How I Became an Ally for the Trans* Community

            Normally when I write a blog post, the inspiration behind it comes about in one of two ways. It is usually either an issue that I have always felt strongly about and just happened to want to write a blog post about (for example, the first blog post I ever wrote, which was about being pro-life and about disability rights), or something will happen to me that inspires me to sit down and write (Like my post about Mr. D, the homeless man who taught me how to dribble a basketball). The post I am going to be writing about today does not fall into either category. In fact, until recently, the issue I will be discussing today was something that rarely ever crossed my mind.

The issue I will be writing about is how I decided to become an ally for members of the Trans* community. It seems that so often when we hear about the LGBTQ community in the news, it is revolving around gay marriage or other issues of gay rights. There is rarely any talk about the Trans* (which signifies transgender male or female, bi-gender, genderqueer or anyone else who does not fit into the gender binary) community, Trans* rights or transphobia. Like I said before, I was not conscious of this until recently. I am a cisgender (I.e., the gender I was assigned at birth matches my gender identity) bisexual female with the vast majority of my family and friends identifying as cisgender as well, so Trans* issues have generally been the furthest thing from my mind. I was never transphobic, but since I also was not doing anything to help the Trans* community, that made me a "victimizer", albeit an unintended one (Deutsch and Steil, 1988). I decided that it was time to change this when a friend of mine from high school came out as Trans*. At my all-girls, Catholic high school, Cabrini, we were taught from day one that all Cabrini students are sisters. We are each expected to look out for our Cabrini sisters, an expectation I have always taken very seriously. If one of my Cabrini sisters needs something, I make sure to be there for them. When one of my friends came out as Trans*, I knew that I had to be there for my Cabrini brother. I immediately started doing research about the Trans* community and learned about Trans* etiquette, which I will discuss in more detail later in this post.

When I began my research, I was absolutely shocked and horrified by the violence and transphobia faced by the Trans* community. In one survey, over 80% of respondents reported being the victim of verbal abuse due to their appearance, and about a third of respondents reported physical abuse (Transgender Issues: A Fact Sheet). Statistics like these break my heart, and it infuriates me that we live in such a transphobic society. I cannot imagine how awful it must be to have to be afraid when you go out in public that you will be harassed for who you are or how you look. Reading these statistics made me realize just how privileged I actually am. I was already conscious of and saddened by the amount of privileges I receive just by virtue of being white and middle class after reading McIntosh’s “Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” (1990). On top of that, I am cisgender, which offers another “invisible knapsack” of its own. I do not have to worry about finding a gender-neutral bathroom, and I will never have to fear that I will be harassed in a gender-specific bathroom. I do not have to endure constant questioning and rude comments about my gender identity. I can wear outfits that match my gender identity without having to worry that it could cost me a job. I never have to experience dysphoria, which is the acute awareness that one’s gender identity does not match one’s physical appearance.

 Once I was aware of the privileges I have as a cisgender woman, I decided it was not enough to just read about the statistics related to the Trans* community and learn things about Trans* etiquette, such as what is acceptable or not acceptable to ask a Trans* person. While these are important things for me to know, I wanted to be more than just informed. I wanted to be helpful to the community and change the pervasive prejudice that the Trans* community faces. I decided that I needed to become an ally. An ally is “a member of a dominant group in our society who works to dismantle any form of oppression from which she or he receives the benefit (Ayvazian, 1980).” I started small, by sharing images on my Facebook page supporting Trans* rights, and sharing information about fundraisers to help offset the costs of my former classmate’s transition surgery. Then, I began taking a class called Social Psychology of Social Justice. In this class, we have to do a twenty minute group presentation on a topic of our choice. I signed up to work with a classmate who is vocal about supporting Trans* rights, as well as many other social justice issues. We decided to do a documentary-style presentation about what it is like to be Trans* in today’s society and how people can become a Trans* ally. We have interviewed a Trans* woman and a Trans* man, and we still have one more interview to complete as of right now. The two interviewees were wildly different in terms of personality and in their experiences with transphobia, but both had valuable lessons to offer. I wanted to include some lessons I have learned from them. Think of it as “Trans* Etiquette 101” or “Ten Ways to be a Trans* Ally (…but this is absolutely NOT an exhaustive list)”

