Emily Ladau - Words I Wheel By

The Best Chair Exercise Videos

Posted on April 7, 2020August 12, 2021 by Emily Ladau

Years ago, as I was growing into a stronger sense of disability identity and gaining a deeper understanding of ableism, I read an article that scared me out of my mind. Dr. James Levine, a Mayo Clinic endocrinologist, sounded the alarm on sitting: “There’s a glob of information that sitting is killing us…You’re basically sitting yourself into a coffin.” I know the science is real about how sitting too much poses health risks, but I’m tired of being told my wheelchair is just a ticket to an early grave. Articles on potential health problems caused by sitting almost always focus on solutions suited to people without mobility limitations. Rarely do I see detailed fitness resources for people who sit on the regular (like me), so I’m going to share a round up of my favorite free chair exercise videos.

Keep in mind that just because the exercises are done a certain way in these videos, nothing is set in stone. Adapt as needed. Also, note that some of these require inexpensive exercise equipment like resistance bands or dumbbells. And these videos aren’t just for wheelchair users. Seated exercise can be ideal for people at any fitness level. Especially now that we’re in the midst of a pandemic and going to the gym isn’t an option, I hope these videos help you start or shake up your exercise routine.

Most importantly, be gentle with yourself. Don’t pressure yourself to exercise. Do what feels right for you and your body.

(Disclaimer: I’ll be honest…some of the disability-related language in these videos isn’t great, but I’m trying to include a wide range of options.)

1) If you want a good kick in the butt, Caroline Jordan is your girl. Her upbeat attitude makes me feel like I have a personal trainer in my living room. Click here for her full playlist of chair workouts.

2) Pahla Bowers is super down-to-earth and relatable, which makes her workouts enjoyable, even though they’re tiring. Click here for her full playlist of chair workouts.

3) SparkPeople’s videos are short and sweet, and Coach Nicole is really easy to follow.
– Seated Cardio Workout: Burn Calories Exercising from a Chair
– Seated Abs Workout: Chair Exercises for Your Core
– Seated Upper Body Toning Workout: Chair Strength Training Exercises
– Resistance Band Workout

4) KymNonStop is a barrel of energy and her running commentary keeps me entertained while I’m working out.
– Intense Seated Workout
– Seated Cardio Boxing Workout
– Cardio & Core Seated Workout
– Seated Circuit Workout
– Challenging Seated Workout

5) HASfit offers videos that demonstrate workouts for varied abilities, including some that show seated and standing variations of the same exercises.
– Chair Exercises Sitting Down Workout
– Standing & Seated Exercise

6) Chair Workouts with Donovan Green are power-packed and totally energizing. Click here for his full playlist of chair workouts.

7) Jessica Smith’s chair exercise videos make you feel like you’re on a gym date with a friend.
– Chair Workout I + II (seated cardio, strength, fat burning low impact exercise)
– Chair Stretch (quick stretch, seated exercise)
– Seated Exercises for Abs, Legs, Arms

8) Fuzion Fitness with Alexis is great for anyone looking for a slightly more relaxed workout. Plenty of good vibes in the background music.
– Chair Workout #1
– Chair Workout #2

9) Fair warning: Paul Eugene’s videos can come across as overly enthusiastic, but they’re secretly kind of fun.
– Turbo Chair Workout
– Sit and Get Fit

10) Lucy Wyndham-Read’s video style is helpful because she puts a description of each set of reps on the screen and also gives you previews of what moves are coming up next. Click here for her full playlist of chair workouts.

11) If you’re in the mood for a good 1980’s workout routine, Lisa Ericson has you covered.
– Seated Aerobic Workout

12) Adapt to Perform’s YouTube channel is a goldmine of workout videos from Ben Clark, who is a wheelchair user. Click here to check out his channel.

Any good chair exercise videos that I missed in this list? Or do you have other ways that you like to adapt exercise routines? Share so we can keep moving!

The Americans with Disabilities Act just turned 28 and I have some thoughts about it.

Posted on July 26, 2018August 12, 2021 by Emily Ladau

Every year, when the anniversary of the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) rolls around, I find myself wondering how much further the Disability Rights movement has come in the years since the elder President Bush signed it into law.

These days, activists seem to be playing a game of whack-a-mole, trying to smack down each move the current administration makes to pull civil and human rights from the grasp of the disability community.

