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Chloée Catherine

Accessibility and Disability Consultant | Activist Scholar | Blogger | Crip Queer | Settler PhD Student

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When I reflect back to September 13, 2022, I find

When I reflect back to September 13, 2022, I find myself drifting to questions I will probably never have answers for. What was the first thing that crossed my mind when I saw the horse heading in my direction – knowing that I could not move fast enough? How did I drag my crip and injured body up wooden steps? As I weaved in and out of consciousness, did I think that this might be the end of my time on earth?
That I might be reunited with my father? Was I satisfied with how I chose to spend my life? Was I wondering who would take care of my animals? Was I at peace with leaving everything and everyone I loved behind? A year ago today, I found myself in close proximity to death – in a way I never experienced before. I was in a serious accident at a place I once called my safe space. Somewhere I would enter to escape my routine for a few hours. To escape daily accounts of ableism. To escape societal barriers. To escape internalized thoughts. Somewhere I could breathe and reset before doing life once again. That somewhere was at the boarding facility my horses were located at. I sustained a few injuries, and was admitted to the hospital and the rehabilitation centre for a total of three weeks. But, for me, my physical injuries did not amount to the impact on my mental health and the trauma occurred upon returning home. I felt incredibly lost for months – not knowing where to turn to find the life I once had. To discover that individual I so desperately wanted to be once again. But instead I became an individual I did not know. I ignored my hurt and trauma-rooted self instead of caring for myself and embracing my healing journey. I led a life instead of truly living it. I pushed away individuals instead of inviting them into my life. I made mistakes. I have regrets. But now I have peace and I am proud of myself. Today – exactly a year later – is when I begin sharing my experiences, not only during my accident, but also those deriving from it. I am incredibly grateful that I now have the capacity to reflect through this past year and the willingness to share my journey in such an open way. Please follow the link in my bio, and then ‘read blog’, for more.

I struggle with the fact that I am usually positio

I struggle with the fact that I am usually positioned as dependent by individuals I cross paths with. But sometimes the opposite occurs -- and in those rare instances, interdependence takes place. Moments, such as the one described below, bring me such joy. Just before I bent down in my wheelchair to pick up after my service dog’s bathroom break, an individual caught my attention. They first asserted: “I know you are able to do it.” And then pose: “... but would you like some help?” And I proceeded to smile. I will never know if this individual grasped the significance of their gesture – but they removed me from a position of dependence, and validated my agency as someone who could direct the outcome of our interaction. And ultimately, they perceived myself as someone who could make decisions – such as receiving or declining assistance. In that moment, I felt extremely understood by an individual who I may never engage with again. I felt that my capacity to engage within society with my own terms was recognized. And as a crip queer in an ableist society – in that brief encounter, I felt seen. Society readily depicts disabled persons as receivers of care and undermines our agency to be independent beings. I am often told that I need assistance by individuals who impose themselves in my daily living activities without acknowledging the possibility that I can complete something independently. I constantly attempt to disrupt the societal preconceptions that lead to such assumptions without much (if any) success – resulting in exhaustion. I have the desire to lead a life that stems from interdependence – not dependence. But I am exhausted by the constant need to assert my independence. And with that, my dream of interdependence fades too often. In that short interaction with me, the individual recognized the value of asking what my needs were instead of assuming them based on a brief analysis of the situation. Words have so much power – especially in short interactions, such as the one I entertained with this individual. Continued in comments.

When I reflect on Disability Pride Month, I think

When I reflect on Disability Pride Month, I think about how, just a few years ago, I did not understand what disability pride was. How I did not find crip joy in little moments of daily life. How I did not know anything about disability history.

I think about how I did not identify as a disabled person – let alone a crip queer.
I think about how I was so fixated on the ableism I experienced and all the barriers I encountered.
I think about how I blamed my disability for being the one thing that prevented me from fulfilling my goals in life.
I think about how I attempted to remain within the parameters defined by an ableist society that I did not even begin to consider a life beyond them.

I think about the capacity and space I did not have yet to consider my disabled life in a different lens – one that would later bring me much joy.

It was not until I started discovering my sexual identity that I started to feel a sense of belonging to disability communities – the moment I recognized being disabled was so much more than my medical diagnosis.

For me, it is about collectivity and community.
It is about moments of collaboration and innovation.
It is about celebrating ways of living that extend socially constructed boundaries.
It is about centralizing intersectionality.
It is about imagining crip futurity.

