20 of My Favorite Disabled Characters in Scripted Shows

225 words

2 minute read

TW: GIF post

One of the biggest requests I get is for posts on media.  So here are 20 of my favorite disabled characters in scripted shows.

Is your favorite on the list?  Keep reading to find out...

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Alex Standall (13 Reasons Why)

portrayed by Miles Heizer

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April Kepner (Grey's Anatomy)

portrayed by Sarah Drew

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Arizona Robbins (Grey's Anatomy)

portrayed by Jessica Capshaw

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Boo (Underground) 

portrayed by Darielle Dorsey

  
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Callie Torres (Grey's Anatomy)

portrayed by Sara Ramirez

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 Christopher Diaz (9-1-1)

portrayed by Gavin McHugh

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Daniel (Underground) 
portrayed by Bokeem Woodbine

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Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds)
portrayed by Shemar Moore

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Dion Warren (Raising Dion)
portrayed by Ja'Siah Young

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Esperanza (Raising Dion)
portrayed by Sammi Haney

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Evan Hansen (Dear Evan Hansen)

portrayed by Jordan Fisher

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Harriet Tubman (Underground)

portrayed by Aisha Hinds

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Jake Taylor (Work It)

portrayed by Jordan Fisher

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Jessica Davis (13 Reasons Why)

portrayed by Alisha Boe

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Justin Foley (13 Reasons Why)

portrayed by Brandon Flynn

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Rosalee (Underground)

portrayed by Jurnee Smollett Bell

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Sam (Underground)

portrayed by Johnny Ray Gill

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Shelby Merrick (Higher Ground)

portrayed by AJ Cook

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Stephanie Edwards (Grey's Anatomy)

portrayed by Jerrika Hinton

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Tony Padilla (13 Reasons Why)

portrayed by: Christian Navarro

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Inauguration Day 2021

404 words

3 minute read

This day started the way mine usually do:  I wrote (for my sister, and for myself).  It was a few hours (since we no longer have cable) that I realized today was inauguration day.  (I've had it in my head that it would be tomorrow.)

I just watched Vice President Harris being sworn in, as well as inaugural poet, Amanda Gorman recite her incredible poem - and I have to say - I have been counting down to this day since a week into the last presidency.  When it was a dot in the distance, nearly four years away.

[Image: Vice President Harris]

And we're here.  We made it.

We made it, but so many didn't.  So many have died senselessly, due to police violence, due to choices made not to react in ways that kept us safe when a pandemic was on the horizon.

There's a reason many of us seriously grieved four years ago.  And yet, I couldn't quite fathom just how bad it got.

I was afraid this day wouldn't come - after the events of January 6th, I honestly did not know what to expect.  Would the White House be vacated for President Biden and Vice President Harris?  What if he just...refuses to leave?

But, he has, and I am breathing a sigh of relief right now.

Apologies.  I know this post is a bit of a hodgepodge, but I really just want to document my thoughts and feelings today.

Four years ago, I wrote in my private journal:

It's a new day, and it's a dark one...I am scared.  But if we cannot trust a president to keep us safe, I want us to be able to trust each other.  I will be a safe harbor for friends.  For family.  We must protect each other.  We must be everything that he is not, so those qualities still exist in the country.

So, thank you.  Thank you to all of those who have kept each other safe these past four years.  Thank you disabled friends, thank you, everyone, who kept us fed in the early days of quarantining, thank you essential workers, thank you Amazon drivers and Fed Ex drivers and mail carriers.  Thank you to everyone who wears a mask when you go out.

Thank you for protecting us.

Thank you for having our backs.

Now, let's take a deep breath.

***

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What I Remember About My Childhood Bedroom

1,057 words

8 minute read

I've been loving Chanel and Tiffany Miller's podcast, Childhood with Chanel and Tiffany, since its premiere last fall.  One of the things I love most about it are the questions asked, meant to get listeners thinking about moments in their own childhoods.  One of their earliest questions was: "What do you remember about your childhood bedroom?"