But as satisfying as it may be to direct so much righteous anger toward the people in power, I’ve had to admit to myself that the Trump regime is far from the main responsible party for the access barriers and discrimination disabled people encounter daily. Sure, it’s arguably worse overall as of late, and the government could and should be making efforts to fix issues instead of contributing to them. The reality, though, is that the disability community has been fighting the good fight for years, and no political party, corporation, or public system has fully risen to the occasion.

Yes, we’ve made so much progress. I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that. And I’ve heard my generation called out time and again for taking that progress for granted, for not knowing how good we have it. I know I’ve got it pretty good. I’m full of endless admiration and gratitude toward the activists who got us to where we are today. But in so many ways, this world is exactly the same as it was 28 years ago when President Bush called for “the shameful walls of exclusion [to] finally come tumbling down.” Those walls are still up in full force, and try though we do, we cannot simply legislate them away.

Because that’s what the ADA was intended to do. It was intended to put an end to the stigma and the obstacles and the exclusion. It was a law meant to be on our side.

But where were the mighty protections of the ADA when a broken elevator trapped me underground on a subway platform in Union Square and there were no nearby wheelchair accessible stops? It wasn’t the ADA that lifted me and my wheelchair up the stairs; it was six NYC firefighters.

And where were the protections of the ADA when, for at least the 15th time, a hotel gave away the wheelchair accessible room I reserved? It wasn’t the ADA that fixed the problem; it was my advocacy and fury. The same advocacy and fury that, when unleashed en masse, led to the passage of the ADA 28 years ago. I thought the point of the ADA was to relieve this unending need to fight.

Where were the protections of the ADA when I couldn’t find an accessible parking spot for the zillionth time while out and about running errands?

And where have the protections of the ADA been every time I’ve had stares and comments and insults about my disability rip through me? Where has the spirit of the ADA been within society? The spirit of inclusion, equality, humanity? Truth be told, I don’t think it’s sunk in yet, nearly three decades later.

So here we are, in a world that is technically post-ADA, but feels so very stagnant – and in many ways, so very regressive. For this, we can decisively point fingers at current legislators on both sides of the aisle who lent support to the grossly misnamed “ADA Education and Reform Act of 2017.” There’s no doubt people (namely business-owners and lawmakers) are working as tirelessly right now to dismantle disability rights as activists are to maintain and expand them. But the odds are doubly stacked against the disability community as we’re fighting to hang on to rights that haven’t been fully acknowledged in the first place.

You’re probably thinking I’ve just written the pessimistic activist’s manifesto. I get it. No one wants to hear a bitter disabled person’s laments – especially not on the one day of the year I should literally be celebrating 28 years of civil rights. But here’s the thing: activism is cyclical and often leaves us feeling defeated, and it’s 100% okay to recognize that truth. In fact, I’d say it’s actually healthy to be honest about what we’re up against. You know why? Because it stokes the fires of passion and fury that keep us going when the going gets tough. And the going will continue to be tough in the years to come, to be sure. But I can say with a full heart and sincere optimism that the disability community I’ve come to know and love is empowered and ready to continue walking and rolling through the flames.

Start Your Own Website

Posted on December 22, 2017September 10, 2021 by Emily Ladau

Without a doubt, the most common question I’m asked about Words I Wheel By is “how did you get started?” I think there’s a common misconception that starting a blog or creating a website is a difficult process, but it doesn’t have to be! If you want to share your words and your passions, I’m 100% behind you. Here’s the path I followed:

I started out by making a free WordPress.com blog: emilyladau.wordpress.com. This is a great option for beginners, because you can decide if blogging is something you’d like to do long-term before making a financial investment. Plus, doing it this way, you won’t have to worry about coding, designs, or any major maintenance on the back-end of your site.

Red arrow points to free tier of WordPress.com service

Once I realized I was serious about maintaining a website to publish my writing, I decided to buy a domain name (in my case, the URL wordsiwheelby.com). If you have a domain name in mind, I recommend buying it now, even if you’re not ready to use it. The internet moves fast, and someone else could snap up your great URL idea if they haven’t already. Most domain names are pretty inexpensive. I pay just over $10 a year for mine. And be sure to use a reputable company! I use Namecheap.

Domain Name Search. Text in search box reads "YourSuperCoolOriginalDomainHere.com"

In order to use my domain name, I needed to invest in hosting. In simple terms: using a free platform like WordPress.com means they host your site for you on their servers and handle all the technical aspects of setting it up, so they control all the files that make up your site. When you purchase hosting, you have control over your website.

In the interest of saving money, I jumped on a deal with a hosting platform I’d never heard of without doing any research about self-hosting or which companies are legitimate. DO NOT DO THIS! I only ended up wasting money, along with lots and lots of time dealing with nearly non-existent “customer service.”