1. One of the interviewees said something that was simple, yet oddly profound. She said that the way to be an ally is to just be a friend. Listen when your friend needs to talk, and be there for them when they need you. All people need a friend.
2. If you do not know which pronouns a Trans* person prefers, ask. It’s as simple as that.
3. Once you know the pronouns a Trans* person prefers, USE THEM.
4.  Do not ask about a Trans* person’s sex life.
5. Do not ask about a Trans* person’s genitalia.
6. Do not ask a Trans* person what their “real” name is. Call them whatever name they give you.
7. Even if you knew a Trans* person before they came out as Trans*, you should not call them by the name they used before coming out.
8. Use the name they tell you, but if you mess up, apologize and move on.
9. Be respectful, not judgmental. One of the interviewees talked about being judged by family members, and that saddened me deeply. Respect is key to being an ally!
10. Stand up for Trans* rights and speak out against transphobia.

Readers, today I challenge you to learn more about becoming an ally, whether it be for Trans* people, or for any other group. My male readers could look into women’s rights. My white readers could research discrimination against minorities. People without disabilities could advocate for better compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act. God bless!

Finding Your Passion

My last few blog posts have been about Camp Dream Street, a place that helped me figure out who I want to be and what I want to do with my life. The next topic I want to cover is this journey of figuring out who we are and how we want to spend the rest of our lives. My story is pretty unusual because I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to be by about age 6 and I knew for sure by age 19. I saw art therapy on “Full House,” one of my favorite shows as a child. I distinctly remember pointing to the TV and saying, “Mommy, what’s that? I want to do that when I grow up!” but neither of us knew what that therapeutic method was called. Through the years, I continued to have an interest in art and psychology, but I couldn’t figure out how to meld my two main interests.  I went through several career possibilities but eliminated each one for a variety of reasons. Singing was fun, but impractical, and unlikely to be a successful career. Teaching sounded rewarding, but I generally don’t like speaking in front of large groups if I can avoid it. Psychology or psychiatry was a good choice, but I knew I would miss my art. Graphic design, makeup art, costume design, and advertising all sounded fun and interesting, but were missing the social justice aspect that I was looking for. I prayed and prayed that God would show me who He wants me to be. During art class my sophomore year of high school, my teacher finally helped enlighten me by describing art therapy. That moment was life-changing. I finally found my passion (although being at Dream Street confirmed that art therapy truly is my passion). I did plenty of research to find out what I could expect to make, where jobs could be found, and what colleges offered art therapy as a major. That last bit of research wound up not mattering; I decided to double major in art and psychology so that I could attend Spring Hill College for undergrad, and wait until graduate school for actual art therapy. I’m only finished my freshman year of college, and I already can’t wait for grad school. I’m considering a few different schools, but I think I will probably wind up at FSU. I am so psyched about the art therapy curriculum at FSU! The classes all sound like so much fun! …You’re probably wondering why I’m babbling about my passion when this blog post is supposed to be about finding you’re passion, aren’t you? Well, there is a method to my madness, I promise! Work with me here! :)

My point in describing the process I went through to discover my passion was to show you that you won’t necessarily figure it out overnight. It took me nearly twenty years to realize exactly who God is calling me to be. I figured it out by examining what my favorite pastimes are, by doing research, by prayer, and by volunteer work that related to my career possibility. If you are unsure of what you want to do with your life, start by examining who you really are. A fabulous place to start is career quizzes, which use questions about your personality and favorite activities to match you to a career that fits you. I also used a little questionnaire from the book Writing to Change the World to help me figure out what I want. I will include the questions and my own answers at the end of my blog to show you how it works. I highly recommend this questionnaire; it also helped me figure out what I wanted my blog to be about when I first started it.