As a trauma survivor, many of my memories of childhood are negative, but this question created space for me to begin to remember glimmers of safety.  In the coming weeks, I'll answer other questions prompted by this podcast, but I wanted to begin with his one.

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I'm one of those people who is in awe when I see your childhood bedroom, kept exactly the same, like a little time capsule.  Someplace you can return to when you need safety or solace.  Your collection of stuffed animals from babyhood at the ready.

My childhood bedroom (singular) did not exist.  Because I had bedroom(s).  Approximately ten different ones.  This is because I moved eleven times and attended seven different schools by the time I was 10 years old.  (Changed schools again for middle and high school.)

Keeping the same bedroom all four years of high school was a revelation, because it was - to date - the longest we'd been able to keep the same space for ourselves.  

But that's not the childhood bedroom I'm going to share about today.  The one I'm going to share about was one we had for maybe the shortest period of time ever.

It also felt the safest.

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[Tara, left, and Tonia, right.  In "our room" at our great grandparents house.]

It was a guest room, really.

But when Tara and I were six years old, it was ours.

We lived there for four months.  (Not just in the room, but in the house.)  And the safety and love we felt and found there was unparalleled.

It had a sliding wooden door, which I loved.  A four-poster bed.  Wood paneling on all the walls.  Sliding closet doors that kept coloring books, bristle blocks, Skip-Bo cards and the card shuffler, and Barbie dolls from the 1960's in one half.  In the other half, there were winter jackets.  There was Grandpa's violin.  (His accordion was kept somewhere, too.  It was a special night when he got it out and played it for us.)

All along a high shelf were dated boxes that held Grandpa's filmstrips that he'd taken through the years.  In one corner of the room there hung a small sign that read: Grandfathers are made for loving and for fixing things!  On another section of wall were some inordinately giant wooden scissors.

The main draw in the room (aside from the toys, and the space to play) was the organ, which had numbered keys, and where I taught myself to play one of the songs from our Wee Sing Bible Songs cassette tape with one finger.  Tara was more adept, and learned to play songs like Beautiful Dreamer, by reading the song books.  (Sometimes, our day was equally made, if Grandma came in and decided to play us a song or two, while she sang:

Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do.

I'm half cr*zy all for the love of you.

It won't be a stylish marriage,

I can't afford a carriage.

But you'll look sweet,

Upon the seat,

Of a bicycle built for two.

The carpet was a combination of red, orange and brown, kind of shaggy.  The bed had some kind of heavy blanket.  The sheets (often white and pastel striped) smelled like Downy detergent.  The bed was undeniably cozy and there was a night light mounted on the wall by our heads.

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Each night, after a few rounds of Skip-Bo (always, Tara and I against Grandma and Grandpa) and a snack (a slice of turkey salami from the local meat market and a glass of milk was a favorite of mine...) we'd head to bed.

We loved it when Grandpa would toss us into bed, swinging us back and forth slightly a few times before he would gently place us into bed.  We'd crawl down under the covers.  Grandma would be there to talk to us each night.  Sometimes answering our questions about where the bump on her forehead came from (a car accident when she was five.)  Sometimes, the fielded more futuristic concerns: "Do people have to go to college?"

Always, she finished by saying The Lord's Prayer with us.

She gave us hugs and kisses.

And she always said, "I love you, my little poopsies," which always made us laugh - for obvious reasons.  I've only just found out in writing this post that poopsie is a small child and/or a sweetheart.  It's a term of affection or endearment used in the 1930's.

Grandpa would come and check on us, using his flashlight to come all the way across the house.  We could go to their bed if we were sick.  Tara did, in fact.

I woke up later, terrified that she had vanished, sobbing, "My sissy's gone!"

I felt more devastated than I ever had.  We had gone to sleep together in the same bed.  And just like that, the bed was empty, the sheets cold.  It was dark in the house.  The chairs used as a railing blocked me safely into bed, but my walker was on the other side of the chairs.

I couldn't get to it.

I was trapped, and I was alone.

But Grandpa heard me crying.