I still experience very dark moments. Moments of despair. Moments of self-hatred.

But now I have the tools and I understand the frameworks – and the ways I journey through those moments lead me back to pure crip queer joy.

Happy Disability Pride Month!

#Accessibility Image Description and Hashtags in comments.

I have always communicated with a speech impedimen

I have always communicated with a speech impediment – and yet it is an aspect of my experiences as a crip queer that I will never be comfortable with.
I am still readily grieving the capacity to be understood in all types of situations.
This grieving process is more pronounced when I must advocate for myself – particularly in environments deemed stressful. Or when I do not grasp onto educational opportunities because I am simply afraid of not relaying key messages to others.
I often choose to remain silent instead of providing insight that may be useful in a specific moment since I am already anticipating not being understood.
I refrain from partaking in conversations that are not structured for fear of not being understood – despite wanting to voice my perspectives and engage with folks who are akin to my speech.
This is why I typically practice advocacy through the means of written content, or presentations with scripts available, allowing other individuals to follow my thoughts without the communication barrier that is often my speech impediment. But what if I have the desire to journey beyond my comfort zone?
Should I aim to share my lived experiences and learned knowledge, all the while knowing that many folks would not capture the message and perhaps be deterred from listening to the very end?
I was recently invited to participate on a radio show about topics that are very important and prominent in my life as a crip queer. Before any feelings of joy and pride, though, the first thought that crossed my mind pertained to my speech impediments and to the audience.
Would my communication hinder the flow and rapidity of the conversation between the host and myself? Would the audience tune out a few minutes into this conversation? Would my message be relayed in the most accurate and efficient way possible? Would this consume too much energy and time for the audience, host – and ultimately myself?
I am so grateful for the reporter who contacted me and their willingness to reflect with me about alternative ways of engaging – because holding a conversation on a radio show for a seven minute segment might not be feasible.
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Let’s talk about yesterday evening – when I wa

Let’s talk about yesterday evening – when I was escorted home by two police officers. About two weeks ago, my wheelchair stopped functioning for no apparent reason. I was inside – in a communal space – and my friend helped communicate what was happening to a technician over the phone. When they arrived at my location a few hours later, my wheelchair’s issue seemed to have resolved itself and was moving again. Reflecting back to that moment, I should have interrogated further. I should have been more assertive. But I did not and I was not. I was just relieved that my wheelchair functioned properly – and that I could leave on my work trip as planned. Fast forward to this evening. Denise and I were mere minutes away from home when that same issue occurred once again. But this time I was in my small town – and technicians were not working. I was relieved that the weather was comfortable and that Denise and I were safely parked on a lit sidewalk. I thought that the issue would resolve itself within the next few hours. And I would be content to wait until then.
I knew that my friends would drive out and help me – but I usually struggle asking for help. And this evening was no different. I am the one who wanted to relocate in a small town, away from my support system. And for that reason I feel more burdensome reaching out to friends in the city. About half an hour into this adventure, two friendly individuals came to check in – and they rapidly convinced me to let them call 911 on my behalf. Another half hour passed and I was walking into my front door with the support of one officer whilst the other was pushing my wheelchair manually. I had such a lovely conversation with the police officers as we unpacked a few assumptions together – on all of our ends. I will not be so hesitant calling for help in the future. I am incredibly grateful for the pedestrians – for their willingness to help and to ensure I returned home safely. And recognize my privilege of owning an accessible vehicle that provides a sense of safety – and a means of always returning home with my motorized wheelchair. Even in moments where challenges arise – such as yesterday evening. But I am grateful.

I rarely feel debilitated by my own disability. Co

I rarely feel debilitated by my own disability.
Concomitant pain that I experience does not readily impact my capacity to participate in daily life.

What debilitates me, however, is the additional – and very necessary labor – I must perform simply to access the various resources and supports I need to facilitate my participation as a disabled person.

And the anxiety.

I increasingly feel debilitated by the anxiety I experience as a result of attempting to move through life in similar ways as non-disabled persons.

This additional and necessary labor is not planned.

Today is one of those defeating days consumed by anxiety because access to resources and supports easily made available to my non-disabled counterparts is otherwise denied to me as a disabled person.

The additional and necessary labor imposed upon me is a component of life that non-disabled persons may not even consider – and the anxiety that occurs because I fear for negative outcomes.

