Sitting Pretty: The View from My Ordinary Resilient Disabled Body

I have a slight disclaimer for this review. I had to enjoy Sitting Pretty in very small doses, a chapter or less at a time. However, that’s for a good reason. Like Rebekah, I have a disability–well, disabilities if you want to get technical. I have cerebral palsy and Asperger’s. Both are mild, but both have impacted my life enough, and kept me out of enough arenas, that being disabled could hurt like mad. It’s never been something I thought of as part of my identity–at least, a good part of it. The essays in Sitting Pretty resonated with me so much, so hard, that I often found myself feeling intense emotions I had to keep back.

With that said, I am unbelievably glad I found Sitting Pretty. First of all, even in the #ownvoices movement, disability still doesn’t have enough voices, so kudos on that alone. But Rebekah’s voice is one of the best I could’ve found. She’s relatable, fresh, funny, and in general, someone you want to spend time with. She writes with honesty about the hard parts of disability, such as dealing with direct and soft bigotry or just the hassles of everyday life (ex.: crawling rather than wheeling because well, modifications weren’t there).

Additionally, I loved how Rebekah juxtaposed disability with the rest of her journey, such as growing up with siblings “like a box of puppies,” getting married and divorced, and married again. Yes! This is what every woman on earth wants to do, wants to write or talk about, wants to be shown doing. With Sitting Pretty, the narrative is not, “I’m disabled BUT I still do everything you do.” It’s, “I’m disabled AND I do everything you do plus more–and “more” is related to a brilliant identity that not everyone else has, which is cool.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever 100% embrace disability as a positive part of me. There’s still a lot of internalized ableism, external ableism, shame, and self-doubt to deal with, among other things. But Sitting Pretty gave me a huge dose of encouragement, just because there are other women like me out there and we are living our lives. Moreover, we can, and should be given the opportunity to, live our lives to the fullest, in any body we have. Thanks again, Rebekah!

Not only is this book beautifully written and highly enjoyable, but it is eye-opening and thought-provoking as well. We are all challenged to figure out how to make our spaces and our communities more accessible and inviting to those who dont automatically get a seat at the table. I was challenged by this book in a good way. I also really enjoyed Rebekahs writing style. By the end of the book you feel like shes your friend- a friend you just cant wait to have coffee with. Definitely a must read for everyone.

Especially you typically-abled. If only to develop some true empathy (Not sympathy!) As a nurse who worked with profoundly developmentally disabled people for years, I’ve been slightly more aware of the challenges faced by the disabled than others with a different work background (“I’d better tell someone to move those boxes away from the automatic door button, someone in a wheelchair will never be able to reach it…”) But this book has opened my eyes even more widely. I plan to recommend it to everyone know.

This book is beautifully written, and invites us all to look more closely at ourselves and the world around us. I know I personally have been changed by Rebekahs words. A compelling and poignant piece of writing I will never forget!!

A beautifully crafted, complex, and nuanced memoir on disability. Rebeccas story is beautifully written and brilliantly contextualized within the framework of the social model of disability. An important reminder of why the conversation around disability, which is often neglected, needs to be brought to the forefront of the social justice movement.

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