He came and got me.

He carried me all the way to his and Grandma's room, telling me softly, "Your sissy's right here.  See?"

Our great grandparents were in their 70's. They had raised their own kids.  And then their kids had kids.  And their kids had kids.

But they still raised us and loved us as their own.  I never once got the feeling that they were stuck with us, or burdened by us.  They wanted us.  And we wanted them.

We were fond of each other.

"You're called great grandparents because you're great, right?" I'd ask in the morning at breakfast - often a poached "eggy" and mint tea with sugar.

And they would laugh and laugh.

It's that sound - and that bedroom - that epitomized safety to me.

***

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Disabled Friends, We Are Not the 'For Worse' in Our Parents' Marriage Vows

609 words

5 minute read

I'm going to get really real here and say that our birth (if you're just tuning in, I have the best twin.  I'm sorry, the votes are in, and I do) was not talked about.  Especially not by our parents.

So when I see nondisabled parents blogging about their kids, and there is that marked difference between how they see their nondisabled child and how they see their disabled ones?  I hurt.

I hurt, first and foremost, for their children.  

But I also hurt for myself and my community at large.  For the huge number of us who must live with, not just being 'welcome but unplanned' but 'unthinkable', 'for worse,' the most awful thing parents can think of.  (For me, being disabled from birth, comments like those make me feel like I am the worst thing that could possibly happen to a nondisabled parent.)

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But hold on.

Remember how I said I have the best twin?

[Image: Tonia, left, and Tara, right on a bench outside our apartment, age 3]

She does these unbelievably thoughtful as hell things when I don't even know she's doing them.

On Christmas Eve, she ventured, seeming nervous.  "Say that I wrote something for you...but it's not exactly a Christmas present?  When would you want to read that?"

I picked a day and she sent me a Google Doc - to something she'd been working on for over a year, even as her customer service job "sucked her soul out," pre-pandemic.

What she gave me is personal, and I'm not going to share all the details of it here, because it's something that's just for us.  But the first thing she gave me was this letter to my newborn self.  She welcomed me, affirmed me, and made sure I knew that I was wanted.  

She was explicit about this in ways I have never heard said about me.  And so, (with Tara's consent) I want to share this welcome letter with you, disabled friends.  So that if your birth was traumatic like ours, you can know that your community loves you, embraces you.

You can know, like I know now, that we are not "for worse" - we are welcome here.  We are loved.  And we are wanted, by at least one person.

***

October 8, 2019 - To Baby Tonia:

Hi sweetheart! What the hell, right? I know you're here way earlier than you expected. But don't worry, love. I'm here too. ❤

This is a place where a lot of scary and ouchy things will happen to you. I'm so, so sorry for that, babe. You did not do anything wrong to deserve the pain. Even while we will not see our biological family very much, we are in the same place together - for awhile, at least. And I'm so glad I can exist around you, and be family for you when no one else could or would. 

While a lot of scary and bad things happen here, there are also people here who love and care for you a lot. Their faces light up when they see you. They wonder at your daily smiles, worry about your struggles and love to play with you!

Having to go through this crucial part of your life largely alone was in no way okay. You did not deserve this. I have to believe that even while we were apart, though, that my heart stayed with you. The whole time. That in some small way, we stayed together. 💛💜

I love you. So, so much. Hold on, okay? Sister Day is coming. 👭

❤,

Me

***

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When I Met Danny Tidwell

1,117 words

9 minute read

When the incomparable Debbie Allen tweeted this one morning in March of 2020, I wasn't ready.

Indeed none of us, whether we were fans of Danny Tidwell - and especially not those who knew and loved him personally - were ready to hear that he was gone.

As a fan, It's been weird.  And difficult.  Having not experienced death much firsthand.

My first experience came at seventeen years old and I was urged not to cry.  To be strong.  And also being a trauma survivor (which, for me, means whatever symptom is at the forefront - dissociation or freeze / fawn - becomes magnified.

I've hesitated to blog about this because I do not want to make his death about me.  I didn't know him personally.

