Happy Disability Pride Month

Every year when July rolls around, I find myself celebrating two things.

The first is obvious—Independence Day. Fireworks, cookouts, family, friends, and celebrating the freedoms we enjoy in this country.

The second is something many people don't even realize exists.

July is Disability Pride Month.

For me, those two celebrations have become deeply connected.

When I was growing up, I had never even heard of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). Why would I? I wasn't disabled. Accessibility wasn't something I noticed because I never had to think about it.

Then, on April 4, 1996, everything changed.

Suddenly, I wasn't just learning how to live in a wheelchair—I was learning how to exist in a world that wasn't built for me.

That's when I learned about the ADA. The law had actually been passed six years earlier, in July of 1990, but it wasn't until I became disabled that I realized just how remarkable it really was.

The ADA gave me something I don't think enough people appreciate: independence.

Because of the ADA, I can expect to find ramps instead of only stairs. I can expect doorways to be wide enough for my wheelchair. I can expect accessible parking spaces. I can expect elevators in many public buildings. I can expect accessible restrooms. I can apply for jobs knowing that employers can't legally discriminate against me simply because I use a wheelchair.

None of those things are conveniences. They're freedoms.

And while they're designed for people like me, they benefit far more people than most realize.

Parents pushing strollers use curb cuts. Delivery drivers use ramps. Travelers rolling suitcases benefit from smooth sidewalks. Older adults appreciate automatic doors and accessible entrances.

Universal design doesn't just help people with disabilities. It makes life easier for everyone.

One of the things that has made me appreciate the ADA even more is traveling.

My husband and I love exploring the world, and every time we leave the United States I'm reminded of how fortunate I am to live here.

Don't get me wrong—I absolutely love visiting other countries. But traveling as a wheelchair user can be incredibly eye-opening.

I've encountered restaurants with steps at the entrance and no ramp. Shops that I simply can't get into. Bathrooms tucked away upstairs or downstairs with no elevator in sight. Historic cities with beautiful architecture but sidewalks and buildings that were never designed with accessibility in mind.

Some of my favorite places in the world are also some of the hardest to navigate.

Then, I come back home, and every single time I land back in the United States, I'm reminded of how much I take for granted.

I can go out to dinner without wondering whether I'll even be able to get through the front door. I can usually count on finding an accessible restroom. I can live my life independently because accessibility isn't just a nice idea—it's protected by law.

That doesn't mean we've reached the finish line. Far from it.

There are still plenty of places in America that earn a failing grade when it comes to accessibility.

Older cities, like New York, can be incredibly difficult to navigate in a wheelchair. I've encountered restaurants with steps at the entrance, inaccessible bathrooms hidden upstairs or downstairs, subway stations without elevators, and buildings that simply weren't designed with people like me in mind.

Accessibility also isn't the same thing as inclusion. A ramp might get me through the front door. It doesn't automatically make me feel welcome once I'm inside.

There's still work to be done—not just in making spaces physically accessible, but in making sure people with disabilities are included, valued, and seen as equal members of our communities.

Lately, many people in the disability community have also expressed concern about policy changes and proposals they believe could weaken protections or make it harder for disabled people to continue living independently in their own communities. Regardless of where we fall politically, I think it's worth paying attention whenever disability rights and independence are part of the conversation.

The ADA has transformed millions of lives, including mine. It has allowed me to work. To travel. To own a home.

To go to concerts. To eat at restaurants. To shop. To vote. To participate in my community.

Most importantly, it has allowed me to live my life with a level of independence that simply wouldn't have been possible in many places—or many eras.

So this July, while I'm celebrating America's birthday, I'm also celebrating one of the greatest pieces of civil rights legislation our country has ever passed.

The ADA isn't perfect.

America isn't perfect.

We still have a long way to go.

But I love this country, and I'm incredibly grateful to live in a place where accessibility is recognized as a civil right, not a privilege.

Happy Fourth of July.

And Happy Disability Pride Month.

Let's celebrate how far we've come—and keep working toward a future where accessibility and inclusion aren't goals we're still striving for, but realities everyone gets to experience.