But I get that it’s sensible to avoid spending too much when you’re just starting out. The good news is that there are plenty of very reputable hosting services that won’t require you to empty your bank account. Luckily, I realized I should start using a better service relatively early on in my hosting adventures.

Finally, I registered with a web hosting company.

I still wanted to use WordPress so I could transfer over the posts I’d already written. I chose a host that allowed me to do that. There was definitely a learning curve for site management, but it’s up to you how much work you want to put in to set-up and design. You can edit, tweak, and customize your website to your heart’s content!

Since then, I’ve kept right on writing. And now, it’s your turn to get started.

Want to get in touch with your artsy side? One of the fun parts of having a website is being able to design your own graphics to accompany posts and pages, which you can do whether you’ve got a free site or you self-host. For making custom graphics, I use PicMonkey or Canva – not as intense as Photoshop, but still offers lots of ways to get creative.

Disclaimers: Keep in mind, I’m not a professional web designer or developer. These are the steps that successfully worked for me, and I hope this answers some of your questions on how to start your own website.

Is the Restroom Accessible? That’s Up in the Air

Posted on December 7, 2017August 12, 2021 by Emily Ladau

When you’re getting ready to go on a flight, what’s on your last-minute to-do list? Mine looks a little something like this:

Make sure I packed enough underwear
Charge my Kindle
Start limiting the amount of liquid I drink

Does that last one seem a little strange to you? Well, for wheelchair users who are unable to get up and walk (like yours truly), limiting what we drink before flight is often the norm, because there’s simply no way for us to access the restrooms aboard a plane.

But bathrooms are something most people take for granted, and so they drink to their hearts’ content before and during a fight. Most people simply can’t imagine not having access to a place to relieve themselves wherever they go. And for that reason, I’m not all that surprised by a report that a Delta flight from New York City to Seattle had to go hundreds of miles out of its way to make an emergency pit stop just because the plane’s toilets were broken and people had to go right now.

Let me tell you something: I just took a flight from New York City to Seattle a few months ago. Heck, I’ve flown from New York City to Israel. And you know what I had to do on those flights, and every other flight I’ve ever been on? Hold it. I’ve gone without peeing for upwards of 14 hours so I could travel.

On the flights where I’ve found myself needing to use the restroom in spite of my valiant efforts to avoid drinking anything, the only solution was to meditate and deal with it. Seriously. No way would a pilot divert a flight because I needed to “find relief of built-up pressures.”

Once, during a flight home from Minneapolis, I had the misfortune of experiencing motion sickness. Fair warning: what I’m about to say may not be fun to read if you’re easily made to feel queasy.

I asked the flight attendant for a motion sickness bag, but she didn’t take my request seriously and took her sweet time getting it. Since I couldn’t get up to go to the restroom, I got sick all over myself. And then, you know what happened? My dignity took a nosedive and I had to change out of my vomit covered clothes in the middle of the airplane while the flight attendant who didn’t get me the paper bag in time held up a blanket to try to give me a modicum of privacy.

Why am I telling you all this? To highlight what it’s like to be disabled in a world designed by people who don’t take you into account.

I spend my life (not an exaggeration) strategizing every move, big or small. From researching if I’ll be able to get into the new restaurant a friend suggests for dinner, to deciding if I should stay on a long sidewalk in the hopes there’s a curb cut at the other end, to figuring out when I’ll next be near a restroom I can actually use––everything requires planning.

Of course, it’s possible that people on the Delta flight had other types of disabilities, chronic conditions, or age-related bladder or bowel issues, so yes, I get why the plane landed, but the world sure doesn’t accommodate me with emergency landings.

But there are laws to make things accessible, you might say. True. The Americans with Disabilities Act was passed over 27 years ago to prohibit discrimination and provide access for disabled people in all areas of public life, but even with amendments to update the law, inaccessibility is still everywhere. The Air Carrier Access Act (which significantly fewer people know exists, including, seemingly, airline personnel) was passed nearly 32 years ago, with the intent of ensuring the disability community has access to air travel. Yet, though it’s since been amended, the law still allows for aircraft with only one aisle to have inaccessible restrooms. These types of planes, known as narrow-body planes, are used by commercial airlines pretty darn frequently.

Even so, I need to travel for work. I have to go places in order to go about my day. I have the right to be an active member of my community.

I could wrap up with a broad, sweeping call to action to improve upon accessibility everywhere, from storefronts to airplanes, but I believe this kind of change won’t happen without recognition of just how easy it is to take access for granted.

