
I was having trouble summoning sleep late into last night so I thought I might as well dispense with long overdue business like listening to some of the latest talks posted up at TED.
(Although, as well I should have known, this is not the cure the doctor prescribed for insomnia.)
So I bumped into Aimee Mullins.
Maybe you’ve heard of Aimee Mullins. Maybe you haven’t. She had both her legs amputated at the knee while she was still an infant. Despite this major setback so early in life, she went on to become a Paralympics record breaker, a model and actress. And might I add, motivational speaker.
Her story, as she tells it
here, is all about the triumph of the human spirit in the face of overwhelming odds. It’s about how one woman looked the very thing that threatened to hold her down squarely in the eye and by sheer force of will, transformed it into the thing that held her up.
At TED, she spoke about the potential for the disabled to design their bodies for their own empowerment. She herself has 12 pairs of prosthetic legs. Each pair gives her a distinct identity. With each pair, she describes how she consciously makes a choice about who to be. She smiles as she recounts how, on one occasion, someone whose own legs were intact expressed genuine envy about this ability she had to continually transform herself. Genuine. Envy. Of someone who would normally be an object of pity.
All because this amazing woman has focused her creative energy on her prosthetic legs to such an extent as to help transform what once was a disability into a super ability, and in doing so, is challenging the very nature of the conversation about her place and the place of those like her in the scheme of things. It was once a conversation about deficiency. It has become a conversation about potential:
“People that society once considered disabled can now become architects of their own identities…by designing their bodies from a place of empowerment.”
In one instance, she collaborated in the creation of prosthetic legs merely “to provoke the senses and ignite the imagination,” in what she describes as the process of combining emerging technology with age old poetry.
That’s the thing that resonated most with me. She made me marvel anew the place of the creative enterprise in everyday life:
“Poetry matters. Poetry is what elevates the banal and neglected object to a realm of art. It can transform the thing that might have made people fearful into something that makes people look, and look a little longer. And maybe even understand.”
Poetry. Art. Music. The creative enterprise. This is their finest moment—when they give people the courage to look and the eyes to see the layers of meaning and the wide swath of possibility present in a given thing, in a particular moment, in a very specific idea. This is the poetry of everyday life. When we write stories, when we compose songs, when we make art that enables people grapple with ideas that they do not have the courage to confront raw, we build a bridge, we make our difference.
In the comments, there are those who point out that there are thousands of people around the world who cannot even afford one pair of basic prosthetic legs. This is true. This bears keeping in mind.
Also, another voice adds, how far ought we to push this, really? Because once you have cheetah’s legs, where do you leap to from there? What will it mean? Which is a reasonable question—is there a line? Can it be crossed? Who’s to say when it’s been crossed?
Me? Right here, right now? I’m just amazed at the strength of this particular human spirit. And reminded about the potential that lies within each one of us.
Bravo, Aimee Mullins.It's my window, but I don't own the view.