As the new school year begins, I find myself reflecting on my own experiences navigating life as a person with a disability. Individualized Education Plans (IEPs) were my very first introduction to contracts. For many years, I sat in these meetings, barely understanding what was going on. Yes, I accepted the support provided, but it wasn’t until much later that I truly understood the importance of these plans. Those plans became the foundation of how I would navigate life and understand the role of self-advocacy in who I am and who I am continually growing to be.
Having an IEP in school was meant to ensure that I received the support I needed to succeed. Looking back now, it horrifies me because I was involved in the meetings and decisions, yet there were so many things I didn’t fully grasp. I wish I had known how those meetings set the tone for my life. I wish I had known and believed that my voice mattered. At the time, I didn’t see the IEP as a tool for empowerment—just a mandatory meeting most teachers seemed to enjoy attending, or so I was told.
My perspective began to shift during high school. I had always had an aide with me, and while their help was necessary in some personal care circumstances, there came a point where I felt smothered. It’s a feeling many in the disability community share—being over-assisted can sometimes feel just as limiting as not being assisted at all. I remember the day I went to a teacher and shared my desire to be more independent. It led to them working with the principal to find a compromise with me, but it was also the first time I got called to the principal’s office, and the nerves in my stomach were doing donuts. That conversation was a turning point; it was the first time I actively advocated for a change that I knew would benefit me, even if it meant stepping out of my comfort zone.
A similar moment occurred during my undergraduate years. I found that talking directly to my professors about my needs was more effective than going through the department. Professors were often more understanding and willing to help me, even if it meant doing things differently.
These experiences taught me the power of self-advocacy. I learned that advocating for myself wasn’t just about getting what I needed—it was about taking control of my own story, defining my own success. Although it wasn’t easy, each time I spoke up for myself, I grew stronger, more confident, and more aware of my own needs.
Self-advocacy is about more than just asking for help. It’s about understanding your rights, knowing your worth, and being unafraid to challenge the status quo. It’s about saying, “This is who I am, and this is what I need to succeed,” and believing that you deserve to be heard.
To anyone reading this who is navigating life with a disability or any other challenge: know that your voice matters. Take the time to understand what you need to thrive, and don’t be afraid to ask for it. Start small if you need to—maybe it’s a conversation with someone who can support you, a request for adjustments in your environment, or even just speaking up in a situation where you feel overlooked. Every step you take in advocating for yourself is a step toward a more empowered you.
Remember, self-advocacy is a skill that will serve you for the rest of your life. The earlier you start, the more confident you’ll become in standing up for your rights and needs in any situation.
As we move forward, I encourage you to think about how you can advocate for yourself, whether it’s in personal relationships, work settings, or in everyday interactions. Your life is yours, and you have the right to shape it in a way that supports your growth and success. Self-advocacy isn’t just about asking for what you need—it’s about realizing that you are worthy of it.
I’d love to hear your stories. Have you had a moment where self-advocacy made a difference in your life? Share your experiences in the comments below.
I remember a similar feeling of being smothered. In hindsight, I have realized that as a hyperlexic person, I really didn’t need to spend 7 hours a week reviewing vocabulary. Especially toward middle school and high school years, I was consistently getting 100% recall without breaking any sweat. Alternatively, I wasn’t being heard about needing ASL in my life.
I ultimately, insisted on kicking them off my school schedule completely, all to make room for challenging medical classes being offered from a local University. (I aced the material, using my hyperlexia to sponge up medical terminology sufficient to take 1st place in high school category of State HOSA event).
Because I finally stood up for myself, I thrived in true challenges to learn more than what I already knew.