Representation can be subtle, but inclusion can make a big difference.

Taking in stories over this Disability Pride Month has left me both humbled and hopeful. A few weeks ago, I started doing some work for a disability advocacy-focused NPO. And though it is exactly where my heart lies, I’m very aware that the cause is never-ending; there will always be societal improvements to be made, but that’s what makes it even more important to celebrate the wins.

I have an incurable lung disease called Pulmonary Hypertension, and though it may have shortened my life in some ways, it has created a path to full, genuine experiences and relationships, that my old life wouldn’t have necessarily given me.

I model, because I want someone else with tubes to see themselves instead of feeling like they need to hide away.

I talk about it, because with awareness, and research, science, there will be a time where someone who’s as sick as me, doesn’t need to live with a life-support machine attached to their body. And they will swim, and travel, and bathe, and breathe, freely.

I’m disabled, but that’s not all of who I am. The disabled community is just that, no matter the difference, the diagnosis, the identity, we find commonality with each other, and that’s exactly how it should be with our able-bodied peers. Without it being about tokenism, we can participate in the conversation, and realize that we’re all closer than we know. 


Contributed by Kaitlyn Salonga, living with PAH, Richmond, BC

Photo credit: @toshalobsingerismyphotographer