Every July 26, we celebrate the anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), a landmark piece of legislation that has opened doors for millions of Americans. For me, the ADA isn't just a law—it's a reminder that access, dignity, and opportunity matter. It also reminds me that living with a limb difference has often meant living somewhere in between.

When I was about 15 years old on Kauaʻi, I applied for county programs that supported people with disabilities. I remember the clerk looking at me and kindly saying, "You can use your brain. You can work in a regular job." Because I was considered capable of working, I didn't qualify for those programs or disability compensation. At the time, I didn't fully understand what that meant. Looking back, I realize it was both encouraging and challenging. Someone saw my potential, but there was little recognition that I might still need support navigating a world that wasn't always designed for me.

Instead, I went to work. One of my first jobs was at the Pacific Missile Range Facility; where I served as the assistant to the assistant to the Commanding Officer. It was there that I learned one of the greatest lessons of my career: take pride in your work. My supervisor was incredibly organized, thoughtful, and professional. She believed that with hard work and dedication, I could succeed at any job. That belief stayed with me and helped shape how I approach every opportunity—as a coach, trainer, speaker, and business owner.

Years later, I still find myself living in that space between independence and accommodation. One of the few benefits I use is my disability parking placard. Even then, there are days when every accessible parking stall is already taken. During one renewal at the DMV, I was asked to provide proof of my disability. I jokingly suggested they could simply take a picture of me—I was born without my left leg. The people in line at the DMV around me looked just as confused as I was. Eventually, I asked my physician for the required documentation, and even she smiled with a puzzled expression. The paperwork wasn't difficult; it was the reminder that sometimes the obvious still needs to be proven.

For much of my life, I've felt like I was balancing two realities. On one hand, I've worked hard to demonstrate what I'm capable of accomplishing. On the other, I've had to advocate for understanding that having a limb difference doesn't mean I don't occasionally need accommodations. Those two truths can exist together. Independence and support are not opposites—they're partners.

One of the things I appreciate most about the ADA today is that it recognizes the incredible diversity within the disability community. Disability doesn't look just one way.https://adaanniversary.org/themes/july/#flag-disability-pride

The Disability Pride Flag reflects that beautifully:

• Red represents physical disabilities.

• Gold represents neurodiversity.

• White represents invisible disabilities and undiagnosed conditions.

• Blue represents emotional and psychiatric disabilities.

• Green represents sensory disabilities, including deafness, blindness, and other sensory disabilities.

• The faded black background acknowledges mourning and the ongoing impact of ableism and discrimination experienced by many within the disability community.

As a Brain Health Coach, communication coach, and conflict resolution practitioner, I've come to realize that every person carries something others may not see. Some differences are visible. Others are hidden. All deserve dignity.

The ADA is more than a law—it is an invitation to create workplaces, schools, and communities where people are valued for their strengths and supported in the ways they need. That's the kind of world I want to help build.