If you are struggling to figure out what college to apply to, what major(s) to choose, what job to aspire to, DON’T PANIC. Take a deep breath. Start by thinking about where your strongest interests lie. I’m not talking about things that you dabble in. I will never be a makeup artist because that isn’t where my strongest interest is. I like it, but it’s not my passion. Do you like art? Science? Math? English? Music? Thinking about subjects you like in school is a good place to start. Think about your hobbies. Think about whether you are introverted or extroverted. I love people, but I am most comfortable around small groups of people. That’s why I know teaching probably isn’t for me. If you have done volunteer work, think about the type you prefer. Do you like working with animals? People? If you want to work more with people, would you prefer children? The elderly? Somewhere in between? I prefer working with children and teens, so that’s why I chose a career that will allow me to work with age groups I prefer. Finding your passion may not be easy, but it is worth the search. When it finally clicked for me that I am supposed to be an art therapist, I felt absolute peace and joy. I know I am here for a purpose, and that drives me to work hard and to succeed.

One of my high school teachers once told us that when she got her job back after Katrina, she literally danced a jig. THAT is the kind of enthusiasm you should feel about your career, college, major, etc. If you don’t feel that, maybe you should explore other options. I know I’m in the right school because I actually can’t wait to go back. I know I’m heading in the right career path because I totally can’t wait to get started. If you haven’t found your passion yet, be patient. You’ll find it one day, and trust me, it’s worth the wait!
Here are Mary Pipher's questions from Writing to Change the World, and my responses*:

1.     What makes you laugh, cry, and open your heart?

There are so many things that make me laugh!  My family. My friends. Myself. My pets’ crazy antics or just silly animals in general. Children. Children’s movies and books. The “Hey Burrito” song at camp. Corny jokes. Funny facial expressions. Auto-Correct fails collected on various websites will make me laugh until I can barely breathe. What makes me cry is also a pretty long list. Books with a touching message. a particularly beautiful song, painting, or dance can make me cry with joy no matter how many times I read, hear, or see them. Injustice of any kind makes me cry with sadness. Bullying. Homophobia. Bigotry. Child abuse. Animal abuse. Mentally ill people who can’t or won’t receive treatment, and thus can’t reach their potential. What makes me open my heart is very simple: God, loving family, and supportive friends. I know I can pour out my heart to them without being judged.

2.    What points do you repeatedly make to those you love?

I am constantly reminding my family and friends how much I love them, and that I would do anything for them. I also remind them not to worry about me because I am strong, hard-working, and independent.

3.     What topics keep you up at night or help you fall asleep?

Things that keep me up at night include social justice issues such as gay rights, pro-life, bullying, etc. blog posts (I started writing this one at 3 a.m.) keep me up if they are about a topic I feel strongly about. Knowing that many people don’t have food, shelter, warm clothes, and a loving family keeps me up at night. A good book will also keep me up at night. I can fall asleep knowing that my family loves me, my friends support me, God is always with me and loves me more than I can comprehend, and I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and clothes on my back. I can fall asleep knowing that I am here for a purpose and that every day I need to work toward fulfilling that purpose.

4.    What do you know to be true?

I know that God is real, God loves me my family loves me. My friends love me. I was created with a purpose. my disability does not have to hold me back. Art is more than just a pretty picture or sculpture; it allows us to see into the mind and heart of the artist. Art and music can heal. I also know that injustice makes me sick and it is my responsibility to fight for justice.

5.     What do you consider to be evil? (my responses are not in order of most evil to least evil or vice versa. They are just in the order I thought of them.)

   Violence, greed, prejudice and racism, bullying, crime, abortion, homophobia, indifference to the suffering of others, etc. This question depresses me. I think I’ll move on.

6.     What is beautiful to you? (again, no particular order, just stuff that popped in my head) Hope. Love. Joy. Faith. God. Churches. Rosaries. The Eucharist. The Bible.  Sunsets. Sunrises. Butterflies. Flowers. Birds. Cats. Dogs. Dragonflies. My friends. My family. New Orleans. Charleston. Beaches. Mountains. Spring Hill. Cabrini. Paris. Architecture. Vintage cars.  Life. Peace. Justice. Rainbows. Art in any form- painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, architecture, books, plays, poetry, music, dance, etc. Makeup. Gemstones. Crystals. Pretty much anything colorful, sparkly, or polka-dotted. Hearts. Peace Signs. Smiley Faces. Bright colors. Art Deco. Ladybugs. Cats. Kittens.  Dogs. Puppies. Tigers, especially white tigers. Lions. Birds. Horses.

