Subscribe to continue reading
Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a question that has been on my mind lately: when did we, as a society, give up our conscience for comfort? It’s a question I’m exploring in my latest podcast episode, and it’s a topic that feels more urgent than ever.
I was recently reflecting on the world as it is now and the disturbing events we see on the news. There are tragedies that unfold in front of our eyes, like a person being stabbed to death on a train, and people just stand by and watch. This is something that would have been unthinkable not too long ago. It feels like we’ve become disconnected, isolated in our own worlds, our own bubbles.
I’ve learned a lot about getting out of my comfort zone because of my disability. My life is a constant series of adaptations, and I’ve been forced to grow and learn every single day. I’ve realized that many people who are able to walk and move around freely aren’t really going anywhere. They might be physically moving, but they have no purpose behind their steps. They’re stuck in a place of apathy and indifference.
This episode is my direct call to action to all of us. We’ve forgotten how to compromise and grow. It’s so easy to sit on the sidelines and cheer when something bad happens to a person we disagree with. But that’s not what we’re called to do. We should be praying for their families and remembering that we’re all a part of this together.
It’s time for us to pop our bubbles, America. We need to remember that our conscience is more important than our comfort. We need to be a part of the solution, not a part of the problem.
This is a powerful episode that will challenge you. Are you ready to hear what’s on my heart?

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly
Laughter is powerful. It can disarm uncomfortable situations and help us connect with one another on a deeper, more human level. In this episode of The Advocacy Life, I explore how embracing humor, even in the most embarrassing moments, can be an incredible tool for living with a disability.
I share three personal stories where laughter became my saving grace. The first involves a spectacular fall at a Boston Market, a moment where my poor depth perception led to an unexpected tumble. My staff and I couldn’t help but laugh, and it became a family joke. The lesson? When you fall—physically, mentally, or spiritually—laugh, learn, and get up.
My second story is more personal, a lesson in unexpected growth during an intimate moment with a new caregiver. It was uncomfortable, but by teaching and growing together, we built a lasting friendship.
Finally, I recount a time when I was angry and isolated, purposely hiding from my peers with disabilities. The staff and clients at my day program played a prank on me with a speaker that made fart sounds, and it was that ridiculous, joyous moment that made me feel truly welcome. It taught me that kindness and acceptance are key to overcoming ableism, a lesson that everyone, with or without a disability, needs to learn.
This episode is about more than just a few laughs. It’s a reminder to find the joy in the unexpected, to embrace awkward moments, and to welcome others with open arms.

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly
A sibling is more than just a family member; they are often your first advocate, your best advocate, and in some cases, your only advocate. The bond between a disabled individual and their sibling is a powerful and life-saving one, a truth I know all too well.
I was born a twin. My brother, who is also disabled, is the wisest, most empathetic person I know, and even though he might need the most physical support, he is the one we all go to for advice and guidance. In this episode, I share a perfect memory of us as kids, passing a bottle of soda back and forth in a car on a hot day in Puerto Rico . It was a simple, unspoken moment of, “I got you, you got me”.
But this episode is not just about him. It is also a love letter to my other sibling, my sister, who I was not blood-related to but who was “literally the best sister in the world”. She and my brother both held up my own light for me to see it and showed me that I was not weak or helpless. They both saved my life.
Our parents will love and protect us, but they will be reminded every day that they have a disabled child. A brother or sister, however, will see you simply as their sibling.
This episode is a tribute to that unbreakable bond, a raw and emotional look at the power of siblings.

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly
There’s no definition of “disability hierarchy,” and I think that’s on purpose. It is a construct, a trick to keep people with disabilities fighting endlessly over the same limited resources. It makes one disabled person seem “better” or “worse” than another. This artificial division only hurts us all, preventing us from focusing on the genuine problems we face.
Everyone has things they’re good at and things they’re not so good at. That’s just how people are. When someone has a disability, these strengths and weaknesses often just show up more clearly. My life is a perfect example. I need a lot of help with physical activities every day–like bathing and getting dressed. Many people might see this as a big weakness, a sign that I can’t do things on my own. I was once told that,
“Your life is simple because people do everything for you.”
My experiences have taught me something important. What seems like a weakness can hide enormous strength. At habitation programs I’ve been to, I’ve met many people who could move around much better than I. They can go to the bathroom by themselves and perform many daily tasks that I can’t. But many of these same people looked to me to speak for them. They couldn’t talk to explain what they needed or wanted. In those moments, my “weakness” became their strength. My ability to speak up, to ask for respect, and to fight for what’s right became an important asset for them.
Isaiah 45:9 NIV “Woe to those who quarrel with their Maker, those who are nothing but potsherds among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you making?’ Does your work say, ‘The potter has no hands’?
This shows why the idea of a disability hierarchy is harmful. It makes us look at easy-to-see differences and judge who is “more disabled” or “less able.” But being able to do things isn’t just one simple thing. It’s a mix of physical skills, thinking skills, feelings, and how we talk to each other. Someone who needs a lot of physical help might be incredibly smart or have a spirit that inspires everyone. Someone who can’t speak might show so much through their eyes or actions.
My journey, from needing total physical care to becoming a forceful advocate who speaks at big events and has a popular podcast, shows how strengths and weaknesses work together. My physical “weakness” has actually made my mind sharper and made me want to fight even harder for others. It has given me a way to understand and speak up for those who might not be heard.
To move forward, we need to get rid of this harmful idea of a hierarchy. Instead of comparing needs or ranking disabilities, we must see the true worth and special talents of every person in the disability community. We need to understand that real strength comes from working together, from making each other’s voices louder, and from supporting all the different ways we give and get help. Only then can we truly unite to demand the resources and respect we all deserve. We won’t be broken groups fighting over scraps, but a strong, united force for change. This September, let’s promise to see all the different strengths in our community and say no to anything that tries to divide us.

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly
Greetings, my friends, and welcome. In this world, it’s not always easy to understand the path you’re meant to follow. For a long time, I was lost. When I was 18, I was very disappointed in myself and in the world because I could not go to college. At that time, it was not in the cards, and I was very angry. I had basically given up and accepted the fact that I was worthless and I couldn’t do anything.
That all changed because one person didn’t give up on me. My school had a transition coordinator who always had my best interest at heart, even though I was, without a doubt, the most difficult client she ever had. She gave me this application for a course called
Partners in Policymaking, which she described as a disability learning think tank. I filled it out very, very, very basically—I wrote a bunch of crap because I didn’t believe in myself. But she saw my potential. She made me do better, telling me I could do a better job and made me write an essay on top of it.
Months later, I got a call from the program director, who said she was very impressed with my words. I had no idea what I had said, even to this day. When I finally went to the first session, I purposely sat in the back because I didn’t feel like I belonged. Where I grew up, I was one of the only kids with a physical disability, and I had no concept of the disability community, or of inclusion.
But as I listened to the stories of the other families and people in that room, I realized something. I’m not alone. There’s a whole community out there for you. I learned more from listening to their stories and successes than I did from the actual course. It was the first time as an adult I had ever been left alone as a person. I had never even slept in a room by myself before. That experience taught me that I wasn’t helpless, that I had resources, and that I could manage a situation on my own.
One course, one day, one person changed my life. What was that one course, that one day, or that one person for you? Let me know in the comments below! Full podcast episode is below as well.
episode transcript

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly
Subscribe to get access to the rest of this post and other subscriber-only content.