We met, briefly, once.

Thankfully, I don't mind sharing that story.

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I still remember coming back from working at Still Waters Bible Camp and hearing Tara tell me, "You have to see So You Think You Can Dance."  She'd been writing to me about it ever since the previous summer.  But this time, she found a contestant she really admired:  Travis Wall.  I found my own contestant to cheer for, and we watched together as Travis advanced week after week, finishing in second place.

A year later, it was time for So You Think You Can Dance to start airing again and, for the first time, I wasn't spending the summer as a camp counselor.  Tara and I and a friend got together most weeks and watched.

And we noticed Danny almost immediately, because he was Travis's brother.  (The winner of season 2's sister was also competing in Season 3, so we jokingly called it "the season of the siblings.")

I unfortunately bought into the edit the show gave Danny, painting him as an arrogant dancer.  I bought tickets for the tour on a whim, about a week before the finale aired, firmly excited about meeting other dancers.  Danny was not really on my radar.

Then he was interviewed by host Cat Deeley on the show's finale and I realized, "Oh, my God.  He's so insecure and shy."

I'd had no idea.

I'd been convinced by the show's narrative.

But that was the thing.

Danny was both a very shy person and a confident dancer.  And reality shows don't often want to depict the nuances of human personality.  They want you pigeon-holed.

Like Travis before him, Danny went on to finish second.

I was disappointed - I'd been rooting for him - but still had the tour to look forward to.

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Two months later, Tara and I were giddy, anticipating the chance to see our favorite dancers live, and on stage.  We are not concert-goers - never have been.  But this was our equivalent of seeing a really great concert.  One we never thought we'd get to see.

To us, these dancers were basically rockstars.

The logistics of this were not as simple as I am making it sound.  As anyone with a disability can attest to, we must plan for everything.  And not being able to drive ourselves meant that we had to coordinate transportation.

When I bought tickets for that night?  I automatically bought three.  One of Tara, and one for me. The third, I hoped, would be for our friend, who watched religiously with us each week.

When I spoke to her, and asked if she wanted to go to the show with us, I said, "We have a third ticket.  You wouldn't have to pay, but can you please drive?"

Looking back now, it was nowhere near a fair exchange, but at the time it felt more than reasonable.  This was something we really wanted.  Our friend had the transportation, not the financial means.  We - for once - had the financial means but no transportation.  It made sense to pool our resources.  But I'd be lying if I didn't admit to trying way too hard to not come across as a burden...which is how I often thought of myself then.

She agreed, and we braved downtown together, stopping for a bite to eat beforehand.

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The show itself was loud.  The crowd was huge and overwhelming.  Accessible seating meant we sat high and to one side, relying on screens around the arena and our digital camera's zoom lens to capture the moments we most wanted to savor.

Seeing Danny dance live was a revelation.  At the time, I wrote:

Danny is... There are no words for what Danny is. They seem too small to give the way he moves any justice at all. Just incredible in absolutely everything.

Afterward, we knew we wanted to try and meet some of the dancers.  I even had gifts for a couple of them.  So, we agreed that before everyone took their final bows, we would leave and get out ahead of the crowd.

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Like very few things in my life, this plan worked.

We ended up at the little barrier, and I pulled my wheelchair up as close as I could.  I stood (not that it helped much) to see if I could see any dancers.

And soon enough, they came.

I was excited to meet two other dancers.  Hopeful that my favorite (who was out with an injury) would be available to come and say hi.

But Danny came by first.

In my journal, I wrote:

[Danny] was in such a fun mood last night. (Which was surprising and so nice considering we heard he seemed to be uneasy around the big crowds of people.)

Prior to taking a picture with me, he was standing directly in front of me, but looking well over my head to sign autographs. His reaction when he did notice me?

"Hi!" he said, with a huge grin.  "How are you?!"

I don't remember what I said back.  I hope I told him I was great, and how much I loved seeing him perform.

I know I did ask if I could take a picture with him.

He said, "Yeah, of course!"

