I'm going down an aisle in Target, minding my own business, when I see a little three year old girl point at me, and say to her mom, "Mommy, what's wrong with that girl?" I immediately feel my face turn a shade of red deeper than my hair, and my stomach churns uncomfortably. I don't know whether I want to cry, scream, or a combination of the two. I know she's only a child, and that she didn't mean to be rude, but all the same I feel like retorting, what's wrong with your face? (I know, not the best comeback, but it's hard to be witty when you're pissed). All I can think about is how badly I want to hurt her the same way she's just unknowingly hurt me. Her mother, instead of admonishing her and saying something like, "Honey, we don't point at people, and we don't say things like that. It's not nice," just gives me a small, guilty smile, and drags her daughter away as quickly as possible. My anger then switches targets. It's no wonder the kid is so poorly behaved; she doesn't exactly have the world's best mother.

I know how I should have handled the situation. I could have just gone up to the girl and calmly explained my situation. I could have told her that I was born with cerebral palsy, and that while I can think and talk just fine, I can't walk. That's what my wheelchair is for. She would have smiled and said she understood, and then we would have gone our separate ways. But I didn't. All I did was get out of there as fast as possible. Why? Because, first of all, I'm not in the habit of being nice to people who insult me, intentionally or not. And secondly, she isn't my child, so it's not my job to educate her. That's what her parents are for.

Anyone with a sexuality, gender identity, (in)visible disability, or debilitating illness that makes them "abnormal," could tell you that they spend a lot of time educating others about what that means. And, most of the time, the people we're educating are adults, not children. At least children have lack of wisdom and experience as an excuse for their ignorance. What excuse do adults have? None. Speaking for myself, constantly having to disprove people's preconceived notions wrong is exhausting.

Whenever a stranger meets me for the first time, their reactions are usually the same. First, they talk to me in a tone typically reserved for young children, baby animals, and the elderly. Apparently, if you're in a wheelchair, you automatically can't think or speak. Or worse, they don't talk to me at all; they talk about me to someone nearby -- "she's beautiful; how old is she?" After I eradicate their first assumption by explaining how old I am, and that I go to college, the condescension continues. "That must be very difficult. You're so brave." Er, no. Someone fighting cancer is brave; someone fighting for our country in the Middle East is brave; there are many different forms of bravery, but living on a college campus and attending classes isn't one of them. But, by far, the hardest question to answer is, "How do you do it every day?"

I never knew how to explain this to another person. I don't know how I do what I do; I just do. It's true that it takes me longer to do every activity, that even the simplest tasks can be very physically taxing. There are ways to work around that. My latest class ends at 4:15 p.m., and I only take 12 to 13 credits. I go to bed at 10 p.m. and get up at 7 a.m. to do homework, a schedule abhorred by most college students. Every Wednesday, I have to go to physical therapy, where simple sit-to-stands and walking is as exhausting as a normal gym workout. I don't have as much energy as "normal" people do, so I have to make sure the time I'm up and alert is productive. Yes, sometimes I miss out on activities I'd like to do and classes I'd like to take, because they happen too late at night. But that's just how it is. I listen to what my body needs, and everything I need to do gets done. (For an excellent illustration of this, read "The Spoon Theory").

Don't get me wrong: if you have a question about what I have, you're welcome to ask in a polite way. It's always better to ask than make an erroneous assumption. But I'm not an inspiration or a hero. I'm just a normal person doing my best to get by. Yes, my life is hard, but I don't know whose is easy. Not many people could stand being stuck in a wheelchair, but I do because it's all I've ever known. Personally, I'd think doing physics for the rest of my life would be worse than this, but I'm sure some science majors would disagree. Everything is relative.