This anxiety removes my capacity to produce in daily society and puts a halt to tasks I planned for the day.
It consumes time dedicated to my studies, my work – and any remaining time i could have used for self-care,

This anxiety is amplified by a society constructed for non-disabled persons.
By a lack of education.
By a lack of knowledge.
By a lack of willingness to generate accurate responses for the diverse needs of disabled persons.

This anxiety is a reflection of answers conceived by non-disabled persons.

Ultimately, it is a result of the battles I need to undertake simply to respond to demands imposed by an ableist world.

Until I cease to navigate an ableist world, I will continue to be debilitated by anxiety.

And I do not anticipate an end to ableism – not in the immediate future, anyways.

#Accessibility Image Description and Hashtags in comments

I’ve felt discomfort with the term ‘inspiratio

I’ve felt discomfort with the term ‘inspiration’ for as long as I can remember.

Folks often label me as inspiring just for living my life in a way that I choose.
I’ve struggled with this sense of entitlement for attributing my lifestyle as their source of inspiration.

But my relationship with ‘inspiration’ shifted immensely subsequently to my accident.

My medical team used ‘inspiring’ at times when they discussed my progress – and in those moments I understood they were not referring to my reality as a disabled person.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments.

But to the fact that, despite the possible severity of my injuries, I somehow recovered quickly.
That I seldom asked for any medication to alleviate pain.
That I was so determined – so persistent – to return home and resume my life as best as I could, despite the trauma my body experienced.

It was throughout my hospitalization and rehabilitation stay that I slowly allowed myself to unpack my resentment towards this term.
I began to be inspired – not by anything I personally achieved – but inspired by the resiliency my body exemplified during the recovery phase.

I was inspired that my body could heal, in a physical capacity, so rapidly – which allowed an earlier discharge date.

I will never be inspired by myself – but I will forever be inspired by that journey.
That journey where I developed a new appreciation for my crip body.
And for everything it allows me to achieve on a daily basis.

I went silent, albeit very unintentionally, for qu

I went silent, albeit very unintentionally, for quite a while.
And I cannot articulate a proper reason for my long absence – other than life can sometimes become too much to handle.

The past year has been an exceptionally challenging one and I have caught myself drowning on more than one occasion.

I kept sinking.
And whenever I had capacity to resume my life, I would experience another low.
A cycle that has lasted for far too long.

Amidst everything however, I never ceased to learn.
And the desire to share my learned knowledge and lived experiences never ceased either.

That is why I return after such an extended period of time.

I first created this platform to disseminate knowledge and share my own diverse and intersectional lived experiences.
And even though some experiences and knowledge reside in the past, they are still very much prevalent to share.

And perhaps this sharing can generate awareness on topics that are not readily accessible and addressed in contemporary society.

So welcome, once again, as I unravel the various layers existing in my life as a crip queer.

I am also an activist.
Care recipient,
Community-based researcher.
Consultant.
Doctoral student.
Entrepreneur.
Horse owner.
Traveler.

And all of these intersecting identities (amongst others) ultimately impact the ways in which I perceive my lived experiences.

This is my crip queer journey.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments.

Last Thursday concluded the Global Disability Summ

Last Thursday concluded the Global Disability Summit 2022 - a two-day event of art, discussions, and hope.
Disabled persons, allies, community-based organizations, as well as decisions- and policy-makers came together to discuss the 'disability-rights agenda'. I learned from government officials throughout the world who shared various commitments pertaining to the accessibility, inclusion, and rights of disabled persons.
I am pleasantly surprised about the significant budgets that have been put aside to implements such commitments. I am relieved that much reflection has taken place and that disabling barriers are acknowledged publicly by stakeholders. But where do we go from here? Where is the progress that everyone was speaking of? How do we ensure the accountability of these decisions and policies? Why should I believe that lasting change is taking place when disabled persons remain at the margins of society?
I am conflicted by a number of thoughts and questions that are left unheard. It is one thing creating and sharing commitments, but quite another to actually enact change.
And when most of these commitments are rooted in a monolithic narrative, the majority of disability experiences are left invalidated.
Where were the voices of disabled Indigenous peoples? And the narratives of disabled LGBTQ2+s folx? And disability justice? Where was intersectionality in all of this?
It is imperative that intersectionality be at the forefront of disability discussions and policies -- and it was only addressed in sessions pertaining to gender.
But it also matters in development, education, employment, health, and everything in between. Without acknowledging the importance of intersectionality, there is only a fragment of issues related to disability being recognized.
Ableism and disablement are types of oppressions that are holistic -- which is addressed through intersectional lenses. And decision- and policy-makers must be held responsible for ensuring that intersectionality is fully incorporated in the disability-right movement.
I am still processing everything that was discussed by each state. And their commitments. And their promises.
Where will all of this lead to?