7.     What do you most respect in others?

Honesty, integrity, faith, hope, love, independence, courage, perseverance, positivity and standing up for one’s self and one’s beliefs.

8.     What excites your curiosity?

Social justice issues, science, art, music, enthusiastic teachers, sign language, makeup artistry, nature, photography, architecture, history (particularly the 1920’s, ‘30s, ‘40s and ‘60s), learning about my own religion, as well as the religion and culture of others, and dance (even though I don’t dance, I love watching dancers and learning about different styles of dance).

9.     If you were the ruler of the world, what would you do first?

I would have to do two things: make abortion illegal, and make gay marriage legal.

10.  What do you want to accomplish before you die?

A LOT! Here’s my bucket list:

a.     Travel for fun and for mission trips

b.     Become fluent in American Sign Language, French, and maybe Spanish

c.     Join or start a women’s wheelchair basketball team wherever I wind up living after grad school

d.     Get a master’s degree in art therapy and a Ph. D in psychology

e.     Get married

f.     Have and/or adopt kids

g.     Try wheelchair dancing

h.     Go to a Paul McCartney concert

i.      Raise awareness about spina bifida, and disability rights and access enough to make changes in my neighborhood, and hopefully more far-reaching changes.

j.      Learn to cook

k.    Try karaoke

l.      Learn how to play guitar (third time’s the charm.. I keep trying it and losing interest a few months later because it hurts my hands)

m.   Attempt to learn to play the violin

n.     Learn to hit the high note in “Defying Gravity” consistently. At the moment, it’s a total crap shoot. Sometimes I hit it perfectly, other times it’s AWFUL.

*Pipher, Mary. Writing to Change the World. S.l.: Riverhead , 2006., n.d. Print.

Camp Dream Street, the Happiest Place on Earth Part 2: Upper Staff

Being on upper staff was always one of those things that I thought vaguely about doing in the future if I became an art therapist, but it somehow never crossed my mind as something I should try to do while I was still in college. Enter Sarah, the same friend who encouraged me to apply for GE. She texted me one day out of the blue and informed me that she was applying for upper staff, that the applications were due in about a week, and that I should definitely apply too. I was torn; I knew I loved Dream Street dearly, but I had some reservations about applying, mainly that I was worried about being rejected. Finally, after much hemming and hawing, I thought, “Why not? What do I have to lose?” and got to work on the application. As it turned out, I did the application twice, because I accidentally deleted my entire first attempt. Three hours later, I FINALLY finished the application for the second time. I wasn’t really expecting to get in because it was my first time applying, but I thought I might get constructive criticism for next year or something. So, once I sent in the application, I put it out of my mind.

Around the time I was expecting to hear whether or not I got accepted, I started having computer issues as well as mountains of homework, so, upper staff was once again the furthest thing from my mind. However, on February 16^th, I decided to check my email when I was in the library, because I knew that the internet was down in my room. I scrolled through and didn’t really see anything interesting at first, until I noticed a subject line that said “Congratulations!” Then, I noticed the email address said @dreamstreetms.org. At first, I just stared open-mouthed at it, not fully believing what I was seeing. Finally, it clicked… I realized that I had, in fact been chosen to be on upper staff. Normally, receiving news like that would result in me exclaiming, or jumping up and down, or something else equally goofy, but because I was in the library, I had to limit myself to a whispered “OhmyGod, ohmyGod, OHMYGOD!” I got quite a few funny looks, but I didn’t care! I WAS GOING BACK TO DREAM STREET! I made so many phone calls that day to tell my family and friends. I was absolutely on top of the world!!! I remember thinking that I didn’t care what went wrong that day; none of it mattered because I chosen to go back to camp.

