When Sophie Morgan, the newscaster, author and activist, was 18 and just weeks away from starting university, a car accident left her paralyzed from the chest down, and suddenly society-enforced limitations were everywhere.
It’s fair to say that Sophie doesn’t like restrictions – in fact, in the latest episode of My Body, My Story, she discusses how rejecting societal expectations of what she can do and what she wants to be is her own rebellious, rebellious act of self-love.
She also talks about why reforming air travel – something she is on a mission to do through her Rights On Flights campaign – is key to ensuring that people with disabilities have access to the freedom, joy and wonder that all human beings deserve.
When I look back at my life, I see that I was clinging to a previous identity, and it took me a long time to realize that I didn’t need that identity, that I could form my own identity, and then I realized that who I am now could be better, and as I let go of what made her happy and found what made me happy, life got better and better.
The “before” I’m talking about is before my injury. I was 18. I’m 38 now. In the summer of 2003, I had just finished my A-levels and left school. I was excited about life, what was to come, who I was going to be, what I was going to do. I had a hunger to live.
I got the grades, and I got good enough to get into the college of my choice. And that night, after the celebration party, I was driving down a country road with some friends back to the afterparty. There was no lighting on that road. I was driving like an inexperienced person, because I had no experience. And then, about two miles into the road from one party to the next, I lost control of my car. It flipped, crashed, rolled, spun, and fell into a field.
The force of the collision broke my cheekbone, fractured my skull, crushed my nose, broke my jaw, broke my collarbone, dislocated my spine and damaged my spinal cord. I was instantly paralyzed from the chest down.
I was in intensive care for three or four days. The doctors decided I wasn’t going to survive and sent me to London for spinal fusion and facial reconstruction surgery. At that point, I nearly lost consciousness. But miraculously, I survived.
I then spent 3-4 months in rehab. I quickly realized that because of the damage I had done, there was no chance I would ever walk again. So this wasn’t a journey of recovery, it was a journey of adapting to a body that would be in this state forever.
How Sophie found out she was paralyzed from the chest down
It took me a while to realize that I was numb, but once all the pain subsided and all the wounds on my upper body started to heal, I thought, “Wait a minute, I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had any reaction from my lower body.”
When the nurses came to tend to me I began to realise they had done something to my lower body that I couldn’t feel. I remained like that for a while and eventually asked what was going on and they said you will never walk again.
But what’s interesting is that everyone always thinks that the big deal is, “I’ll never walk again,” but that’s nothing compared to the other things that you have to learn to deal with afterwards.
The learning journey was pretty intense – learning the basics: how to get dressed, get into and use a wheelchair, drive a car, go to the toilet – I mean, everything – it was like being a baby again.
“My mother wasn’t afraid of disabilities, so I wasn’t afraid of them either.”
My mother was a huge contributor to my recovery. She never left my side and gave me a lot of strength. She gave me a lot of tenacity. She was a nurse so she knew and understood a lot about disabilities. She wasn’t afraid of them, so I wasn’t afraid of them.
I was hungry to live. I was only 18 and had so much to do. I was like: “Get out of my way! Don’t stop me from living!” Her positive attitude was a much-needed antidote to all the people who made me feel small and powerless with their words and actions.
What has helped and harmed Sophie in adapting to life with a physical disability?
“Oh, can I have a job? Can I live on my own? Can I drive a car?” Those were the kinds of questions I had. I didn’t know what I could and couldn’t do, but there was always this assumption that I couldn’t do something. “Oh, I can’t do that. She can’t go on trips. She can’t go out with her friends. She can’t drink alcohol!” That was always everywhere.
Coming out of the hospital, I had internalized a lot of ableism myself – I didn’t know what disabled people could do or be, so it didn’t take long for people to influence me the wrong way.
I was really hurt by the men in my life (I should probably say boys because that’s what they were then) who said really hurtful things to me like I wasn’t the girl I used to be, I wasn’t as sexy or attractive or fun as I used to be.
“My girlfriends were acting like idiots towards me, like they always do.”
And I felt really sad about that because, yes, my body had changed, but I still felt like I was the same person, but it was the attitude of my girlfriends that kept me on the right path.
