As a Louisiana artist living with Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI), or Brittle Bone Disease, I’ve often reflected on a question I see frequently in chronic illness and disability communities: “Does your disability define you?” At first glance, it seems simple, but the more you unpack it, the more nuanced it becomes—especially when living with a condition that profoundly shapes your daily life.
The Gut Reaction
Most people with disabilities, myself included, have a knee-jerk reaction to this question: “No, of course not. My disability doesn’t define me. There’s so much more to who I am.” And that’s absolutely true.
For instance, I’m a watercolor artist based in New Orleans, and when people think of me, I want them to remember my creativity and accomplishments—not my wheelchair. Ideally, they’d say something like, “Katherine? Oh, she’s a talented artist whose work is featured in galleries and cherished by collectors worldwide.” (A girl can dream, right?)
The Reality of Living with a Disability
But here’s the truth: while I don’t want Osteogenesis Imperfecta to define me, it undeniably shapes every aspect of my life. As someone with Brittle Bone Disease, I’ve had to navigate life differently than most.
- Self-Advocacy: From a young age, I learned to advocate for myself—an essential skill that has influenced my ability to communicate, manage relationships, and run my own business.
- Adaptability: Living with a condition that can cause fractures from minimal impact means my life requires meticulous planning. Every outing, meal, and activity involves careful consideration of accessibility and support.
- Entrepreneurship: I became a business owner right out of college, not just out of passion, but necessity. Running my art business gave me the flexibility to work around my physical limitations.
- Perspective: My experiences have given me a unique outlook on life—one of gratitude, determination, and creativity.
Yes, and No
So, does my disability define me?
Yes. Living with OI influences every choice I make, from how I structure my days to how I approach my art. It has shaped certain personality traits, such as my need for organization and foresight, and it affects how I engage with the world.
But also, no. Many aspects of who I am—my love of music, my passion for watercolor painting, and my appreciation for life’s finer details—exist independently of my physical condition. I’d still have these loves and interests if I didn’t use a wheelchair or face the challenges of a chronic illness.
Embracing Both Sides
For me, the key lies in balance. I acknowledge that my disability is an integral part of my identity—it’s shaped my resilience and creativity as a disabled watercolor artist. At the same time, it doesn’t define the entirety of who I am. I’m a multifaceted person with passions, dreams, and talents that extend far beyond my wheelchair.
When you live with a physical difference, it’s unrealistic to say you’ve completely “overcome” it or that it doesn’t “define” you at all. Instead, it’s more accurate to say that you live your life with your disability. It influences how you navigate the world, but it doesn’t limit your ability to participate, achieve, or thrive.
Art as Empowerment in Disability
As a New Orleans artist with a chronic illness, my artwork has become a powerful tool for self-expression and connection. Through watercolor, I’ve built a career that allows me to share beauty, tell stories, and connect with people from all walks of life. My disability may have influenced my path as an artist, but it’s my talent, hard work, and passion that define my success.
Final Thoughts
To my fellow artists and those living with disabilities: embrace the complexities of your identity. Your disability is a part of your story, but it’s not the whole story. Whether you’re a disabled artist, an entrepreneur, or simply someone finding their way in the world, know that your experiences and perspective add value to everything you create and achieve.
So yes, Osteogenesis Imperfecta influences how I live and work, but as a disabled watercolor artist and proud Louisiana artist, I know my worth goes far beyond my condition. My art, my dreams, and my impact on the world define me far more than my wheelchair ever could.