Throughout my life, I have been called inspirational, brave, and courageous because I live life with a disability. Many people have expressed how much they admire me. I used to just accept it. However, over the last few years, those kind of comments have really started to frustrate me, and here’s why.

Admiring me because I live with a disability and have scars and wake up each morning with chronic pain to simply live my life…it’s pity in disguise. This kind of admiration says to me: “Wow. If I had experiences like yours or lived with some kind of impairment, I don’t know if I could face that.” And what, I’m some kind of construct to measure against so you can say to yourself, “Thank goodness I don’t live like that.” Within the disability community, this concept is known as inspiration porn. As was stated in the hit-show Speechless, “It’s a portrayal of people with disabilities as one-dimensional saints who only exist to warm the hearts and open the minds of able-bodied people.”

Other examples of inspiration porn include stories such as the star athlete at a local school taking a girl with Down Syndrome to prom or images of athletes competing in the Paralympics with the caption, “The only disability in life is a bad attitude.” Seriously? Give me a freaking break.

I’ve had my fair share of these kind of experiences as well. When I was in middle school, every year there was a beauty pageant, and each grade was allowed 3 or 4 contestants. The contestants were chosen based on nominations and votes made by each grade, and when I was in 4th grade, I nominated myself but then changed my mind and stated, “Nevermind, no one is going to vote for me anyway.” Even now, I don’t know why I said it. Maybe it was rooted in my strong desire to be liked and have friends, but as you might imagine, my entire class heard the statement. And lo and behold, I was chosen to take part in the beauty pageant that year. While at the time I enjoyed the experience, now it simply fills me with disgust, and I wonder, “Did my classmates or school ever realize that by providing me with this experience, they were simply using it so they could feel good about themselves for doing a ‘good deed’?”

Years later, when I was in college, my dad and I were walking around downtown Asheville and trying to kill time before going to a concert at The Orange Peel, and an older gentleman came up beside me and started clapping and stated, “God bless you, sweetheart. Way to go.” I was floored. I stared at the man in disbelief and didn’t even respond. Looking back on it now, I wish I had said, “Honestly, saying something like that is incredibly demeaning. I don’t exist to provide you with warm and fuzzy feelings, and I am not here for your pity.”

Don’t admire me for simply living, for doing every day things you can accomplish without even batting an eye. Because to be honest, I haven’t done anything extraordinary. I have a college degree, I recently got my master’s degree, I have a full-time job, I drive a car, and I pay all my bills. But so have thousands of other people in the world. But are you going to walk up to them with a huge smile on your face a say, “Wow, you inspire me so much. I really admire you?” I highly doubt it. Just because I have accomplished those things while also having a disability does not make me admirable or courageous or brave. I am not your charity case or your feel good story. I don’t exist so you can put your life and obstacles into perspective. I am not here so you can pat yourself on the back and check off “do a good deed” on your list of life goals. I am simply doing the exact same thing every single other person in this world is doing: existing.