I am currently in the midst of my second term as a

I am currently in the midst of my second term as a doctoral student – and I am constantly navigating my needs and wants against the demands of academia.

The first term was full of challenges and struggles – some of which I did not anticipate.

To be completely honest, the thought of leaving academia behind crossed my mind on multiple occasions.

I was under the impression that I was not supposed to be here.

That my research was not developed enough.

That I was not enough.

Imposter syndrome is real – but coupled with internalized ableism, it can become incredibly debilitating.

And yet, amidst all the inner and outer battles, there were moments of joy.
Moments of belonging.
Moments of progress.

And I am now in a space of contentment and of hopefulness and of stillness. Where I appreciate the strides I have made in mere months. Where I can see value in the learnings of my first term.

Where I am looking forward to my future as a crip queer Ph.D student.

Here are my top nine learnings from term one, in no particular order.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments.

I have always been intrigued by horses. Part of

I have always been intrigued by horses.

Part of my therapy program as a disabled child was hippotherapy – where my occupational therapist and physiotherapist would conduct sessions with the presence of horses.

It was a different way for me to engage in sessions without always partaking in the same exercises.

As my balance became more stable, I started riding in a ‘therapy’ program. I include the term therapy in quotations because my instructor was confident of my capabilities and together we developed a riding program that was tailored to my physical needs.

While it was still considered ‘therapy’, I learned to ride horses – and with each lesson, I became more independent.

I stopped riding when I entered college because I could not find a facility willing to provide similar lessons.

Upon moving to London, I attempted to start riding again – but the only program that could accommodate my needs as a disabled rider had a lengthy waiting list.

And by lengthy, I mean a few years.
I did not believe I would be in London by the time I would be chosen, so I never applied.

It is interesting to me that equine therapy and inclusive riding for disabled persons is not more prominent.

Being surrounded by horses has such a positive impact on individuals – both mentally and physically.
And, in my opinion, it is an innovative way to think about therapy and wellness.

But again, it is about availability and delivery of services.
And demonstrating that investments for inclusive spaces in the equine industry should become topics of discussions.

And acknowledging the cost that disabled persons must incur to fully participate in equine therapy and inclusive riding programs.
And finding programs that are willing to provide accommodations and safe spaces for disabled riders.

I never imagined finding a new passion for accessibility and inclusivity in the equine industry.
But here I am – excited to find out where this new side journey leads.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments.

For me, inclusion of disabled persons within socie

For me, inclusion of disabled persons within society cannot be attained by mere environmental accessibility. Rather, it is a combination of key elements that generate spaces where individuals can meaningfully participate and thrive if they choose to do so.

Key elements, such as carework, and cross-disability movements, and interdependence, and intersectionality, and sexual agency are often absent from discussions pertaining to accessibility and disability – many of which are entertained within businesses, corporations, private entities, and the travel industry.

Inclusion is about listening to disabled persons’ narratives and validating their lived experiences.
Inclusion is about working alongside disabled persons to recognize gaps in service delivery and shift existing practices accordingly.

I launched Chloée Catherine Consulting in February 2020 as a means of contributing to the disability movements.

Of inviting non-disabled persons to think through topics pertaining to accessibility, disability, and intersectionality.
Of generating difficult discussions – discussions that are often avoided, but must be started nonetheless.

Chloée Catherine Consulting is not generated on the premise that I hold all the answers. Because I do not.
I can only share my learned knowledge and lived experiences.

And collaborate alongside clients to find tangible solutions to increase inclusivity for disabled persons within their own spaces.

And provide guidance so clients can gain further understanding about disability cultures and communities.

Reducing barriers inflicted against disabled persons is important, but it is only the beginning of inclusion.

Do you want to learn more about my business and what I strive to achieve through it? Link to my business page is in bio.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments.

CW / TW - ableism, mental health, therapy I can n

CW / TW - ableism, mental health, therapy

I can never commit to therapy and I do not understand why.