They were just being ridiculous with me, like they always were. As soon as I got out of the hospital, we went out to a club. They picked me up and put me on the speakers…
It was so refreshing to not be wrapped in cotton and treated like a stranger. My friends helped me get back to where I needed to be and find myself and my identity again.
Why Air Travel Reform Matters for People with Disabilities
Before the accident, I was so blessed that I didn’t need to know my rights as a human being. I didn’t need to know what I could or couldn’t do.
And suddenly I had to know the laws, I had to know what I was capable of, I had to know how to apply those laws, which meant I had to become a lawyer overnight in order to represent myself.
Or maybe I just had to be incredibly articulate and advocate for myself and fight for everything I wanted, and basically that’s what I have done.
“Life is impossible if your mobility aid breaks or gets damaged.”
My campaign, Right to Fly, aims to help people with disabilities understand their rights when it comes to flying. It also looks at the different challenges disabled people face when flying and how we can make change, how we can work with the industry to make improvements and what we can do to work with the government to give us more protection.
This campaign started when my wheelchair, the most important piece of equipment I can live without, broke earlier this year. Since then, it has broken twice. This is not unusual. This is important. When your mobility aid breaks or is damaged, it is actually impossible to live your life. This is a serious disability and causes enormous distress to disabled travelers all over the world.
But that’s not all. There are many different shapes and nuances to why travel is truly inaccessible. Think about it: Most planes have aisles too narrow for a wheelchair to fit through, so the minute you reach the plane door you have to give up your wheelchair, which means giving up your free will, your independence, everything.
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You are transferred to an aisle chair, which doesn’t move on its own, so someone else – a total stranger – has to pull you to your seat, and then, if you are completely unable to stand or move without the wheelchair, that person has to come back and get the wheelchair when you want to go to the bathroom.
All of this has been an incredible obstacle, and all of the problems I faced the first time I flew after becoming disabled are still there today, 20 years later.
For Sophie, self-love means taking action.
There’s always this message for women in general that, “You need to tell yourself you’re enough” or “You’re enough.” There’s a lot of that positive messaging that we all need to make sure we absorb. But as a woman with a disability, I think it’s even more necessary because everywhere you go someone is going to tell you that you’re not enough.
Creating your own identity with a physical disability requires a lot of courage, tenacity and fighting spirit. You have to decide to do it yourself and not listen to what others tell you.
I always say, “Love your body no matter what,” but I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job of that. I think if you want to celebrate your body, don’t stop yourself from wanting to do extreme things. For example, if you want to ride a motorcycle, [then] Find a way to ride a modified bike. Challenge the limits of your body.
“I love raving and being welcomed by a crowd that isn’t judgemental.”
But this isn’t just an extreme challenge. I love to dance, in fact, I’m crazy about it, even if I have to tie my feet to a chair. Sometimes I even tie my feet with jumpers so that I don’t fall off when I jump. I’m very moved by the music.
I also love being welcomed into the crowd without prejudice. For a wheelchair user, some of the crowds can be really tricky and you’re like, “What are you doing here?” But some of the crowds are like, “Come on in! Come party!” And I love that.
I also love swimming. Swimming is probably the greatest release for me. I get the greatest freedom from swimming. I motivate people with paralysis a lot.
Sophie explains why overcoming fear is so powerful
If I live with physical, emotional and mental limitations that I can’t remove, then limiting myself further through fear and anxiety feels doubly disabling to me. That’s why I strive to overcome fear, from extreme physical challenges and adventures to my work.
In my work, I’ve taken some really big risks and jumped into areas I never thought I belonged in, like broadcasting the Paralympics live to millions of viewers.
I think it all stems from the stereotypes and clichés that people with disabilities are sometimes subjected to. I always want to ask: “Why?”
Why shouldn’t I do this? Why does that “rule” apply to me? Why can’t I make my own rules? Who told me that, who told me that: you? Me?
If it’s me, I need to get out of the way. If it’s you? Well, you definitely need to get out of my way.
Find out more about Sophie’s Right to Flight campaign here To read her full story, buy her memoir, Driving Forwards: A journey of resilience and empowerment after life-changing injury (£9.99, Little Brown).