Cover Girl: Why The Fab Over 40 Contest Matters to Me

MY DISABILITY JOURNEY

Here’s the TLDR on my disability story. I was born with cerebral palsy and came to find out my diagnosis at 28 by happenstance. I spent the next decade working through all the feelings that came with that revelation (anger, sadness, and betrayal just to name a few) and the label of being disabled. To be clear, I always knew I was different but I didn’t have a name for my different way of walking and moving through the world, literally.

Disabled is a word I was getting used to in my thirties. I was in the infancy of my disabled identity where speaking it felt as foreign as another language.  I grew up trying my best to ignore what made me different. It was not a topic of conversation and if it came up it was quickly dismissed. If I fell, (which I did a lot and still do), I was always encouraged to “get up” and move on. I spent the majority of my life masking a part of who I am.

Maybe masking isn’t the right word because you can’t mask a visible disability. I spent most of my life trying to pass as able bodied. I realize how unrealistic that sounds as I type it, but it’s the truth. Looking back, I see that so much of my personality was built on a foundation of defense mechanisms. Like a trompe l'oeil I thought If I could enchant people with my personality they would forget to notice my walk. Or if I was smart enough, or successful enough, it would distract people from my scissors gait. Much of my over-achieving and people-pleasing personality was coming from a place of lack. I was constantly trying to be enough at all the things so that people would forget about the one thing I couldn’t control or change. 

I spent the first two thirds of my life in the dark. Once the light was turned on it took me years to adjust my eyes to the difference. So much of my young life was lived in bubbles, or school communities, composed of people who already knew me as Themi, that bright, spunky girl who walks funny.  It wasn’t until my late thirties that I really began my journey of acceptance. A huge step in my journey was going on Remote Year, an actual journey around the world, and my first “lights on” opportunity to start again (see Remote Year section of my blog for so much more).

REMOTE YEAR

At the time I applied, Remote Year was all about the opportunity to live outside my homebase of Chicago and to live my life differently. Instead of focusing on the things I wanted that I didn’t have, like a partner or children, I decided to focus on what I did have, which was the freedom to travel the world for a year with 30 strangers. So I spent the next year working remotely while living in a different international city each month with the same people, who started as strangers and ended as Ohana (which means family). 

Now with the insight only hindsight can provide, I see there was a lot of subconscious identity work playing in the background of my decision. I also see clearly the need for physical space from the safety of my family and my bubbles to discover who I was on my own and assert my independence. Remote Year gave me the space and time to try out my new informed identity: disabled woman. My Ohana gave me the safety to fully express myself. 

I wanted physical distance and it didn’t get much farther from Chicago than Cape Town, South Africa. 8,507 miles from home I found myself starting my lights on life and getting to know my Ohana. Rockow was the first person I wanted to get to know because from the moment I met her in the co-working space, I saw she had qualities I wanted to cultivate, including a magnetic confidence. I asked her to lunch and we met a few days later in the lobby of our building to walk through nearby Green Point Park. 

We talked about meeting up once a month. Breezily she asked if I like to go on walks or if I would prefer something else due to my cerebral palsy - INSERT LONG PAUSE - I was busy processing…this was not a secret I was carrying but something people could spot as easily as my dark brown hair.  The initial surprise gave way to immediate relief. She opened a door for me to talk about my disability freely in a way I never had before. To this day it is one of the many things I cherish about her friendship. 

While my mind was running circles around her casual use of cerebral palsy in conversation, she was feeling sheepish as I learned recently when I asked her what she remembers about that day. She told me she didn’t think about it until I paused because disability is a space she comfortably inhabits in both her personal and professional life. I learned that day about some of her work like when she worked in college as an aide to a woman with muscular dystrophy. We were in the same space but operating from two different levels of experience and comfort. I didn’t realize it at the time but Rockow became more than my friend that day, but an important ally.

KICKING UP DUST

The next month in Marrakech, Morocco her allyship was instrumental as I navigated an uncomfortable moment of confronting my disability. It wasn’t my first moment and it wouldn’t be my last on RY but this one was different because it was the first time I asked for help and didn’t get it. The side trip offered that month was a night of camping in the Sahara desert complete with camel back rides. My mind was a blur with all the incredible imagery, Lawrence of Arabia meets the expansive feeling of a U2 song, feeling smaller than your surroundings amidst the hope of possibility. 

