Brain Health for Youth

Photo of Keah by Grayley’s Moon.

By Keah Brown

My journey as a writer began when I was eight years old. I sat on a twin-sized bed in my room curled up with a green college-ruled notebook whose cover read, “Keep Out! Property of Keah Brown.” The contents ranged from poetry to songs and short stories — poorly written, I must admit, but necessary for my growth nevertheless. Inside this notebook were hopes and dreams I remain eager to fulfil and see come to fruition. I let every emotion, feeling, and thought I had onto the page. The notebook was half diary, half creativity, and when inspiration struck, there it was under my white antique dresser, the best hiding spot I could think of, waiting for me. My love for the written word came early because my love for books and reading began early. In fact, one of my fondest memories of my childhood was reading the romance novels my aunt took out from the library when she was done reading them. I fell into the worlds of Sidney Sheldon, Nora Roberts, James Patterson, and Jude Deveraux long before I understood the entirety of what I was reading. In their worlds, the adventures were my respite, the chance to focus on the worries, realities, and experiences of others while pretending my own did not exist.  

I was an anxious child, in secret of course, always worrying about which person I loved, I would lose. I began spending my nights pleading with the universe to keep them safe, happy, and alive. On top of the worry surrounding losing my loved ones, I began to worry about what I believed was my inherent role as a burden to my family and friends because of my cerebral palsy. Disabled people are taught by society at large that our needs, however wide-ranging they might be, are enough to warrant a resentment that can lead to mistreatment and sometimes, in most horrific cases, death. So I did my best to make myself small. At night, I begged God to make me “normal” and, despite the unyielding love from my family and friends, I began to hate myself and resent that my prayers for normalcy were going unanswered. I was an anxious child who became an anxious adult who glommed onto the idea that my body made me unlovable — and ran with it. My first published pieces as a writer basked in my resentment and discomfort for my body, waxing poetic about how hard life was as a disabled person. I started therapy not long after (thank God) and realized what a disservice I had done to and for myself and the community.  

Alongside therapy and saying four things that I like about myself, I began to love myself and my life changed. I started believing more was possible for me and listening when my loved ones told me that I was not a burden, and anyone who treated me as such was not worth my time or energy.

After a viral hashtag and three books, I find myself unable to create. As a person who learned to traffic in hope and who has always had a special connection with the written word, the fact that I am unable to get past the ideas stage is more than disheartening. There is nothing like seeing the thing that you have created in stores and knowing it will find a home with readers who need it. I miss that.  

Photo of Keah by Greyley’s Moon.

The truth is, I don’t know who I am without writing and I don’t want to. When someone reaches a level of visibility that three published books provide, despite the fact that they aren’t award-winning, I think there is a consensus that life is great, and my issues are few and far between. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I am well aware that living through an ongoing pandemic, climate change, and a world on fire — personally and culturally — has something to do with it, but now, when I look at a blank document, my anxiety spikes instead of the usual rush of adrenaline.  

At the tail end of last year, after I was done promoting the publication of The Secret Summer Promise, my third book, I spent my days in bed crying and unable to get up. In the off chance that I did find my way back to my laptop, I spent it letting tears line my keyboard in place of words. I was withering away. The once vibrant, eager, boisterous version of me was now the depressed, exhausted, lonely reality of me. After years of pretending to be fine and trying to push through, I knew then, after months of trying to make a middle-grade novel work, that I needed more help than monthly therapy sessions could provide. With shaking hands and a tear-riddled voice, I went to my primary care physician and told her I needed to be put on depression and anxiety meds. They were not the easy fix I was hoping for. At almost eleven months into the year, I’ve adjusted the brand name and milligram of my med a few times. I just now feel like I can function and have started dipping my toes into writing poetry again. I don’t believe that everything is better now, but I trust myself enough to be honest about what I need so that I can show up long enough to attempt to create another long piece of work. Writing books has been my dream since I was eight years old. My name has been on a book spine three times, and my hope is to write one million more books across genre and about messy, complicated, but lovable characters who are just trying to figure themselves out and where they belong in the world. In order to do that, though, I have to take care of myself and my wellbeing so that I can show up for the stories I have always been so eager to tell.  

