Hi, Gaston. Thanks so much for putting this article up here. I recorded my
computer reading it, and put it on the daily podcast that I'm doing for The
Global Voice for the duration of the Paralympics because the coverage by
other networks is so scant. If you want to listen to the latest podcast, go
to:
www.theglobalvoice.info
and go into the Program Gallery where you can listen to it. My latest Goin'
Like Sixty show is in there, too. And by the way, if anyone comes up with
articles on athletes from anywhere, or medal results that you think I might
not have access to, by all means send them to me. We have another 11 days
to go, so I'll always be looking for things to include. At some point, I
want to get hold of a recording of the Brazil national anthem, and include
it at some point when I'm short on material. For an anthem, I think it's
quite subdued. Devon.
-----Original Message-----
From: ourplace-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx [mailto:ourplace-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx]
On Behalf Of Gaston Bedard
Sent: September-11-16 9:27 PM
To: ourplace@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [ourplace] 7 paralympic medals, 5 world records and I still felt
shame
7 paralympic medals, 5 world records and I still felt shame
CBC Sports.
'I became mortified at the thought of everyone seeing my mis-shaped body,'
says Canadian star
Stephanie Dixon for CBC Sports
Stephanie Dixon's mother, back, made sure her daughter knew her body was
perfect. (Photo courtesy Stephanie Dixon) Stephanie Dixon's mother, back,
made sure her daughter knew her body was perfect. (Photo courtesy Stephanie
Dixon)
During my mother's pregnancy, her sonogram showed that her baby was healthy.
The sonogram showed that her baby had two arms, two legs, 10 toes and 10
fingers. The sonogram was wrong.
I was born missing my right leg and right hip, and some of my organs were
sitting outside the abdomen. Panic engulfed the delivery room apart from two
people. One of them was a nurse, who insisted this newborn be held by her
mother before being rushed in a helicopter to Sick Kids hospital. The other
was the baby who had no idea that missing a limb was anything to be fussed
over. Isn't everyone born this way? It sure felt normal to her.
With so many thoughts and fears filling my parents' heads, the sentiment
that stood out above everything else was, "She is beautiful. Her body is
perfect." And to make sure I knew it, they vowed to put me in as many sports
as possible. They were determined that I would feel empowered by my body,
not inhibited by it.
At 11 months old, I was fitted for a prosthetic leg. It helped me to walk,
but it was very uncomfortable and it always felt like something was weighing
me down. At two years old, I was put into a swimming pool and something
magical happened. Feeling more like a mermaid than a person, I was free -
physically, from my prosthetic leg and emotionally, from any kind of imposed
limitations or judgments.
The water doesn't judge you, feel sorry for you, or give you an easier time
because you have a disability - things I experienced every single day. I was
free to be me.
In the water, I gained confidence and self-esteem around my unconventional
body. I was very athletic and loved to challenge myself. I learned to walk
on my hands, ride a bicycle with one leg and no hands, do a back handspring.
I even won the high jump competition for my entire region in grade 7 and 8.
But despite all of my athletic achievements, people were still calling me
"inspiring" for doing normal everyday tasks, having no idea how demeaning it
felt.
I was once told, "Stephanie, you're so amazing! If I was you, I don't know
if I could leave the house." It's almost impossible to ignore these
unintentionally hurtful comments.
Dixon's euphoria after dominating the 2000 Sydney Paralympics was short
lived once she arrived home. (Greg Baker/Associated Press) Dixon's euphoria
after dominating the 2000 Sydney Paralympics was short lived once she
arrived home. (Greg Baker/Associated Press)
I began to swim competitively and very quickly started to qualify for
regional and provincial competitions. In my first year of swimming, I
learned about para sport and that I could be put into a classification of
swimmers who had a similar disability to mine.
At 13 years old, the last thing I wanted to do was stand out or be
different. I hated the thought of having the word "disabled" labelled across
my forehead during competitions or having different expectations and
standards than everyone else. I didn't want to participate, I wanted to
compete. But my parents and coach encouraged me to at least try para-sport
and I reluctantly agreed.
