My Dream: A Gimpy Monologue

 

He had a dream, that we will be judged not on the color of our skin but on the content of our character. He died for that dream in 1968. It’s been over 40 years since then, and still that dream has been deferred, and the many that chase remain downtrodden and deterred. He had a dream that one day his family could walk into a restaurant and not be gawked at like a specimen of intellectual inquiry. If that man were alive today, she would call a new speech dream 2.0. But since he’s not here, let me tell you my dream.

My dream starts with the end of a nightmare, a nightmare in which people born differences all over the world are made to feel out of place. They’re made to feel like they’re either specimens to be examined, or delicate fragile glass figurines to be protected at all costs. It is a nightmare in which we are reduced to stereotypes of saintly martyrs, enduring our suffering the smile upon her face, never to be seen as we truly are, a complete package, fully hum

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an. It is a nightmarish world in which we are remembered by our disability and not necessarily our names. It is a world where we are condemned to a stock image of asexuality, mind condemned be separate from body, a world where wheelchair is seen as a burden instead of a boon. This is a world in which it is probably 50% more likely at minimum that a child like me will be borne a double minority, carrying the stigma of all worlds from which he or she comes… But the nightmare ends here, it ends now.

My dream is the same as his, to live in a world where skin color doesn’t matter, and where there’s an aluminum alloy accessory for all those who want one. It’s seen as a statement, not a disability. My dream is a world where all people can earn a living wage, regardless of color, gender, creed, orientation, or physical or mental difference. We live in a country where the unemployment rates are sky high, but did you know that the unemployment rate for persons with disabilities is nearly double that of the average populace? In my dream, people are valued for that which they should be held most esteemed; the common humanity we share with one another. My dream is one where our differences are looked upon as they are, true diversity, and means for new ideas and innovative ways of being. A world where gratitude outweighs sorrow is one where productivity and creativity coincide, working hand in hand to create a world that we all can be proud of. I am not a skilled orator or preacher, I don’t have a PhD. But I do have a dream, and that dream is for you, and you, for you, and for me. It is a dream where we work toward a world that strives for truly equality. That is my dream, I may not be Dr. King, but I have a dream and it is a dream that shall not be deferred, and those who share in it shall not be deterred.

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