Keah Brown is a writer, journalist, and disability rights advocate known for her impactful work on the intersection of disability, race, and self-love. As the creator of the viral hashtag #DisabledAndCute, Brown promotes body positivity and self-acceptance for disabled people. Her works include The Pretty One, The Secret Summer Promise, and Sam’s Super Seats.

By Grant Stoner

October marks National Disability Employment Awareness Month (NDEAM), a time to highlight the importance of equal opportunities within the workforce for disabled individuals. This year’s theme, “Access to Good Jobs for All,” reinforces the narrative that everybody is deserving of a well-paying job. And for disabled Americans still fighting for issues like marriage equality, financial security, and accessible spaces, it’s a step in the right direction for the government to acknowledge this aspect of the disabled experience.

For me, NDEAM allows me to reflect on my career as an accessibility reporter in the gaming industry. While I have yet to acquire a full-time job, my work as a freelancer has offered me numerous opportunities to earn money for things like savings, important life events, and even fun treats for friends and family. With my five years of experience, I wanted to share some tips for those interested in becoming a gaming journalist, more specifically, a disabled gaming journalist.

Grant and his girlfriend

Write, Write, and Write

This may seem obvious, but to be a journalist, you need to write. I’ve been professionally writing since 2019, publishing numerous reviews, developer interviews, community reports, and even opinion pieces on the state of accessibility in the gaming industry. But long before I had bylines at publications like IGN, WIRED, and Easterseals, I began learning how to convey my thoughts into cohesive sentences at my university’s school newspaper.

Since 2015, I’ve written with the goal of becoming a games journalist. While I initially had no intention of exploring accessibility and the disabled perspective with my stories, I always wanted to see my name on websites and within magazines that I grew up reading. And when I first started, I was admittedly terrible. My stories lacked emotion, instead, being nothing more than a checklist of a game’s features followed by a quick, ultimately meaningless sentence of whether I liked a title. I was never going to impress editors with my mediocrity. But with each review, each feature within the school newspaper, each draft returned by my editors, I became more confident in myself as a writer.

Despite graduating with a degree in Multiplatform Journalism, I will be the first to admit that I didn’t learn how to become a writer by attending college courses. Instead, my knowledge came directly from trial and error, as well as the guidance of my editors. And since higher education can be incredibly expensive and pose numerous barriers for disabled individuals, I’m here to tell you that you don’t need to have a degree to begin freelancing. You just need to prove to editors that you know how to write.

The Art of the Pitch

Before any good article comes to life, they all start as an idea. When writing independently, you don’t need the approval of others to begin developing your work. However, when freelancing, each article needs to capture the attention of whatever publication is worthy of your story. For example, with this very piece, I needed to convey to my editor – Hi, Erin! – that Easterseals’ readers would be interested in a feature exploring tips and tricks on how to freelance.

You need to provide samples for editors of your work. Show them why you are the best person to write the specific piece. If I’m pitching a story that deals directly with accessible innovations at studios like PlayStation, I’m going to demonstrate my knowledge on the subject through previous stories. And if you lack an extensive portfolio, utilizing your lived experience, particularly as a disabled individual, is just as important as having written examples.

Marginalized stories are best told by marginalized people. While it is possible for publications to write about disability and accessibility without hiring a disabled freelancer, you can prove to editors that your voice can provide nuance that others may lack. Did a company release a new piece of hardware, and do you have a physical disability? You can use this information to prove to editors that your years of using accessible devices makes you the right person for the job. Portfolios are important, but so is intrinsically understanding how to be disabled in the gaming industry.

Rejection Happens

When writing about subjects like accessibility and the disabled perspective, many publications often struggle to see the newsworthiness of these topics. Despite approximately 25% of the population living with some form of a disability, the nature of stories told about us continues to be framed as inspirational or pitiful. We still struggle to be viewed as confident and independent individuals, often infantilized for the enjoyment of others. And these preconceived notions and stereotypes of disabled people continue to plague the appeal of stories that actively push back against these beliefs. Unfortunately, this consistent uphill battle means publications may deny pitches.