The romantic in me immediately signed up and forked over the cost. As the trip got closer I started thinking practically about whether or not my internally rotated hips could handle riding a camel. I’ve never ridden a horse, let alone a camel, but I questioned if my hips' limited range of motion could handle being externally rotated. I reached out to one of our coordinators and asked some questions, mainly, could alternate transportation be provided if I found riding a camel to be uncomfortable or not possible. 

A few days later the coordinator pulled me aside in the workspace to answer my questions. Sitting on a rooftop she told me that alternate transportation would not be possible and it was my decision whether or not I wanted to go. I started crying and surprised myself by the emotional response. At the time I thought I was crying tears of disappointment at not getting the answer I wanted. Now I see the disappointment was so much bigger than a no, it was a rejection of my needs. I told her I wanted the night to think it over and talk to someone who knew me and my limitations better. 

I called Diana for advice. Diana is not just my loving sister, but a lawyer and a mom,  a killer combo I knew would provide me both the practicality and empathy I was seeking. Diana would never tell me what to do but she encouraged me to consider not going for several reasons. Like any good lawyer she made one argument I couldn’t refute, one I hadn’t even considered. She asked me how long the ride to the desert was. I don’t remember the exact duration, but it was a considerable ride, something like eight hours outside Marrakech. If something were to happen to me in the desert it could take eight hours for someone to get to me or for me to get help. Case closed counsellor. No further questions,  I had my answer. 

I opted out of the trip. I was met with resistance when I asked for my money back  I was shocked. I was no longer going on the trip because they couldn’t accommodate me, so why would they keep my money? I went for a walk with Rockow and discussed all of my mixed emotions about the situation. She gave me the support I needed as I navigated my first time having to go to bat for myself as a disabled woman living internationally out of  a suitcase. 

Facing the reality that not everywhere in the world is accessible is something I did regularly on Remote Year, but the greatest lesson I took away from the desert trip is that it’s not only hard to ask for what you need, but it can be just as hard to get what you need. I didn’t want to kick up dust about this desert debacle. The part of me that didn’t want to be “difficult" early into our journey is the same part of me that had been trained to be palatable, wanted to be invisible, to try and pass. Asking for and getting my money back was my first experience in self advocacy on Remote Year. That year changed my life and gave me many opportunities to both confront and accept my body and its limitations. It was a leap forward in my journey of acceptance and empowerment.  

equitABLE

I changed jobs shortly after I returned home from Remote Year. I left a company I had been with for eight years and never once spoke about my disability. There are many reasons why but the biggest was perception. I didn’t want to be perceived as less able or less capable than anyone else. I did my best to pass, thinking if I didn’t acknowledge it, people couldn't use it against me. As I type that I see just how much of my internal struggle comes from living in an ableist society where disability is seen as less than. It’s a painful but important part to acknowledge that is likely another post.  When I accepted this new job I checked the disability box on my application and started a new chapter as someone who was going to own her disability not just personally but professionally. 

A few years later I took a bigger step by joining equitABLE the company’s BRG for people and caregivers of people with disabilities and chronic illness. Being a part of equitABLE gave me the community I didn’t know I needed. For so long my disability had felt singular and isolating because I didn’t know anyone else dealing with struggles like mine. I can’t properly express what finding this fellowship meant to me. But I can say this. I credit this community with helping me take complete ownership of my professional disabled identity. 

I can’t talk about this community and not mention its co-founder Alia Mohsen. Alia is the first woman who showed me what it looks like to show up as a professional disabled woman. In our first few meetings I remember being unnaturally quiet in her presence because I wanted to drink in everything she had to say. I would be lying if I didn’t also acknowledge my serious case of imposter syndrome. I felt like I wasn’t ready yet to be in her presence because she was so ahead of where I was. She was confident, opinionated, and passionate. I was awestruck!  I had found a role model for how I wanted to show up in the work world. 

