was it?
But this story is not "The Girl in the Wheelchair Made Good."
It is living well, and not a miracle cure story,
which is my happy ending.
And this story isn't just about me,
it applies to us all, wheelchair or not,
illness or not.
Because we all are human; we all struggle.
And we all carry wounds in our own ways.
And this story is not about fitting in,
because when you embrace your otherness, you can do so much more.
But history is full of misfits,
full of those who are physically or psychologically imperfect,
full of people who have somehow managed to embrace their otherness,
to accept their challenges, and then to go further.
They are not defined by what limits them,
they are instead defined by the greatness of their accomplishments,
after their so-called "otherness":
artist, Frida Kahlo,
freedom fighter, Malala Yousafzai,
and Paralympian, Tanni Grey-Thompson.
Now, all the other unsung misfits which we must also mention.
But I, of course, cannot compare myself to Frida Kahlo,
because I'm afraid that my self-portraiture
is strictly limited to (Click) #selfie.
And I cannot claim one iota the courage of Malala Yousafzai
because after I read Harry Potter, I need to hide under the covers
because I'm really scared that Voldemort is going to come and get me.
And as much as I adore moving,
the athleticism of the Paralympian Tanni Grey-Thompson -
can't approach it.
But I do identify with their seeking and gaining
acceptance and meaning
after the unwanted, unimagined, irreversible otherness
which they live through.
A few years ago, after being told "no cure,"
I was talking to my friend and we were sitting and deciding,
"Well, we'd just give my body a bit of a chance.
Try and set up the best possible environment for healing,
and let's see what happens."
I was eating a much more anti-inflammatory diet
on the grounds that if I ate more anti-inflammatory food,
I could take less anti-inflammatory painkillers.
So as we sat there talking about this,
her brother popped his head into the room,
and he looked at me and said,
"Grace, that is disgusting!"
I said, "Okay, what? What, what, what?"
And I thought, okay, my hair is messy, but it's not heinous,
and I'm actually wearing all my clothes.
"What!?"
And it was my jar of green, bright, virulent vegetable juice,
(Laughter)
which he considered disgusting.
And in that moment, I felt like such a weirdo,
and such a misfit, and such a freak.
And I was fed up of always being on the edge,
always being the one doing those weird, crazy healing things
that nobody had heard of and we weren't sure about.
And it hurt.
And I went home and said to my husband, I was crying,
I said, "I'm fed up with always being the "sick chick",
always being the weirdo".
And he said, "Grace, what if you aren't? What if you aren't the misfit?
What if you're the pioneer?
What if you aren't the freak?
What if you're the trailblazer?"
And that moment changed everything for me.
However, I do not believe
that "brokenness" is something that we have to live up to.
It's not a badge of honor.
Living with a wound does not oblige you to be an inspirational speaker,
despite evidence to the contrary.
(Laughter)
In fact, I believe that living day to day as yourself and loving yourself
exactly as you are is a revolutionary act for a misfit.
But what if the very idea of a misfit is a myth?
You see, there's a concept
that if we work hard enough, and we try,
if we buy the right books and we go to the right classes,
if we buy the right clothes and we pay enough of the money to the right people,
then one day, we too will become perfect,
and we too will fit in.
But misfits make mistakes and magic.
Perfectionism is the opposite of the pioneer.
Recently, I struggled with what the doctors thought was a stroke.
After years of dedication and progress, it felt like everything fell away again.
I lost almost all sensation
and a lot of the strength and movement in the right side of my body.
I had to learn to write again.
I had to learn to walk again, again.
But in that moment when part of me didn't even fit with the rest of me,
the day they released me from hospital,
I found and commissioned an artist to paint henna,
and paint beautiful artwork on the part of my body that I could not feel,
and in that way, I reclaimed, I embraced, and accepted
the part of myself that I struggled with.
And I believe that it's when we accept ourselves
that our internal, emotional miracles happen.
But I have done, I have been blessed and privileged to do amazing things;
things that the girl I mentioned at the beginning
would never have thought possible.
I set up two international businesses.
I help people worldwide learn to live well with illness and struggle.
If I had been spending my energy trying to fit in,
I would never have been able to be an advocate for women,
for people with disability,
for misfits and for pioneers on the scale that I have.
So maybe you are dealing with your own wound and your own struggle.
Maybe you're dealing with pain and disability like me.
Or perhaps it's alcoholism or family dysfunction or poverty,
or homophobia is something that's happening against you,
or racism, whatever's going on with you.
But I believe deeply and truly that we are making the change,
because we are all trailblazers.
We, with the broken bits.
So no matter what part of you feels broken,
no matter what part of you feels inferior, or like a freak, or a misfit,
or is struggling,
I ask you in this moment to pause,
and to check in with yourself and decide
which part of yourself you're going to transform from misfit to pioneer status,
knowing that it's we who go forward to incite revolution, to make change.
And so I invite you to join with me and we can blaze our own trails together.
Thank you.
(Applause)