If this is the moment I stand here on my own
If this is my rite of passage that somehow leads me home
I might be afraid
But it’s my turn to be brave…-Brave/Idina Menzel

Bravery, or I should say the perception of bravery, is a vexed subject. I was schooled in my disability studies classes that the concept of bravery as applied to the disability community is something to be advocated against – that the assumption that just living with a disability or medical condition was enough to qualify as brave is not right. But really, who knows? As I think about it more, who am I to say what others feel? There are rhetorics around disability that make me cringe, but who am I to say how other people feel? I guess as I’ve grown up I’m becoming more confident with not being certain of things beyond what I can control within myself.

This all came to the forefront because I’m making a big change in my life, the most drastic change I’ve made as an adult. And bravery and other such rhetoric has been thrown around. Sometimes I feel brave. Sometimes I feel terrified. And that’s how I think it should be.

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