Closing speech at the National Girls Initiative, Growing Girls for Greatness Conference
By Kelly Mack
Phoenix, Arizona
January 7, 2005Good morning. Thank you for that warm welcome. It’s an honor to be here and I am thrilled to speak today.
When I thought about what to say today at this Call to Action Breakfast it struck me that you are already working to help girls, to support their well-being and protect their future. By attending this conference, gaining new tools, colleagues, and energy, you are pursuing the dream of equity and opportunity for girls. You are committed to a calling and this morning is a testimonial to the dedication, passion, and purpose you apply to your work.
One of the reasons I love attending conferences like NGI is because the experience helps me renew my energy when I am in a downward spiral of exhaustion and burnout. The action of advocacy and the pursuit of social justice is very hard work. On any given day we feel the exhaustion of toil, that sense of cracking concrete with a spoon instead of a hammer. And it wears on us. We develop a sense of doom, a sense of being infinitely small against a monstrously large problem. How can we make a difference in the lives of girls? How do we help provide the opportunities they deserve? How do we help them navigate the pitfalls of a society seemingly bent on destroying girls? How do we keep going against all odds?
We are an unlikely group of adventurers. Somehow we are here even though it has not been easy and the odds are stacked against us. Every law passed, every social more broken or reformed, every liberty granted to women and girls has been incredibly hard-won, with decades and centuries of struggle and sacrifice. And yet our freedoms remain on the edge, the slightest breeze in the wrong direction could set us back a decade. It takes a great deal of effort to just stand still.
I would say our tenacity is a miracle, but that word suggests something magical and otherworldly, clouding the fact that we work at it every day. Every day is a concerted effort, a straining. And it is not easy.
When I was a girl I had people like you in my life, people that showed me the strength and skills to become the woman that I am today. We understand the tremendous challenges girls encounter, how each girl is unique. In my case, I developed a chronic illness and disability around the age of two years old. My parents were heartbroken when the doctor told them I had rheumatoid arthritis. And we couldn’t have predicted all the adventures my childhood would bring.
People with disabilities are still a marginalized and discriminated group in our society. Many attitudinal barriers thrive—causing people to react in fear, hatred, pity, or repugnance toward people who look different, act different, and live different. And while my disability is physically evident, it is worsened by society’s reaction to it—by discrimination, inaccessibility, ignorance, and resistance to accommodate me. To all the challenges of being a girl (combating sexism, chauvinism, gender stereotypes, and much more) the complications of having a disability ensured I would grow up an activist for change.
My childhood memories include play, friends, sleepovers, swimming, family trips, and learning. But I also have memories of doctor’s visits, blood tests, physical therapy, surgery, hospital stays, chronic pain, and the frustration of dealing with ignorance and discrimination. No child is prepared to manage these struggles but I was lucky to have supportive parents and other adults to guide me. I learned two critical tools for thriving in adversity: advocacy and adaptation. I learned from my parents how to advocate, how to tell others what I needed and to work in adjusting the inaccessible barriers of society to include me with respect and fairness. I also learned adaptation, developing the patience and persistence to apply myself to manage in a crisis or when advocacy was not an option. These experiences helped me to be equipped to grow into an independent woman.
I am constantly at work to create a balance between advocacy and adaptation. If I am always advocating and fighting stubborn institutions then I lose myself in the battle and neglect the joys of living. If I adapt too much, give in to inaccessibility or discrimination, then I lose my dreams and aspirations. Above all, my mentors and supporters have encouraged me to dream and to be tenacious in pursuing those dreams.
In many ways, the daily struggle to get through my day is manifested treacherously. I encounter inaccessibility wherever I go. I cope with chronic pain and physical limitations. I challenge ignorance and discrimination. I fight to stay in the game. And although I do it for myself, I also do it for all those who will follow me—those girls with disabilities just being born, those seniors who fall and are injured, those women and men disabled while serving in the military. We don’t do it just for ourselves, we are serving the best interests of our society, whether they know it or not.
Sometimes I am exhausted and desperate. I think I will never reach the end, that I will wear myself to nothing. Sometimes I worry I have lost the fire in my belly that warms my anger and keeps me motivated, my mind innovating new solutions and strategies. But when I am on top of my game, when I have won an advocacy battle or conquered an accessibility challenge, when I have marched in a protest or published an editorial, I am filled with the juice of winning. I know that day has been worth it, that my world is a better place because I cared. The other days are harder—the days of defeat. And this is when we show our mettle. Are we going to give in or keep on fighting? Our true colors are not revealed in our best, most brilliant moments, but at the times when we are most defeated, most desperate. In my own life I have learned I can go a lot further and for much longer than I could have ever imagine on my healthiest, happiest day. I could not predict that I would still be here to embrace living, after all that I have experienced.
From the time I was a young girl I felt the call to change the world. I didn’t believe girls should settle for a lesser education, job, or life ambitions. I always knew I was just as capable of making my dreams come true and I wanted other girls to believe in their dreams too. So I educated my friends, peers, and adults about empowering girls, about the rights of people with disabilities. I have volunteered my time and skills toward empowering women and girls, from serving on the board of a feminist arts organization to writing for magazines and websites. And although it is hard work, it is more than a job—I was called to action and I find my life’s purpose in this pursuit.
I know you will return home to challenges. You will have moments when you don’t think you are making a difference when your frustration may question your commitment. But you cannot give up on your calling. You cannot give up on the dream. I sometimes think that a failure to collectively imagine a better world is what slows humanity’s evolution. If I hadn’t dreamed, I would not be here today. During my arthritic joint flare-ups I imagined what it would be to live without pain. When I was recovering from joint replacement surgery alone in the hospital at age 16, I imagined what it would feel like to stand and walk again. When I encounter buildings with entrances restricted by stairs, I imagine what ramps and elevators would add to accessibility. When I meet someone who fears or reviles my wheelchair, makes insulting jokes, or doesn’t take me seriously because I am a woman with a disability, I imagine what a life changing revelation it would be for them to experience my life and free their mind from ignorance. Each accomplishment I have achieved was once an idea I dreamed, many of them goals that people thought were impossible to reach.
My dream of attending college motivated my recovering from surgery when I was a teenager. I grit my teeth during years of physical therapy by imagining the experience of learning and growing at college. And my first day at Bryn Mawr College was a momentous and emotional experience for me because I had worked so hard, against impossible odds to make it happen. Of course adjusting to college and planning accessible accommodations was difficult, but I made it even more so when I fell on the second day and broke my leg. It is a good thing I like a challenge because I spent my first semester at college in a hip to ankle cast, unable to bear weight on my leg. But I could not be stopped, because I was living my dream. I stayed in college, enjoying an amazing experience, and graduated proudly.
During my life, I learned to walk three times; I live alone and independently; I travel; I cook; I write; and I live fully with enthusiasm. Being disabled has enabled me to fight for what I believe in, to pursue the joys of life, to contribute in making the world a better place. I owe my successes to many people—people who stood apart because they believed in my abilities but didn’t ignore my disabilities. Above all, it was my capacity to imagine, to dream of the future I wanted and needed. Dreaming made it happen, because when I was deathly ill I had no motivation to get well without my dream. If we have no dreams, we have nothing to live for or work toward.
All girls should have opportunities to pursue their dreams, even if they seem impossible. This is what we are here for, to make it happen to the best of our ability. And when you are on the edge of burnout, remember this dream. Remember that you are pursuing a calling that cannot be quit. We are persistent and tenacious; we are armed with hope and imagination. We are here to make dreams come true.
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