What a TV Show Taught Me About Disability That Two Decades of Living with One Hadn’t

I can still remember the first time I saw the trailer for the sitcom Speechless. Minnie Driver was looking with disgust at the garbage ramp of her local high school, shouting at the principal, “Is my son trash to you?” Driver was playing the mother of a nonverbal wheelchair user with CP. Her son, JJ, was played by Micah Fowler. She then forced the principal to play a spirited round of “Is this trash or is this a person?”  

By the time the trailer said Speechless would be coming to ABC, I was in stitches and knew I would be watching religiously that fall. However, I did not understand what had truly occurred in that moment. Looking back at it now, I can proudly say that at the age of 28, I finally met the person I wanted to be when I grew up, and his name was JJ. 

Speechless was created by Scott Silveri, who also worked on Friends. It’s based on his experiences growing up with a brother who was also a nonverbal wheelchair user with CP. The show has the feel of a standard family sitcom. However, beneath the laughs, the show tackled heavy topics like dating, inspiration porn, caregiving, and family dynamics — topics that continue to affect my life. 

Educational TV 

When I was 5 years old, I noticed that my family members could walk without help. At the time I just thought I was a late bloomer. The truth is, for the longest time, I saw myself as someone who was essentially nondisabled, but for some reason used a wheelchair. For example, I can walk with assistance — all I need is someone to stand behind me and put their hands under my armpits.  

Once I realized I was disabled, I still believed physical disabilities only affected one’s physicality. Sure, I knew I needed help to shower, eat and use the toilet, all of which is inconvenient and annoying, but I never thought CP would also be challenging in emotional and psychological ways. Thanks to Speechless, I now realize that minimizing my own experience is a form of internalized ableism, but at the time I didn’t even know what ableism was.

When I was out with friends or family and someone would congratulate me on deciding to leave the house, I would smile and say thank you, even though it always felt weird and I didn’t really know how to respond. That is until Speechless taught me about inspiration porn.  

At the time, I distinctly remember thinking, “Oh! That’s what that is.” And then feeling a strange mix of joy and relief that I had finally learned the language to describe a rather weird phenomenon and could call it out by name. I then sent out a group text to friends and family and excitedly told them, “So apparently, this thing where people praise me for going to the supermarket has a name. It’s called inspiration porn. And it’s happened to me so often that if opera doesn’t work out, I can definitely consider a second career as a porn star.” 

No doubt JJ was cooler than I was. We both got standing ovations for inspiration porn-esque reasons, but only he had the guts to tell an entire classroom full of people to go eat a bag of dicks. Clearly JJ had the courage to stand up for himself in ways that I technically still don’t feel comfortable with, but after watching him, I felt seen and vindicated. It was my first time seeing disability anger, and I still envy him for his ability to be angry.  

Talking about that scene later with my mother, she mentioned that he could get away with it because at 16 years old he’s still a teenager and his brain isn’t fully formed yet.  I replied, “No, mom, that’s not why he did that.” And I didn’t know what else to say. That conversation was the first time I recognized ableism from a family member. It was frustrating and isolating and I’m still working through it. But there is still a lot of power in being able to call it what it is.  

I eventually thought of JJ as the big brother I always wanted even though he’s technically younger than I am. He just seemed way more comfortable in his own disabled skin than I was. Additionally, his parents and caregivers, for all their quirks, seemed cooler than mine.  

In one episode his mom actually helped him to run away from home. Of course, she had to pack a bag and run away with him in his wheelchair-accessible van, but as a mother she wanted to give her disabled son the experience of running away. Prior to seeing that episode, I never thought I could run away if I wanted. I didn’t realize that just because milestones looked different for disabled people doesn’t mean they can’t happen. Later when JJ’s mom swallowed her motherly misgivings and took him to a strip club, I was floored. 

The Power of Representation 

Speechless was my first encounter with accurate and intentional disability representation in the media. I learned so much about myself and the challenges that people with disabilities face in the world. Above all, I learned that I wasn’t alone, and that particularly when things got bad, I wasn’t crazy.  

Shortly after I started watching Speechless, I joined a CP support group and I met an awesome group of people, some of whom have become my closest friends. But I didn’t feel that need for community until I started watching Speechless and realized what I was missing without other people with disabilities in my life. 

Years later, on my birthday, my aide took me to a convention. I had the good fortune to meet Kyla Kenedy, the actor who played Dylan, JJ’s sister on the show. I thanked her profusely for Speechless and told her everything the show means to me. She said that she could call Micah Fowler and see if he was available to say hello.  

What followed was the best conversation of my life, but don’t ask me what happened because I couldn’t understand a word of it. Between my speech impediment, Micah’s speech impediment and the loud music of the hotel ballroom, neither of us could understand a word of what the other was saying. Nonetheless, to this day I feel a sense of kinship. To Micah and the character that he played, I just want to say, “Thank you.”