In the weeks that followed, I had activities to prepare and a costume to make, as well as papers, tests, minor health issues, doctor visits, and finally, finals. It got a little hectic (okay…very hectic…), but totally worth it!  Knowing I was finally going back to Dream Street made it all worthwhile. After a great deal of preparation and collaboration with my mom and my aunt (who made my costume and helped me prepare my face-painting activity) it was finally time to go back to camp. The night before camp, I got about four hours of sleep because I was so nervous and excited. I couldn’t wait to see everyone again and do arts and crafts with the campers, but at the same time I was terrified. I wanted so badly to make a good impression as well as hold my own with much more experienced upper staff, so that I could be invited back next year. SPOILER ALERT: It turns out I had absolutely nothing to worry about. Being on upper staff was one of the most wonderful and rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. It was stressful and exhausting at times, but I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in the world.

The first two days were devoted to orientation, and I found them both educational and wildly intimidating (THIS WAS NOT, I REPEAT NOT, the fault of the other staff. I just tend to be a pretty nervous person/perfectionist in general). It was at orientation that I became fully aware of what was expected of me (well…duh. That’s the point of orientation). Not only do the upper staff have specific activities we are responsible for, we are also who the counselors come to with questions and concerns of any kind. Being a newcomer, and a generally nervous person, I began to worry that I wasn’t cut out for this responsibility. I was afraid that I was going to make some egregious error and be told to go home and/or never get invited back. Apparently, I have quite the wild imagination, because this is NOT how things went. I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t make mistakes, but I will say that things ran quite smoothly, and that the art room seemed to be a pretty popular place during the week .There were a few challenges to overcome, like homesickness on the first day of official camp, exhaustion from lack of sleep and unusually strong side effects from my medication (severe drowsiness and moderate dehydration), art room cleanup until 2 a.m., occasional, unexpected bouts of shyness when it was time to explain activities, scooter problems, and stomachaches, but these were NOTHING compared to the good times at camp. I had a fantastic time, learned so much, and made soooooo many friends.

I learned so much from the upper and professional staff! Miracle, having been on upper staff before, was so patient with me even though I probably asked her a billion questions about how to be a good member of the upper staff. Natalie, like Miracle, was patient with me even though I pestered her with questions every single day. No matter how busy she was, she took the time to make sure any of my questions and/or concerns were taken care of. Steve kept me laughing the whole week, even when I was stressed out. Jocelyn was always there for me because we were in the same cabin. She gave me advice, helped me with things I struggle with, like putting my sheets on my bed, as well as navigating around the camp.  I am particularly grateful that she (and various others) helped me navigate around the camp. I seem to have a mental block against the layout of the camp; I couldn’t find the art room without assistance until the second to last day!  Jonathon inspired me with his positive attitude. His positivity seemed to make him particularly popular with the campers.  The professional staff showed me how to be friendly, helpful, and entertaining no matter how busy and stressed I may be. Last, but definitely not least, Kim and Mike did an incredible job as director and assistant director! They gave me tons of advice, support, and encouragement that helped me get through the week. They were very understanding when exhaustion set in midway through camp and let me leave some of our late-night staff meetings early. They were kind, flexible, and always made me feel comfortable asking for help. They taught me that, while independence is great, there will be times that I need to ask for help and that’s really okay. I absolutely despise asking for help, but their kindness made it much easier for me to ask. I am so grateful that they chose me to be a part of the Dream Street upper staff. It was such a blessing!

I had two activities that I and whoever else happened to be working with me on a given day would teach the campers. One was a Buzz Lightyear inspired telescope, and the other was a Hamm the Pig mask. The kids really seemed to enjoy the activities, but I think I had almost, if not as much, fun as  they did. After giving instructions, I got to circulate around the room, chat with campers and counselors, and offer to help if needed. These campers are some of the sweetest, funniest, and most inspiring people I’ve ever met. Each child taught me so much. I won’t mention them by name in here, but there were a few kids who I will forever be grateful for the lessons they taught me. I may have taught them how to do a few art activities, but they taught me so much more. There was a little girl who never said much, but giggled and smiled constantly. She also explored every inch of the art room, preferring to roam or look around rather than make telescopes. She reminded me to have a positive attitude no matter how stressed I may be, and to never stop exploring and learning. There are always new things to see and learn and experience. I met several future comedians who always kept me entertained. I met a young woman with fantastic artistic ability and conversational skills. I’ve seen this particular camper at Dream Street before, but never sat down and got to know her. Spending time with her in the art room made me wish I had gotten to know her sooner. She was very intelligent and confident, and seemed older than her age. One boy did something very unexpected and cool; he changed my Hamm the Pig mask into a T-rex mask. I thought it was great that he did something so different and creative. He took my project and made it into something better.  Working with these kids was such a blessing! I loved every minute of it. Being with these kids, teaching them, and learning from them has convinced me that art therapy is my true calling!