I admit that I roll my eyes when people who break their leg or have surgery that temporarily impacts their mobility tell me they “get” what I “go through” every day, but there’s still a lesson to be learned from these comments: the ability to access wherever you please doesn’t matter to people, until one day it does. Anyone can become disabled at any time.

That may sound intimidating, but think about it: if you became disabled tomorrow, wouldn’t you want to live in a world where you had access to basic things like restrooms anywhere you go? People don’t think about the possibility of not being able to use the restroom until access to this basic need is taken away from them, just like the situation on the Delta flight.

It shouldn’t have to be this way. Full bladders should not inhibit full participation in society for the disability community.

“There’s No Room For You Here.” – On Encountering Discrimination

Posted on August 29, 2016August 12, 2021 by Emily Ladau

I have a little tradition to search for handmade jewelry when I travel, usually rings or earrings. It’s my favorite way to bring home a piece of where I’ve been. Since I just visited New Mexico for the first time to join my family in celebrating my cousin’s wedding, I was especially excited to see what I’d find because I love southwestern jewelry designs. My mom (who also uses a wheelchair), my dad, and I ventured to Old Town in Albuquerque one afternoon to look around and when we reached the first shop, Native Gallery, I was immediately drawn to rows of earrings and beautiful pottery.

Not even 10 seconds after entering the shop, I gravitated toward some rainbow bowls in the front of the store and was already contemplating buying one when the shopkeeper came over to my family and said “there’s no room for you here.”

Mind you, the aisles were a bit narrow but I have the depth perception to know my wheelchair would fit through and the common sense not to drive like a wild woman through a store full of valuable breakables. There was undeniably room for us. So, I began to explain that we were fine and would be very careful, but the shopkeeper again insisted there was “no room” for us and demanded we leave.

My dad, who was standing up and is obviously taller than me, could plainly see the shopkeeper was lying about the lack of space. In fact, aside from the one couple he was ringing up, there wasn’t a single other customer in the store. There was plenty of room. Based on the look of horror on the shopkeeper’s face when he saw two wheelchair users roll through the entrance, the urgency with which he jumped up to ask us to leave, and his persistent arguing that we couldn’t stay, it was clear he just didn’t want us to patronize his shop, or assumed we’d cause damage, and so he thought it best to kick us out rather than finding a way to accommodate us.

I sort of get it, maybe. Power wheelchairs in a store full of fragile pottery are risky and the shopkeeper wanted to protect his goods, but the reality is that anyone could accidentally break something. At the very least, he could’ve offered to bring some pieces to the front for us. But no matter how many times we pointed out that turning disabled people away from your public business is discriminatory and illegal, the shopkeeper ultimately forced us away.

I just wanted to buy a ring. I wanted a taste of what New Mexico has to offer. I wanted to enjoy the late afternoon sun and the colorful boutiques with my parents. I love exploring new places. Yet it seems every time I try to embrace my independence like any other human being, someone stops me in my tracks and reminds me that disabled people are still not fully welcome in this world we inhabit.

In most cases, it’s structural barriers that prove unwelcoming. Steps and narrow entryways are warning signs to stay away. Because of this, I’m generally inclined to give my business to places where the architecture isn’t keeping me out. Of course, there are plenty of instances where I take one look at a place and can tell there’s no way I will actually be able to navigate safely or easily. But I have learned to make my way around in environments not designed with accessibility in mind. I have learned how to weave through curves and make sharp turns, how to roll forward at just the right angle and slip through tight spaces. Within the realms of accessibility, where I go is my decision to make.

And so, even as the sting of this encounter flowed through me, I was still determined to find a ring. We went to a shop around the block called de Colores Galleria. There, the owner was lovely, accommodating my mom and I as we narrowed down our jewelry options, never making us feel as though we were unwelcome or in the way.

While she helped us, my mom shared with the woman behind the jewelry counter what had happened at the other shop. The woman was mortified, apologizing on behalf of Old Town. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “That’s not good for Old Town. And that’s not good for you.” We appreciated that, and thanked her profusely for her hospitality before we left.

My mom and I felt compelled to thank the second shopkeeper because her kindness was such a refreshing change from our first encounter. That said, we were essentially thanking this woman for treating us like people. It’s a painful reality of my existence that I find myself expressing gratitude when people communicate with me in such a way that shows they see me as deserving of equality and respect.

