‘Strangers screamed at the sight of me but I’ve fought for disabled rights’
Iwas born without any limbs as my mum was prescribed the drug thalidomide for sickness during pregnancy. I have two fingers coming from each shoulder and my legs are foreshortened above where the average person’s knees would be, with little feet.
When I was about 13, my mum took me shopping because she’d seen some clothes we could alter to fit me. Inside one shop, the assistant screamed at me to get out because of how I looked in my wheelchair.
I was so upset and angry, I vowed no one would ever speak to me like that again. Ultimately, it made me fight for the rights of disabled people.
When I was a child, you hardly saw disabled people, the world was not designed for wheelchair users.
I was fortunate because my parents were very young and their attitude was, “Well, if we’re going out, you’re coming with us.” But, closing my eyes, I can still picture the stares. People’s jaws hit the ground. Now what I do is I smile back at them, so they either smile back, or are embarrassed.
No one enjoys being on the receiving end of discrimination, and it riles me. Aside from people’s attitudes, there’s also the struggle of access to buildings, as well as services.
Schools in the 60s weren’t built with disabled people in mind. It was 1970 before disabled kids had a right to education.
Things people face as teenagers felt even heavier for me. Going to the local youth club and falling in love with a gorgeous boy, but knowing he only wants to be your friend. You worry, will I ever meet anyone? Will I fall in love, get married and have children? Thankfully I did, and now I’m married to my best friend Steve. I’ve known him since I was three and he is also thalidomideimpaired. After three miscarriages, we were blessed with our son James, now 26.
I couldn’t run around after James as a toddler, but if he was doing something dangerous I’d raise my voice three octaves. He understood. He seemed to know instinctively not to struggle and he clung on to my clothes when I held him.
In 2015, I received an
OBE for services to the equality and rights of disabled people. I campaigned for the creation of the Thalidomide Memorial in Cardiff. I’m also a member of the Mouth and Foot Painting Artists Association.
I believe the cup is half full, not half empty.
‘If people stare, I smile, they either smile back or get embarrassed’
The Mouth and Foot Painting Artists is part of an international self-help association of disabled artists who paint without the use of their hands. To learn more, visit mfpa.uk