I recognize the importance of it.
I rarely come out of a session regretting my time.

But still, after a few weeks, I typically disengage from it and avoid returning to a therapist.

I always seem to convince myself that therapy is not for me.

That my struggles are not valid.
That I do not have anything to work on.
That I should use that time for something else.

What a load of bull.

Today was my first day back in over a year and I feel extremely rejuvenated.

I am beyond grateful that my therapist still had space for me despite my prolonged absence.

Because they know the challenges I have experienced with therapy.

Because they recognize my fears and encourage me to engage critically meaningfully with these feelings.

Because they understand complexities of disability and queerness without attributing all of my struggles to my crip queer identity.

Because they allow me the space to voice my concerns and frustrations without always relating them to ableism.

For once, I am looking forward to next week’s session and excited for a new beginning with therapy – one that is not compounded by anxiety and invalidation.

I am worth the effort.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments.

'Make space for disabled persons’ is an encompas

'Make space for disabled persons’ is an encompassing statement that can be applied to every aspect of society. But today my reflection pertains to spaces on public transport – specifically conventional buses.

There was a time that I relied on buses throughout the summer months, but this is no longer the case. I am privileged to own a vehicle and to have reliable drivers. But the weather was bearable yesterday and the sidewalks were not horrible. And so appeared the urge to take the bus home from campus yesterday.

I left the office with a few minutes to spare before the bus’s arrival. I do not mind waiting in the cold, but my service dog does – so I timed it perfectly to spend only a few minutes outside. Upon arrival, the bus driver glanced at me and mumbled something I could not quite comprehend. I can almost guarantee that it was something along the lines of ‘there is no room for you’ and then proceeded to leave.

I would have been more understanding if no space was available to me and my service dog on that particular bus.

But there was.

The bus driver could have easily requested that individuals shift towards the back of the bus and then proceeded to let me in.

But the driver did not. Instead they proceeded to leave me in the cold without informing me if the next bus would be full or not.

And I did not want to take a chance and be turned away by yet another driver – particularly in the complexities of winter.

So instead I took the next bus with a stop further away from the one I anticipated getting off and requested to be picked up by my caregiver. I recognize the privilege in that statement because other disabled persons may not have access to that option – instead they wait.

Make space for disabled persons.

Disabled persons are never certain if they can embark on the desired bus because we never know if the two accessible spaces are vacant and available to us.

There is no way of knowing if we will be refused entry.

There is no generalization to be made – some bus drivers make the effort and find space for me when buses are crowded.

And in those instances, feelings of gratitude overcome me.

But the majority do not.

And that is a fact.

A few years ago, I was invited to a wedding that c

A few years ago, I was invited to a wedding that completely shifted what I had previously considered accessible.

Witnessing one of my oldest and dearest friends as she embarked on a new journey was such an honour.

But that is not the only reason that her wedding will forever be my favourite.

Alex went above and beyond to ensure that the entire event was accessible to my needs and that I felt included in everything we did.

And for that I will always be thankful to her for teaching me not all weddings are these anxiety-provoking, complex events, where my presence is too obscure to fully comprehend — and where my absence would be easiest.

For me.
For everyone involved.

Why was this wedding different than others I previously attended?

Because Alex readily included me in her wedding planning, and sought out my opinion before committing to an idea.
Because Alex, Gui (her groom), and the rest of their wedding party did not make me feel like a burden.
Because I celebrated the union of Alex and Gui without worrying about the intricacies of inaccessible spaces.
Because Alex knew that an accessible and inclusive space would benefit everyone, not simple myself — 'the disabled guest'.

What really got to me though was not the actual plans, but the way that these conversations were translated into tangible actions.

Alex would always initiate these important conversations — not me.

And just that simple gesture meant everything, because I did not need to be on top of everything.

In doing that, Alex gave me permission to breathe.
Permission to relax as she made accessibility and inclusivity her priority.
Permission to follow as she took the lead.

I cannot fully articulate the sense of belonging I felt throughout the wedding weekend. But it has provided me with hope and learnings.

Hope that, perhaps, future weddings will not have the same toll on my mental health as they did in the past.

And learnings that I will be able to disseminate about accessible and inclusive weddings.

All because my friend took the lead in ensuring that her wedding was accessible and inclusive.

#Accessibility Image Description and hashtags in comments

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