As I sat down to recount this shopping debacle in writing, my stomach tightened at the thought that issues such as this – the ones I so desperately wish to see eliminated – are the ones on which I’ve built a platform and a career. The frequency with which I experience and write about ableism has become a twisted form of job security, because deep down I know I will never run out of stories to share. And yet, what I would give for an end to the writing fodder, as it would mean a world finally without encountering discrimination.

I am tired of the days when simple moments of enjoying life are shattered by someone else’s lack of understanding and acceptance. I am a tireless activist, but I am still tired.

I kept the ring that I picked from the second shop on my finger as I wrote this. It now has a place as one of the most bittersweet pieces in my collection, but I treasure it. I will wear it with joy not only because it is a reminder to keep up the fight even when I feel defeated, but also because of the other memories it holds: eating raspberries straight from the bush in my family’s backyard, the hazy mountain view surrounding us, twirling around the dance floor with my dad at my cousin’s wedding, peering out of a tram with my family as it reached 10,378 feet, and – most beautiful of all – being with people I love, who love me, and who welcome and accept me as I am.

A Letter to My Younger Self in Honor of International Women’s Day

Posted on March 8, 2016August 12, 2021 by Emily Ladau

Shortly after my first love and I broke up in 2013, I wrote a letter to my younger self. At the time, I intended to bury it away somewhere to be forgotten, as it was just meant to be a private way to help myself heal. But every couple months or so, I’ve found myself pulling up the letter again on my computer, reading it over, adding to it, finding comfort in it.

In 2015, I learned about #DearMe, an empowerment campaign in honor of International Women’s Day that encouraged women to write a letter with advice to they needed to hear when they were younger. So, I pulled my letter out of hiding and put it out into the world. Now that International Women’s Day has come around in 2016, I feel it’s time to dust off my letter once again.

This letter will never be finished. Each year, as I grow older, I plan to read and reread, write and rewrite, hopefully building on what I want 15-year-old Emily to know. And while this letter is deeply personal to me, and I’m specifically sharing it for International Women’s Day, it is my hope that no matter what age you may be or how you identify, these words will resonate with you, reminding you that you are always enough and never alone.

Dear Me (15-year-old Emily),

I know how your eyes scan the room every time you go somewhere new, wondering if today will be the day your gaze settles upon a guy who just might accept you for who you are. I know how you lay awake at night envisioning what the future might be like, if only a guy could accept your disabled body. I know how you think that day will never come.

But the day will come when someone will accept you. He will tell you that you are the most beautiful girl in the world. He will tell you that you can trust him. He will tell you he loves you.

And he will be a wheelchair user too. I know that’s not an option you’ve been considering, but I promise when you open your mind to him, you will feel like he can relate to you in ways no one has ever understood you before.

Then he will leave you. He will break your heart and break your trust instead of breaking your fall. And it will hurt in ways you never imagined.

Don’t let him be the source of your self-worth. For that matter, don’t let anyone be the source of your self-worth. You’ll face rejection for being disabled and you’ll face rejection for being the girl you are. When you’re met with discrimination or a lack of acceptance, don’t just sit there and take it.

Learn to love yourself for all that you are. Gain strength that will be there to keep you going even when life shoots you down. That cannot come from outside you. It will only come from within.

I know these sound like words in the self-help books that made you roll your eyes and laugh as you pulled them from bookstore shelves. Quit laughing and start listening. It will save you a lot of pain in the years down the road.

Please, don’t give any of yourself away before you accept yourself. Learn to embrace your disability as another part of what makes you, you. Learn that just because you’ve got a body with scars and curves and a wheelchair attached to your butt, does not mean you’re not beautiful just as you are – your brain, your body, every part of you.

I won’t lie to you: Life as a disabled woman will continue challenging you to the core at times. Know that even in the hardest moments, you have so much to offer the world. Stop doubting yourself. More importantly, stop believing that you will only be validated and whole when someone looks at you with romance in his eyes.

Remember the pain of heartbreak is an experience not limited to the disabled world, nor is the joy of reaching your dreams. If there’s a day, a week, or a month when it feels like you just don’t fit and nothing is right and everything is wrong, know that you are far from alone in this world.

Focus on finding joy in who you are, on finding your way to a career path that will both fulfill your dreams and give you the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives. Remember how capable you are, no matter what message society may send. When it feels like you’ve been left out of nondisabled life, never forget that your life is no less valid.

I promise write to you again in a few years as I work to gain self-worth, self-acceptance, and pride in being a disabled woman that I wish you’d fight harder for now. But in the mean time, hang in there. You’re going to become stronger than you thought possible, and you’re going to be alright.

Love you always,
24-year-old Emily