Unpacking "I Can't": An Interview with Kayla

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It's time for yet another installment in the "I Can't" Series! This week, we're hearing from Kayla. I really loved her insights!

Here's what she has to say:

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Were you allowed to say “I can’t” when you were growing up?

KAYLA:  Actually, yes, but my grandma definitely had to tell other adults in my life to respect when I said it. “She knows her limits” is something I remember her having to insist more than once when I was a kid.

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What do you mean as a person with a disability when you say, “I can’t?” (Are there cultural nuances to the phrase that get misunderstood?)

KAYLA: For me, it’s definitely fluid. 

There are some things I objectively can’t do (like running, for example). 

There are other things that I can sometimes do and sometimes can’t. I can get into my sister’s truck, for example, but I can’t get into every single truck, because some of them are way too high off the ground. It’s also dependent on energy levels. If I’ve worn myself out that day, something I could do on a good energy day might become something I can’t do. 

Finally, there are some things that maybe I could do in theory that I will say I can’t do, because I don’t believe the possibility for injury is worth it. I can’t do this safely should be just as valid as something I can’t do at all.

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What risks or vulnerabilities exist in saying “I can’t” as a disabled person?

KAYLA: Not being believed for SURE. 

On numerous occasions as an adult, it has been assumed that I don’t want to try when I say that I can’t, instead of my word being taken at face value. 

People want me to try it their way instead of just trusting that I know my own body, and what I can and can’t do. 

At worst, when it turns out that I’m right and I can’t do a particular physical task that’s been asked of me, it’s assumed that I’m not trying hard enough. 

This is very frustrating and invalidating.

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Do you have any memories of saying or wanting to say, “I can’t?” How was this limit received? 

KAYLA:  Weirdly enough, my limits regarding “I can’t” seem to be received better by people who know me less well. Some people in life that I’m close with have actually told me that they’ll “forget I’m disabled” because there are a lot of tasks that I have managed to figure out creative solutions for. In my experience, friends hold space for the boundary that is “I can’t” in a way that certain family members do not.

[There was a time] when I was pushed too far recovering from surgery. My grandma wasn’t there to advocate for me. I KNEW I was gonna fall but the therapist made me do it anyway even after arguing with her. Sure as sh*t, I fell and she didn’t catch me. 

Adults think they know better than kids when it comes to their OWN LIMITS and that is so freaking awful.

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What message was conveyed to you because of moments like this? 

KAYLA: In a way it’s like another form of infantilization. Like, “Actually, I know your abilities better than you”.

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[Kayla (right) as a young child, posing with her grandma (left).
Kayla is smiling, and she and her grandma are holding a stuffed animal between them.]

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Have your experiences contributed to the way you set or struggle to set boundaries?

KAYLA: For sure. Now that I’m older and have found more people that are also disabled, it is easier to recognize and call out a lack of respect for my boundaries regarding what I can and can’t do as what it is: ableism. 

Ableism looks like a lot of things, and recognizing it has been so helpful for my growth and development as a person. I’m disabled, and I’m allowed to have boundaries without being questioned or disbelieved. If people don’t respect that, they are being ableist. I am not being difficult, not trying, whatever negative nonsense is being suggested about me. Other people’s ableism isn’t my fault.