I credit equitABLE with so much of the growth in my acceptance of my disability. I requested accommodations for the first time in my career because of them. This community normalized my needs. I went from never discussing my disability at work to asking for what I needed to do my job more comfortably. I acknowledged that my body is different and as such my body needs different things. THIS! Talk about growth. From a lifetime spent trying to pass and not be noticed for my physical difference to acknowledging it and honoring its needs. I am not exaggerating when I say that filing my accommodations was a milestone moment.

DISABLED ENOUGH

For years I waged an internal battle with myself that I wasn’t disabled enough to ask for what I considered at the time as special treatment I didn’t think I deserved. (Trying to unpack a lifetime of ingrained ableism as disabled person is a whole other post). For years I struggled with the feelings of not being disabled enough because I can walk and live independently. Don’t ask me where I got those arbitrary goal posts from, I do not know. But because I could do those two things, in my mind, meant I couldn’t ask for things like a parking placard or extra time to board a plane. 

Decisions, good or bad, can be like a chain reaction, one begets another. Filing accommodations at work made me see I could start applying for disability benefits in my personal life. Another giant step forward for someone who used to believe she wasn’t worthy of asking. Each time I applied for one, it not only got easier to do, but I became more empowered in who I am. And it felt amazing!

 I’ll never forget applying for my disabled ID. I went to the DMV and per usual the line was out the door. As I walked up to the line one of the workers asked what I was there for and I said my disabled ID. He proceeded to shout “disability” to the worker closest to the door. I held my head high and followed his direction while internally celebrating another moment of growth! A younger version of me would have been embarrassed at Mr. DMV shouting it out for everyone to hear. A younger version of me would have bowed my head in shame and tried my best to play invisible. Present day Themi was proud of herself and her disability. She walked ahead knowing disability is not a dirty word, simply a word you can use to describe me. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So to be at a place in my life where I am entering a NATIONAL contest as a proud disabled woman is another milestone moment. The Themi of my thirties could not have entered. She wasn’t there yet. I find it fitting that forties Themi is ready, willing, and excited to enter a contest called Fab Over 40.  

ARE YOU FABULOUS AND OVER 40 THEY ASKED?

Last year I entered the contest for the first time. I started writing this after my run ended in the quarterfinals. Now I am competing for the second time and decided to revisit what I wrote. What I wrote still holds true. I am grateful for the opportunity to expand on what I started and share why this contest matters so much to me. 

Last fall I was scrolling Instagram and got served an ad that asked “Are you fabulous and over 40?” or something similar. My internal monologue immediately responded with an enthusiastic yes and yes! So I read the caption and saw there were multiple prizes including a $40k cash prize. I thought for the chance at $40k, let’s see what this is about!!

I entered with the attitude of nothing to lose and a possible $40k to gain, let’s go! The possibility of winning felt as realistic as winning the lottery, but I was excited by the chance. I called my sister Elena to tell her about my entry. Speaking it out loud made it feel real and made me realize how excited I was. More than anything I wanted that magazine cover. I wanted to be the first disabled woman on the cover of New Beauty magazine. 

A few weeks later the contest started while I was babysitting for the weekend. I ignored the prompts until I got home so I started the contest in 14th place for my group. In a few days I went from 14th to 1st after reaching out to friends and family for votes and support. Getting to first officially stoked my desire to win! 

I don’t spend much time in competitive spaces. I’m not a team sport person. Most of my pursuits are solitary like reading and writing. So imagine my surprise when I maintained first place status for the next two weeks. The further I advanced, the more the possibility of winning came into sight. Maybe I was a latently competitive person and I just didn’t know it? What I did know is this fire wasn’t going out anytime soon. I was stoked and hot to keep advancing. I hadn’t wanted something this bad since I applied for Remote Year in 2017. Last year I had a good run getting to round 7 of 9, but more importantly I had so much fun with the contest that I knew I’d enter again this year with one key difference, intention. Last year I entered on a whim of let’s see what happens and this year I entered to win. 

WHY FAB?