I’ve known since I was little that I was interested in art therapy, but there were always those nagging doubts that maybe I should pick a safer career, something more well-known and with a higher salary. Working at camp finally destroyed my doubts! I now know without a doubt, God is calling me to be an art therapist. Art therapy is truly my passion, and it’s because of Dream Street that I was able to fully realize this. I’ve always loved kids, always loved art, known I want to work with children who have disabilities and I known I wanted to make a difference with the career I choose.  My favorite aspects of working at Dream Street were seeing the smiles on the kids’ faces,  talking and interacting with them on an individual basis whenever possible, and seeing what kind of creative and unique spins they would put on the projects I taught them. Doing things like this on a daily basis would be the best job ever! I don’t think it would even feel like work. Thank you to everyone at Dream Street for making this the most rewarding and wonderful week I’ve ever experienced. God bless! 

Camp Dream Street, the Happiest Place on Earth Part One: The GE Years

                I’m just going to be completely honest; I’ve been procrastinating about writing this blog post for a few weeks now. It’s not that I don’t want to write about Camp Dream Street. It’s that writing about a place where I’ve grown, changed, and learned so much kind of intimidates me. Okay…REALLY intimidates me. I have so much to say, but it’s all so hard to put into words. I guess I’ll just dive in and try to express how much I truly love Camp Dream Street, and how much influence it has had on my goals, my independence, and many other facets of my life.

                I am relatively new to Dream Street. I’ve heard people say they’ve been at Dream Street 5, 10, even 20 years, but I’ve been to Dream Street a mere three times. I heard about Dream Street when a very close friend of mine, Sarah (she first attended in ’08) told me how much she loved it, how I needed to go, etc. I was pretty reluctant at first, mainly because I had never stayed away from home for any length of time, and I really didn’t think I was independent enough (and I was kind of a chicken lol). Finally she convinced me to apply in ‘09. I was too old to be a camper, but I was old enough to be a Great Expectations participant. I went ahead and applied, anxiously waiting to find out if I got accepted. Finally, I got the news that I was accepted to GE! Despite my initial reservations and jitters on the day we drove to camp, I was totally excited to go to Dream Street!

                My first day started off a little rough. I barely said a word to anyone because I was so overwhelmed and shy. Luckily, I was befriended by a very outgoing girl at the camp. By the end of the first day, we were totally inseparable! She taught me a lot about speaking my mind and standing up for myself. Even though we grew apart after our second year of Great Expectations, we reconnected a few years later when I found out she was in the hospital. Tragically, she lost her battle with blockage in her colon soon after we reconnected. Because of her, I’ve learned that I should be confident and should never be afraid to be myself. My true friends will love me for who I am. I don’t think I would be where I am today if I hadn’t met her. She was an amazing young woman, and it broke my heart to lose her so soon after she reconnected. Nonetheless, I was blessed to know her and she changed my life for the better.

Before GE, I was painfully shy. I’m still a pretty quiet person, just less so now, and I don’t have as much anxiety in social situations anymore. I don’t think I spoke very much my first year, even if it was just in front of the other GE participants, and by my second year I was singing in front of the whole camp! GE made me realize that what I have to say is important, and I should never be afraid to speak up. It gave me the courage to speak in front of my whole school my junior year about why I’m pro-life, have a discussion with several sophomore and junior religion classes about what it’s like to live with spina bifida, and then enter a speech competition, speaking about respecting people with disabilities. It also gave me the courage to speak up in the campus newspaper about the problems with disability access at my college. Before GE, the idea of merely answering a question in class or having to lead prayer for my whole class was enough to make me want to pretend to be sick so I could get out of it. GE helped me find my voice and my confidence!

