My Voice Coach
I don’t know about you guys, but I hate losing things. Earlier this week, I found myself scouring the internet for a picture of me that was taken around 2010 in Raleigh at Pullen Park. It was a group photo of an organization I was briefly a member of called Disabled Young People’s Collective. I recently lost a dear friend and mentor named Stacey Milbern Park, and the reason I was searching for this particular photo was that I remember sitting directly beside her. The entire disability community lost a key member when she passed away this week on her 33rd birthday.
I first met Stacey in 2008 during what I have been told was the first Youth Leadership Forum (YLF) held in North Carolina on the campus of UNC Pembroke. My first impression of her was that she was a small, energetic Korean girl zooming at top speed throughout the crowd in her power chair. I remember thinking I would never be able to drive that fast without being afraid of hurting myself or others. But she had the confidence to pull it off. When our initial meeting was called to order, and I heard her speak for the first time, I found out she was one of the main organizers of the event. She was a captivating speaker, and I would have never guessed that a voice like her’s would come from someone only three years older than me. At the time when I met her, she was probably around 21 years old and had already amassed quite an impressive resume. Some of her highlights included doing some intern work for Iowa senator Tom Harkin and participating in numerous protests and marches of all kinds.
My first time with her was only four days long, but In that short time, due impart to her welcoming me into the disability rights community, I found my life’s purpose. One example was that she was the first person to give me a lesson in disability history. I loved it so much that I made it my major in college, and now I teach it throughout the state. Her patience during that first YLF week was that of a saint, and she made sure that everybody had a chance to reflect on what we were learning. As part of the class, we had an activity that we put ourselves in a timeline of disability history. To me, that showed us that we were all part of an ongoing movement for disability rights and that the fight is not over.
Another activity that stood out was that we were put into groups with other participants from our region, and told to design the perfect future for people with disabilities with money not being an issue. I remember she went to every group and engaged herself in the conversation. She always told the participants to dream big. I didn’t want those first four days to end because we had formed a tight-knit community of advocates. In our last assignment, we were to go back to our specific home base and start to make a change there. Before I even got home, I called my Exceptional Children’s teacher at my school, and I told her all about my experience at YLF. By that time, I was completely sold on the idea of disability rights. I joined every youth organization I could and eventually became an official member of NC’s disability rights movement.
It’s a rare, precious gift to have a friend that shows you part of what you’re supposed to do with your life. I was very fortunate to have several different in-person meetings where she and I would meet at least once a year. One time she helped save a school for the blind called Governor Morehead School in Raleigh from merging with the Eastern NC School for the Deaf in Wilson. The thinking was that they are two different disabilities that require different teaching methods, and both consist of unique cultural histories. She rallied enough young people with disabilities to protest that the state didn’t go through with the merger at that point.
I remember some of the smallest conversations we would have, and at the time, they were meaningful for an impressionable, young me. One time, I was going to fly to Albuquerque, NM, for a Kids As Self Advocates board meeting, and I must have been a bit nervous because this would have only been my second plane trip. I remember her convincing me that airline employees wouldn’t drop me during the transfer to my seat. Thinking back throughout our relationship, I don’t remember having that many conversations about disability, but she taught me how to accept myself in the process. One of my favorite memories of her didn’t include a protest or history lesson, but it was simply a card game involving friends. We wound up talking about growing up, as she just graduated from college, and she was wondering what her next move was going to be.
Long story short, she eventually moved to California, and unfortunately, I lost contact with her. Her work seemed to expand when she moved to the West Coast, including marching in many more protests and leading various speaking engagements to stand up for what’s right. Due to the current state of the country during this pandemic, her memorial was broadcast for two hours through a Zoom chat. It was heartwarming to witness how the people in Oakland embraced her, and she, in turn, embraced their community. I’ll miss her. She made an indelible impact on many advocates across the country and left us with a lot of advocating to do.
Let’s get to work.
That’s how I roll…