Keisha Greaves is the founder of Girls Chronically Rock Clothing
Let me tell you about a moment that happens to me all the time. I’m sitting there. Wide awake. Fully aware. Listening. A person walks into the room, looks at my caregiver, and says: “So… what does she need?”
I’m right there. Not invisible. Not sleeping. Not unable to answer. Just… skipped.
If you’re disabled, you know this moment instantly. If you’re not, you’ve probably seen it and didn’t realize what was actually happening. This is what it looks like when people don’t presume competence. And it’s one of the most common, subtle, exhausting forms of disability stigma that no one talks about enough.
The Assumption No One Admits They’re Making
Here’s the quiet assumption happening in that moment: If she has a caregiver, she must not be able to speak for herself. Nobody says it out loud. But it’s there.
Because the script people follow is almost automatic:
Notice wheelchair
Notice caregiver
Speak to caregiver
It’s like people’s brains decide, “That’s the person in charge.” Meanwhile, I’m sitting there like… “Hi? I exist?”
Needing Physical Help Does Not Equal Mental Inability
I have muscular dystrophy. I use a wheelchair. I have PCA support. That means I need help physically. That’s it.
It doesn’t mean I can’t:
Think
Speak
Decide
Lead
Run organizations
Advocate for myself
Answer your question
But the second people see assistance, they quietly downgrade the person receiving it. That’s stigma. And it’s deeply wired into society.
Restaurants are a masterclass in this. I go out to eat. The server walks up. They look at my caregiver and say: “What does she want to drink?” My caregiver looks at me. I answer. The server nods at my caregiver and writes it down. This happens so often it’s almost comical. Except it’s not funny when it’s your daily reality. It’s like I’m the background character in my own dinner.
This also happens in medical settings with doctors. You would think medical professionals would be the best at this. They are often the worst. I’ve had doctors ask my PCA about my symptoms. I’ve had nurses ask my PCA about my pain. I’ve had providers explain my own body to someone who does not live in it. And I’m sitting there thinking, “You can literally ask me.”
That’s not just annoying. That’s dangerous. Because it reinforces the idea that disabled people don’t have authority over their own bodies.
The Emotional Part People Don’t See
This may sound small if you’ve never experienced it. But imagine being talked around like this: All day. Every day. In every space. You start to feel like furniture in your own life. Present. But not acknowledged. You get tired of saying:
“You can ask me.”
“I’m right here.”
“I can answer that.”
You shouldn’t have to fight to be included in conversations about yourself.
Most PCAs get it. They’ll say, “You can ask Keisha.” They become educators because they see how often this happens. And honestly? It shouldn’t be their job. Or mine.
This lack of direct communication doesn’t just happen at restaurants and doctor’s offices. It happens in professional spaces too. It happens in meetings. Networking events. Panels. Business conversations. People will ask my assistant questions about my own organization. People assume the person standing next to me is “in charge.” Meanwhile, I built the thing they’re asking about.
This is how disabled professionals get underestimated before they even speak.
Why People Do This (Without Meaning To)
Most people are not trying to be disrespectful. They’re uncomfortable. They don’t know how to “navigate” disability. So they default to the person who looks able-bodied. It feels easier for them.
But that “ease” comes at the cost of our dignity.
The fix, however, is almost embarrassingly simple.
Here is the rule: Talk to the person first. Always.
Even if:
They take time to respond
They communicate differently
They use assistive devices
They have staff with them
Start with them. If they need help answering, they will tell you.
What It Feels Like When Someone Gets It Right
When someone walks up and says: “Hi Keisha, how are you?” It feels… normal. Respectful. Human.
When a doctor asks me directly how I’m feeling. When a server asks me what I’d like. When someone looks me in the eye and speaks to me like anyone else. It shouldn’t feel special. But it does. Because it’s rare.
This is bigger than manners. This is about how society sees disabled people. As dependent. Childlike. Managed. Cared for. Instead of capable. Intelligent. Autonomous. Human.
Presuming competence challenges all of that in one simple action: speaking directly to us.
A Quiet Form of Erasure
No one is yelling. No one is being openly cruel. They just… remove you from your own interactions. And that quiet erasure builds up over time in a way people without disabilities never have to think about.
If you see a disabled person with a caregiver, assistant, interpreter, or PCA: Talk to the disabled person first. Not because it’s polite. Because it’s right. Because it affirms dignity. Because it challenges stigma. Because it presumes competence.
The honest truth is that I don’t need you to be extra careful. I don’t need pity. I don’t need special treatment. I just need you to see me. And the easiest way to do that? When you walk up to me…Say hi to me first.
The post Presume My Competence: Please Talk to Me, Not Around Me appeared first on Northeast Arc.