My first freelance piece was published on October 5, 2018. Since then, I’ve published dozens of stories across numerous publications. Yet, for every story accepted, dozens have been rejected. And each reason can vary. From a lack of budgets to timeliness, and even an inability for editors to understand the importance of why certain stories need to be told means that I’m very familiar with rejection. While it’s important to acknowledge that rejection stings, it’s equally important to remember that one “no” does not make you a bad writer. As cliché as it sounds, the best piece of advice I can give is to keep pitching. Sometimes stories aren’t meant to be published, and sometimes it’s possible to save an idea for later, but a rejection is not a reflection of you as a writer.

I’m incredibly proud of the work I’ve done since I entered the professional space in 2019. And for this NDEAM, I’m incredibly thankful that I can continue doing this job I so dearly love. Yet, it’s important to remind others that disabled individuals belong in each space, not just the gaming industry. As we continue to normalize our voices across publications, we deserve a place within the workforce. As accessibility continues to evolve, disabled people need to be front and center to discuss these innovations.

Grant Stoner is a disabled journalist covering accessibility and the disabled perspective in the gaming industry. When not writing, he is usually screaming about Pokémon or his cat, Goomba, on social media.

By Day Al-Mohamed

Welcome to  National Disability Employment Awareness Month! So what is this “celebration” in October? In many ways, behind the anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) on July 26th, October has grown to be the second largest disability-focused time period in the year (not including disability-specific days which may hold more significance for individual disabled communities). As per the US Department of Labor, NDEAM is the month where  “we celebrate the value and talent workers with disabilities add to America’s workplaces and economy. NDEAM’s purpose is to confirm our commitment to ensuring disabled workers have access to good jobs, every month of every year.” It is a time where companies and businesses are encouraged to support, improve, and celebrate disability in their workplace. Why do we have this? Because disability is still not adequately represented in the workforce. Only 37.5% of the disabled population is employed as compared to 75% of the non-disabled population. 

Despite Congress passing the ADA in 1990 and the rise of the disability rights movement, systemic discrimination is built into our processes and policies – in education, housing, healthcare, and most relevant for our conversation today, in employment. It is still legal to pay disabled employees  subminimum wages in ‘sheltered workshops’ — a relic of the 1930s allowed by the Department of Labor under the auspices of maintaining employment opportunities for people with disabilities. Perhaps even more devastating in the current era of discussions around diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) in the workplace, disability is often forgotten.

The Centers for Disease Control state that 1 in 4 adults in America have a disability, yet nowhere is underrepresentation of the disability perspective more obvious today than in mass media. Film, television, and other media seem to have not embraced disability inclusion in a way that is meaningful. GLAAD’s 2020-2021 study analyzing the overall diversity of primetime scripted series on broadcast networks, “Where We Are On TV,” highlights the fact that only 3.5% of characters have a disability, many played by non-disabled actors, and that network television “severely underrepresents the U.S. population living with disabilities.” A recent USC Annenberg study of the 100 most popular movies of 2019 found that only 2.3% of all speaking characters were depicted with a disability, and nearly half of the films did not include a single character with a disability. While there are no analogous studies for behind-the-camera and those working on films, anecdotal evidence highlights similar disparities in representation.

Day on the job.

That is part of the reason that disability was front and center in both the content of our American Masters/PBS series RENEGADES and also in process. RENEGADES is a series of five 10-minute short films designed for an intergenerational digital audience that showcases the lives of little-known historical figures with disabilities, exploring not only their impact on and contributions to U.S. society, but also the concept of disability culture, which honors the uniqueness of disability. Hosted and narrated by the musician and disability rights activist, Lachi, and created and produced by a team composed of more than 90% D/deaf and disabled filmmakers, the series is designed to increase public knowledge of disability, and also use these historical individuals’ lives as keystones to reexamine universal concepts such as identity, community, and normalcy from a disability culture perspective.

Infused with the spirit of the disability movement’s mantra, “Nothing About Us Without Us,” RENEGADES places a focus on authentic storytelling, with a cast and crew that are majority disabled people; and a majority filmmakers of color. Filmmaking is a “team sport” and like disability itself, it isn’t about independence so much as interdependence. Filmmakers with disabilities belong in media as much as any other industry. We believe our film series is proof of that. 

In celebration of NDEAM, the RENEGADES short film series will be released on PBS’ website and YouTube channel starting October 1, with a new episode dropping every Tuesday. In addition, we are working with PBS Learning Media to develop curricula to bring a greater understanding of disability and history into classrooms across the country. The films are provided with ASL, Captions, and Audio Description, as well as an accessible transcript.