At the first competition I competed at in my new classification, S9, I met
other swimmers with disabilities for the first time. To my surprise,
everyone I met was similar to me. They didn't want a label, people feeling
sorry for them, or have different expectations or standards either. I
learned that contrary to public perception, all that "para" meant was a
level playing field to pursue athletic achievement, much like having
different categories for men and women.
In 2000, at 16 years old, I travelled to Sydney, Australia to compete in my
first Paralympic Games. There, I found a global community of people who had
the athleticism, heart, desire, and relentless determination that you would
expect from any athlete on the world stage, they just also happened to have
a disability. The stands were packed with 17,000 cheering people each night.
Fans were stopping us every two feet for autographs.
I laid everything I had on the line with no guarantee of success and I stood
on top of a podium with the Canadian Flag raised behind me while hearing our
National Anthem. Tears ran down my face; I have never felt so proud.
I came home with five gold medals, two silver medals and five world records.
I was living a dream until I went back to school and my classmates had no
idea what the Paralympic Games were. My bubble burst. I got comments such
as, "Aren't the Paralympic Games for Paraplegics? You aren't in a
Wheelchair!"
Instead of holding my head up high, I went into a shell and hid behind my
prosthetic leg. Suddenly the feelings of freedom and empowerment I felt in
the water turned into embarrassment and shame. I became mortified at the
thought of everyone seeing my mis-shaped body so I refused to go to school
without my prosthetic leg and didn't talk about my Paralympic Success.
It can be very difficult to imagine yourself as a champion or a role model
when many of your interactions with people have an unintentional, but still
demeaning undertone. I was training 10 times a week in the pool and up to
7.5 km per workout, the same as my teammates training for the Olympics. Even
still, l often heard from non-swimmers, "I bet you could even swim faster
than me!", a comment intended as a compliment. I would always just smile
back, but in my head I would be thinking "Are you f'ing kidding me?"
As a result of these kinds of comments, I have been fighting off feelings of
inadequacy my entire life.
Dixon established herself as one of the greatest Paralympic athletes of all
time.
Though Dixon has seen the Paralympic movement come along way, she wants it
to grow much higher. (Jean-Baptiste Benavent/Canadian Paralympic Committee)
Though Dixon has seen the Paralympic movement come along way, she wants it
to grow much higher. (Jean-Baptiste Benavent/Canadian Paralympic Committee)
As I went off to University I realized my life was being controlled by fear.
My prosthetic leg was no longer a tool that allowed me to be mobile and in
fact, I was more agile and comfortable on crutches. My prosthetic leg was a
mask that I was hiding behind in an attempt to look normal. I decided to
take control of my life back.
I went to half of my classes with my prosthetic leg and half of them on
crutches. I wanted to be proud of myself whether I had one leg or two. I was
the only swimmer with a disability on the varsity swim team and I was
determined to keep up. I wanted to change the way people viewed disability.
I wanted the word "disability" to become a descriptor and not a judgment of
ability or character.
During my first year on the University of Victoria varsity swim team at the
Canadian University (CIS) Championships, I swam to 15th place against
swimmers with two legs. I also went on to swim in my second Paralympic Games
in Athens, winning eight medals including one gold and setting a new world
record. Following that season, I was named the University of Victoria's
Female Athlete of the Year. It was my first time winning an award that
didn't have "with a disability" attached to it. I was finally able to hold
my head up high because the University of Victoria recognized that success
comes in all different shapes and sizes.
We have come so far in recognizing Paralympic sport and we need to keep
pushing the Paralympic movement forward. No one should ever feel ashamed of
their body or feel they can't celebrate their success. Paralympic sport is
about so much more than athleticism. Of course it is an elite sporting event
first, but it also creates a platform to normalize disability and celebrate
difference. We can all feel empowered when we focus on what our bodies can
do instead of what they look like.
(Stephanie Dixon is covering the Rio Paralympics for CBC Sports. Large
photos courtesy The Associated Press)
http://www.cbc.ca/playersvoice/entry/canadian-paralympic-swimming-star-doesn
t-want-crutch-of-prosthetic-leg
end of article.
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