[Tonia, left, and Danny Tidwell, right.  October 28, 2007]

***

Seven words.

That's all he said to me.

So I have no illusions that we knew each other on some deep level.  

But even in this - the briefest interaction - I came away feeling like I mattered.  Danny noticed me.  Though I stood a foot shorter than him, he thought to glance down.  And he seemed genuinely happy to see me, which, at that point in my life, was a rare experience.

My personal journal ends with this line:

It made my night to see him happy.

It did.  

And all these years later, it still does.

***

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Bridgerton's Rape Scene and How It Connects to Disability

1,216 words

9 minute read

TW: GIF warning / discussion of sex and  of sexual assault / spoilers for Bridgerton

I'm five episodes into Bridgerton and was warned today about the sixth.  

I'm so massively disappointed.  In fact, I have zero idea how anyone is expected to continue to root for the "romance" and / or the "love story" between these two characters, given what I now know about what transpires.

Up until now, I've been loving Rege-Jean Page as the Duke of Hastings, all his fancy clothes (seriously check out this jacket) and his perfect style when dismounting his horse.

[Image: GIF of Rege-Jean Page in a glorious wine-colored jacket as the Duke of Hastings in Bridgerton]

Tara and I are huge fans of Rege-Jean Page.  We've watched him in 2016's ROOTS and then the short-lived series For the People.  He's dazzled us as The Duke of Hastings and we've so enjoyed his portrayal.

Last night, Tara warned me about an impending sexual assault on Bridgerton in the next episode.  Today, after seeing a comment I made on Twitter, where I enthused about the show, Tara had to tell me what happened when she pre-watched episode six.

I was in no way expecting it when Tara said:

"Daphne raped Simon."

***

Simon Bassett, born to an abusive father, who disowned him for a severe stutter as a child, has promised his father on his deathbed that he would never have children.  He has informed Daphne of this, saying, "I cannot give you children," and was even preparing to die in a duel rather than marry Daphne, knowing children would not be in their future.

Daphne chooses to marry him anyway.

In episode six, Simon and Daphne are consummating their union in every room of their mansion.  In the midst of this episode, Daphne notices Simon's habit of pulling out early during sex and asks her maid about it.  She realizes (after the maid presumably informs her) that this is Simon's way of preventing conception.

So, in the last ten minutes of the episode, they are, again consummating their marriage.  Daphne's had time to mull this over.  And they begin, with Simon on top, until Daphne very intentionally flips them.  

She is now on top, astride Simon, and he can't pull out.  She has a hand on his chest and a cold look on her face even as he says: "Wait.  Wait."  Under such stress, his ability to communicate is affected.

Daphne does not wait.  

She keeps him there until she is finished and only then does she allow him to move, getting up and walking away.

***

Afterward, Simon's stutter is noticeably present as he asks: "Daphne.  What did you do?"

She says: "You lied to me.  You seized an opportunity and so I did the very same!"

Simon tells her, "I told you I cannot give you children."

Still, Daphne persists in telling Simon, "You lied to me. ...Do you know I even felt pity for you?"

Simon pushes back: "I never asked for your pity."

And Daphne insists, "And I never asked for your betrayal!  You do not lie to the one you love!  You do not trick the one you love!  You do not humiliate the one you love!"

***

Needless to say, if anybody's thinking about watching the series, take care, especially with regard to this episode.

While representation like this may be historically (and otherwise) accurate?  Hearing that it's brushed past on the series is really damaging, and hearing a character's abusive act justified as "character development" by a male showrunner is just plain irresponsible.

Yes, abusers do capitalize on disabled folx's disabilities.  When they victimize us, they also capitalize on our various disabilities and how those might impact our ability to get help.

Related: Parenting Kids with Disabilities: Autonomy and Consent

We are more abused (by far) and less believed, because we are disabled.

But it does not help survivors of abuse (disabled or not) to have the notion that we are somehow responsible for the way abusers treat us.

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There are a lot of things represented here: spousal / marital rape.  Female abusers.  Male victims.  This is also a crime perpetrated by a white woman against her Black husband.  