GE also helped me become much more independent. My first year, I was constantly forgetting to bring essential things with me; a bathing suit on days we were supposed to swim; various toiletries for "shower party" (for those unfamiliar with dream street, that's just the name for shower time. Many campers need assistance transferring into and out of the shower. To keep it as fun as possible during shower time, they play music and listen to radio broadcasts about what happened at camp.), etc. The upper staff in my cabin were constantly finding and bringing me things that I couldn’t find or forgot. By my second year, I was pretty independent when it came to getting myself up, dressed, and packed for the day, etc. The independence I gained at Dream Street gave me the confidence to look at colleges other than just local colleges. I looked at College of Charleston and Millsaps, but I fell in love with Spring Hill College. It is a small Catholic college that is absolutely perfect for me! I couldn’t be happier at Spring Hill! I will forever be grateful to Camp Dream Street for giving me the courage to go outside of my comfort zone and explore out-of-state colleges. I’ve met people that I know will be my friends for life, and I’ve taken classes that have inspired me and made me a better person. Going to Spring Hill was one of the best decisions I ever made, and a decision I never would have had the courage to make without Dream Street.

I also got to do so many new things in GE, things I never thought I would be able to do. I walked on a balance beam (it was just a few inches off the ground, and I had two people holding on to me, but it still counts, as far as I’m concerned), I played wheelchair basketball for the first time and fell totally in love with it (which led to the basketball coach at my high school to teach me more about basketball, and the volleyball coach to teach me how to play volleyball in a wheelchair), and got to drive a car. I don’t have my permit yet, but I’m working on it now. Being a part of GE broadened my horizons and showed me that having a disability doesn’t have to hold me back! I never thought I would play sports, and I wasn’t sure when or if I would be able to drive. Now I know that with hard work, a will to succeed, and just a pinch of Dream Street magic, I can do anything I set my mind to!

Something else that was a new and valuable experience was helping upper staff member lead an art activity. Because I want to be an art therapist and work with children who have disabilities, I’m so glad I had this opportunity to practice doing arts and crafts with kids. This experience encouraged me when I wasn’t sure if art therapy was the best career for me, but it didn’t convince me entirely. The experience that made me absolutely, 100%, completely, entirely sure that art therapy is my true calling occurred this past summer…To Be Continued!

If the world was more like Camp Dream Street

NOTE: For those of you that aren’t familiar with Dream Street, it is a camp in Mississippi for children and teens with disabilities. IT’S AMAZING!!

Living with a disability can be tough, especially for young people with disabilities. However, every summer, there is an amazing place where kids with disabilities can forget the problems and challenges. Unfortunately, Dream Street only lasts a few days and the kids are sent back into the real world, which often presents serious challenges like bullying, ignorance about disabilities, and a lack of compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act. If the world was more like Dream Street, life would be a lot simpler for people with disabilities, and a better place for everyone. If the world was more like Dream Street, every building would have ramps, elevators and wheelchair accessible doors. At Dream Street, it is so easy to get around! If the world was more like Dream Street, every person would feel loved and accepted, regardless of disability, gender, religion, race, or sexuality. If the world was more like Dream Street, all people would be taught from a young age that no matter what, every person is deserving of respect, dignity and love. If the world was more like Dream Street, violence and crime would be much less of a problem, because people would learn from an early age how to get along with and respect others. If the world was more like Dream Street, all people would be encouraged to reach their full potential no matter what challenges seem to stand in their way. Giving up would not be an option. If the world was more like Dream Street, no one would ever have to feel alone. There would always be someone they could lean on during hard times. If the world was more like Dream Street, people would start their day bright and early with silly songs and stretching, providing them with energy and a positive attitude. If the world was more like Dream Street, people would learn that being goofy doesn’t have to be embarrassing; it’s actually pretty fun. If the world was more like Dream Street, people would be less self-conscious and would have the courage to be themselves. If the world was more like Dream Street, the world would be a better place.