STELLA YOUNG

People with disabilities are simply part of diverse communities in the U.S.

When I was seven and watched an episode of 'Beyond 2000' that featured a floating armchair, I thought we'd definitely have one of those by 15, at the latest.

I do not identify as a person with a disability. I'm a disabled person. And I'll be a monkey's disabled uncle if I'm going to apologise for that.

By far, the most disabling thing in my life is the physical environment. It dictates what I can and can't do every day.

The battle to find a workplace that's wheelchair accessible is a feat in itself, let alone an employer who's going to be cool about employing someone with a disability in a job you actually want to do.

I don't generally talk about medical terms when I discuss my position as a disabled person. I take a social rather than medical approach to disability, and so long Latin names for congenital conditions are not relevant.

The purpose of our justice system is to reflect the values of our society and to punish those who violate our standards.

Doctors are not fortune tellers, and neither am I. Having lived with disability since birth does not afford me immunity from illness.

I have a condition called Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI), which has affected my growth and bone strength. In short, people with the kind of OI I have generally experience hundreds of fractures in their lifetime and use wheelchairs for mobility.

There are real-world, devastating consequences for disabled women marginalised by the kinds of attitudes that deny them full agency over what happens to their bodies.

From time to time, people pat me on the head. It happens on public transport, in the supermarket, in bars. It's a common enough occurrence that it very rarely takes me completely by surprise.

From pink water bottles for breast cancer to dumping a bucket of ice water on your head for neuromuscular conditions, it seems we're bombarded by requests to be 'aware' of one thing or another.

Paralympic sport and other disability sport can and should be celebrated in its own right.

I have always felt like a loved, valued and equal member of my family.

I really love filling out forms - quite fortuitous, really, given that as one of Australia's 4 million-ish disabled people, ticking boxes and recording my life for other people is what I've spent a fair chunk of my time doing.

Apologies are great, but they don't really change anything. You know what does? Action.

We think we know what it's all about; we think that disability is a really simple thing, and we don't expect to see disabled people in our daily lives.

For me, in some ways, my whole life is a bit performative and always has been - because I'm stared at and looked at everywhere I go.

The killing of a disabled person is not 'compassionate'. It is not 'euthanasia'. It is murder.

Believe me, people with disabilities are just as concerned about benefit fraud as anyone else. Money spent on those who are not in need is money that isn't being spent on vital services to support us in the community.

When patronised, I'm unfortunately more flight than fight. Perhaps it's because I actually feel quite wounded.

The magnitude of discrimination and stigma faced by people with disability in Australia cannot be underestimated. People do not understand disability, and people fear what they don't understand.

From my first days in Washington D.C., where I rolled a whole four downtown blocks without seeing a single shop, cafe, bar or restaurant I could not access, to the beautifully accessible buses in New York City, I was in heaven.

It's undeniable that what we are taught as a culture to believe about disability is at odds with traditional notions of masculinity.

Yooralla, like most disability service organisations, is full of good people who are passionate about the rights of people with disabilities.