No matter what Simon's reasons are for not wanting children - for not feeling that he can have children emotionally?  That does not justify Daphne's actions.

And honestly, Daphne's justifying what she's just done?  Her claiming victimhood as her own because Simon didn't disclose his own (very personal) reasons for not being emotionally ready to parent?  That just hits super close to home as a disabled person who has been abused.  Who has been sexually abused.  And who has been habitually gaslit about that abuse.

I am all for accurate representation, but accurate representation that consists of spinning a narrative where the victim is blamed for what happens to him?

That is not something I'm here for.

This is a show, yes.  

And media is the way the majority of the population learns to treat and how to feel about people in marginalized groups.  If a rape goes unacknowledged, unseen, and somehow justified against a multiply marginalized person?  This type of representation only helps crimes against so many marginalized people happen again.  Because the harm done remains at once invisible and is reinforced as 'reasonable.'

It gives the message: "If I, the person in power, feel slighted, I can overpower."

When the message being given should be, in no uncertain terms: 

"No one deserves to be raped.  No matter the circumstances.  Ever."

***

People have urged me over the last week or so to reserve judgement on the show until I have seen the whole thing.  

Well, now it's been a week, and I have.

And what I have to say is this:

The end does not justify rape.  Nothing justifies rape.  

It's no surprise to me that the Duke of Hastings was reluctant to share the details of his vow to his father with Daphne.  Her realizing (courtesy of Marina) that Simon might just have a perfectly reasonable explanation for not wanting children could have been a realization she came to without violating her husband.  Daphne persisting to meddle in Simon's private business - reading his childhood letters to his father? - is yet another example of how little respect she has for his boundaries.

Daphne's mom speaks to her about how love is a choice...and yes...it is.  

It's also a choice to protect oneself.  To choose safety.  Sometimes that means putting distance between someone who claims to love you, all while they are actively harming you.

And Daphne's speech to Simon about how he's been raised to believe he has to be perfect to be loved, but it's not true?

This would have made for a satisfying resolution had Daphne not already irreparably damaged their trust.  

Then, somehow, Simon comes to Daphne and feels like he is somehow in the wrong?

It's gutting.

Because it is so, so familiar.

(Simon apologizes.  He is shown being remorseful.  Daphne never utters the words I'm sorry.)

Simon becoming a father and happily holding his baby?  This does not change the reality that he has endured.

The end does not justify the means here.

Nothing justifies rape.

*** 

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21 Wishes and Goals For 2021

281 words

2 minute read

2020 felt like it lasted forever...while also passing by in a blink.

With the arrival of this new year, here are 21 wishes I have for 2021, in no particular order.  Some are big, some are small.  Some are personal, some are widespread:

[A wooden table with twine, pine needles, acorns, cinnamon sticks an envelope and a package]

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1.  Rebuild public safety division / disband current police forces.

2. Prioritize the safety of high-risk lives during this pandemic.

3.  A new president.

4.  Finish writing book 8 if I haven't yet.

5.  More authentic representation of disabled people in media (especially disabled POC)

6.  Keep making time for and being intentional about having fun.

7. Prioritize rest.

8.  Read more books by disabled people (especially disabled POC)

9.  Be more present.

10.  Sing more songs.

11.  Eat lots of chocolate.

12.  Write more with @TaraJean (if she wants.)

13. When made aware of my own ableism, racism, etc, to take it in, apologize sincerely and promise not to do the thing again.  Then, do not do the thing again.

14. Keep getting better at taking criticism.

15.  Hold firmly to my own opinion.  While I can change my own if it is uninformed, I don't need to forfeit having an opinion for acceptance or love.

16.  Prioritize gentleness and self care.

17.  Check in with others frequently.

18.  Maybe cry?  (A little?)

19.  Take care of my inner children every day.

20.  Safety for all disabled people.

21.  Love and affirm others in the way that they feel most loved and affirmed.  And don't forget to love myself, too.

***

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