Every gym class started the same way.
"Captains, pick your teams."
If you have a disability, you already know what happened next.
I waited.
One by one, names were called. The fastest runners. The tallest kids. The athletes.
Then came the long pause.
The glance in my direction.
The silent calculation.
"Well... I guess we'll take Marina."
It wasn't because anyone knew what I could do.
It was because they thought they already knew what I couldn't.
Living with Cerebral Palsy meant I ran differently, threw differently, and couldn't always keep my balance. To my classmates, that was enough information to place me in a box.
Slow.
Weak.
Last pick.
The funny thing about boxes is they're usually built by people who never bother to look inside.
What my classmates didn't know was that I loved competition.
I played four years of varsity golf.
I learned to adapt every movement my body struggled to make.
I became an engineer of my own body long before I ever worked for an engineering company.
But none of that mattered the moment gym class started.
Because assumptions are easier than curiosity.
As adults, we like to believe we've outgrown that mentality.
Have we?
How many qualified job candidates are quietly placed in boxes because they walk differently, communicate differently, or have a visible disability?
How many people never get the chance to surprise us because we've already decided what they're capable of?
The box changes, but the assumptions don't.
Today, I advocate because I know what it feels like to have someone mistake difference for inability.
I've spent much of my life climbing out of boxes other people built for me.
Here's what I've learned:
People with disabilities don't need lower expectations. We need the opportunity to exceed them.
So the next time you meet someone who looks, moves, or communicates differently, resist the urge to decide their limits before you've discovered their strengths.
You might be surprised by what's inside the box.
Or better yet...
You might realize there was never a box at all.