The irony is my 40s have been anything but fab and that’s exactly why I want to win. In spite of the pain of the last several years (see Humble Quest) I persevere and keep my joy for life. Life and my body have tried their damndest to knock me down, most recently trying  to run me over (literally), but you can’t keep me down. I will always get back up. 

I contemplated dropping out a few weeks ago after I got hit by a car while biking. The contest seemed insignificant in comparison to a near death experience, but my family encouraged me to continue because of it and I’m glad I listened! This contest is about more than winning prizes, this contest is a personal victory whether I win or lose. It inspires me to share my story, stand in my truth, and celebrate it.   

This contest is a ray of light during a dark time. More than anything I am feeding off the positive energy I receive from every single person who has supported me along the way! The thing I love most about being in this contest is getting to witness the real time support from people I love, people I know, people I haven’t heard from in awhile, or don’t even know! There is something really special about seeing people show up for you and support you. Your support invigorates me and is uplifting me at a time when it could be really easy to get down and stay there. 

WHAT ABOUT THAT MONEY, HONEY?

I welcome having something positive to put my attention towards and I want nothing more than to win! I want to be the first disabled woman on the cover of New Beauty magazine. They have to start somewhere and why not with me? For those of you asking yourselves, what about that money, honey?  If I win, I will donate a portion to Easterseals because it holds a special place in my heart as a former Easterseals kid myself. It would mean a lot to give back to an organization who gave so much to me as a six year old fresh out of leg casts and learning how to walk again. The remainder of the money will go toward medical bills. I’ve talked before about what I call the disability tax or the cost to keep my body moving, particularly after my accident. The prize money would give me the warmth of being able to give back and the practicality to pay expenses. 

SIBLINGs, SPA-CATION, AND A MAGNIFYING GLASS

Another prize for the winner is a spa-cation for two. You had me with my three favorite letters. The plus one an absolute bonus. I want to win for me and Elena. I have three sisters I love deeply. My goal is to travel with each of them individually.  This is no slight to my brother Alex. Alex has no desire to travel. When I offered to go to DC with him since he’s the biggest American history buff I know his response was no, thanks. Alex is like the Rob of the family. Low key, off camera, and just trying to survive being vastly outnumbered by the women in his family. I heart him so hard. So Elena is the last sibling on my list and this contest offers a possibility to make that dream come true. From the moment I called her last year with my “Guess what I did today?” entry update to each advancement in the competition she has been my number one supporter. 

Elena’s been on board from the moment I mentioned it as an idea that sounded more like a dream. Sometimes you just need someone else to believe in your dream, no matter how far out of the realm of possibility it may seem. Elena would check in several times a week to see how I was doing. The more we kept in contact the more my excitement grew. I had someone who was invested in this with me and wanted me to win as much as I did. When I shared my entry answers with her, she was like you should be sharing this with everyone, I want you to win!  I’ll say it again, sometimes you just need someone else to believe in your dream. It’s powerful like putting something under a magnifying glass, it not only brings things into greater focus, but it can burn things with its intensity. 

So I took Elena’s magnifying glass energy and brought it to the masses via Instagram and weekly voting reminders to my different friend groups asking for their support. I knew my families (blood and Ohana) would support me and they both did in major ways. But  I wanted to give my friends and followers more insight into why I was campaigning so hard. In addition to the cash and spa, there was that final prize I wanted more than any other.

COVER GIRL

I want that magazine cover! It would be a dream come true. Maybe it's because I grew up during the height of magazine culture, starting with Seventeen and maturing into Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, and US (back when it was an actual magazine and not a weekly tabloid), but print still means something to me. More than seeing myself staring back at me in the checkout line, I want to be a proud face representing disability in any space, particularly the beauty space. I want to be the strong, beautiful, confident disabled woman I never saw looking back at me. I want to be the first disabled woman on the cover of New Beauty magazine. 

This win is bigger than me. It would be the physical representation of the long way I have come in my disability journey of acceptance. The younger version of me wouldn’t have had the confidence to enter the contest, let alone enter with a disabled identity. This contest found 44 year old me at a time when I was not only ready to enter, but excited to shine a light on disability representation. And 45 me is ready to win it this time!

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