RENEGADES will feature the following groundbreaking individuals:

Judy-Lynn del Rey: Galaxy Gal – Premiered Tuesday, October 1 

Judy-Lynn del Rey (1943-1986) was a woman with dwarfism who revolutionized the world of science fiction by editing and publishing books from sci-fi luminaries such as Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov, Philip K. Dick, and even George Lucas’ “Star Wars” in novel form. Through her story, RENEGADES shows how science fiction narratives, through their speculative and imaginative nature, offer a more inclusive and equitable lens through which to redefine disability.

Daniel Inouye: Life of Service – Premiered Tuesday, October 8

The first Japanese American to serve in the U.S. Congress, Daniel Inouye represented the State of Hawai’i for more than 50 years. As the first-born son of Japanese immigrants, Inouye’s early life was a balancing act of heritage and identity as an American. During his World War II service, he was injured in battle, resulting in the amputation of his right arm. Following the war and 22 months of rehabilitation, Inouye pivoted into law and public service, first winning territorial seats, then moving up to the U.S. House of Representatives, and then to the U.S. Senate. While also representing Hawaiian interests, his national policy work revolved around civil rights, civil liberties and support for policies that promoted equality for all peoples.

Celestine Tate Harrington: Building A Legacy – Premiered Tuesday, October 15 (Her birthday!) 

Born with a condition that left her limbs unusable, Celestine Tate Harrington was a street performer in downtown Philadelphia and on the Atlantic City boardwalk in the 1980s and 1990s who impressed audiences with her skill at playing the electric keyboard with her tongue. When the Philadelphia Department of Public Welfare attempted to take away her infant daughter, claiming that Harrington was physically incapable of caring for a child, she successfully defended her right to parent. In the courtroom, Tate Harrington demonstrated her skills – dressing and undressing her daughter, and changing her diaper, using only her lips, teeth, and tongue – and retained custody. She used the limited preconceived notions of others to prove that she was capable of raising a family and breaking the cycle of poverty.

Thomas Wiggins: Composing the Future – Premiered Tuesday, October 22

A composer and pianist known as the greatest musical prodigy of his time, Thomas Wiggins was blind from birth. Some contemporary sources have also noted behaviors that indicate he also had autism. Born into slavery, Wiggins was the first African American to perform at the White House and toured throughout the U.S., South America and Europe. The Emancipation Proclamation went into effect in 1863, but Wiggins was put under a conservatorship, and fought over in the courts as property – perpetual bondage until his death.

Brad Lomax: Creating Communities of Care – Premieres Tuesday, October 29

A civil rights and disability rights leader who had multiple sclerosis and used a wheelchair, Brad Lomax was  a member of the Black Panther Party and founder of the East Oakland Center for Independent Living. He was a key protester during the historic 26-day sit-in of 1977 at the Federal Building in San Francisco, which demanded the federal government enforce regulations to prohibit discrimination of people with disabilities. 

You can read more about the series in the Press Announcement, or you can check it out in more detail at the PBS website.

Day Al-Mohamed is an author, filmmaker, and disability policy advisor. Day has written two novels, “Baba Ali and the Clockwork Djinn” and more recently, “The Labyrinth’s Archivist” as well as multiple short stories and articles. She is a regular host on Idobi Radio’s Geek Girl Riot with a weekly audience of 100k+ listeners and a Founding Member of FWD-Doc (Documentary Filmmakers with Disabilities).

Her documentary, THE INVALID CORPS, about disabled Civil War soldiers, was licensed to Alaska Airlines and had its broadcast premiere on public television in 2020. She is currently working on a docu-series, RENEGADES, of role-breaking disabled leaders in history for American Masters/PBS digital (October 2024) and is a proud producer of feature documentary UNSEEN (POV, 2024). Day was named a DOC NYC 2021 Documentary New Leader, was part of the NBC 2022 Original Voices Fellowship class, and awarded a Disability Futures Fellow grant in 2024.

Outside of her creative work, Day is a policy expert with over 15 years of experience. The former White House Director of Disability Policy, she is a proven leader in inclusion and accessibility, policy development, organizational transformation, and innovative program design. Day lives in Washington DC with her wife, N.R. Brown, daughter Octavia, and guide dog.