on feeling invisible

It’s easy to feel invisible in a world that doesn’t always celebrate our differences as human beings. A world that wants everyone to fit a mold that we don’t fit. A world that sees our differences as weaknesses, not as our unique individuality. I remember, when I was in high school, wondering if anyone would listen to me and, if anyone listened to me, what would I tell them about me that I would want them to know? I felt unheard and alone and defective. I even felt as if people were looking through me, but I didn’t think that they ever saw me.
Years later, I know that I am different, not defective. I have disabilities that create problems with understanding spoken language and with being in noisy and crowded spaces. And, to some extent, with reading. They cause me some difficulty with focusing, attention and with understanding social cues. These, I now understand, are part of who I am. They are part of me, but they do not make me less than a neurotypical person. I am who I am, and it’s okay.
And I have learned that people who have cast aside by “official society” as being different, defective and having no potential for greatness are none of those things. Today, I read about a woman named Rachel, who is a professional photographer. Last spring, she was the first person with Down Syndrome to earn a master’s degree in fine arts in photography. When I read her artist statement for an exhibit in New York City, I was struck by the comments that she made about people talking about her and asking questions about her. They didn’t ask her the questions; they asked her mother. And she was standing right there. She said, “I felt invisible.” Her art exhibit is about people with Down Syndrome who have graduated from college. She said that, with this small group of people, she has found community. I also read about a woman named Ana Victoria, who lives in Mexico. She has Down Syndrome, and she is a lawyer. She has broken barriers.
All that means that it’s time to reframe, to not call our differences as defects, but as the unique characteristics that make us unique and fully ourselves. And when we succeed in doing that, we will have much more time for laughter and mirth and less time for weeping and lamenting what could have been and never was.
I pray that understanding replaces ignorance and the move towards acceptance gains momentum.