Quinn leaned her walking poles against the wall by their table, the faint scrape of rubber tips on brick cutting through the silence. It was a gesture she had performed many times before—familiar, grounding, and subtly marking her space.
As the poles settled into place, so did Quinn. She adjusted the chair with a small shift and folded herself into the rhythm of the restaurant around her. The hum of conversation and clatter of dishes swirled in the background. The occasional glance lingered, a quiet reminder of the way others sometimes regarded her.
Across from her, Stephen scanned the menu, his gaze relaxed and thoughtful. “Everything looks great,” he said. “What are you leaning toward?”
Quinn glanced at the pasta section, her thoughts briefly interrupted by the rhythmic clinking of silverware. “Maybe pasta. I’m not sure yet. What about you?”
“Steak, as always.” Stephen chuckled, the familiarity of his choice lighting up his face. “Guess it’s become a tradition at this point.”
She nodded, her attention briefly drifting to a nearby table where she felt the faint pull of someone’s gaze. Instead of looking away, she held Stephen’s eyes, grounding herself in their shared space.
Stephen tapped the menu, his finger drawing her focus back. “Do you want to split an appetizer? Bruschetta?”
“Perfect,” she replied.
The server arrived with the hurried pace of the evening rush. He greeted Stephen with a smile, his gaze briefly skimming past Quinn before returning to him. It was a small gesture, one Quinn recognized—a quiet shift that subtly positioned her on the periphery.
It was familiar, almost automatic—a signal that she wasn’t the one being directly acknowledged, a subtle reminder of the spaces others sometimes assume she occupies. However, Quinn had learned to read these moments without letting them define her. She met the server’s eyes and offered a composed nod.
“You asked what we would like to drink? I’ll have water with extra ice, please.” Her voice was steady, unshaken. In that instant, she recognized the shift—an acknowledgment of her, not just her words. The waiter held her gaze before he nodded and moved on, his smile polite, his attention already shifting elsewhere.
In that brief exchange, Quinn realized she had done it again—asserted her presence. It was a decision she made often and freely, rooted in self-assurance. Amanda Leduc (2020) describes the action of “claiming space”—asserting one’s place without seeking permission, of being present on one’s own terms.
For Quinn, it wasn’t about waiting for others to make room for her. It was about choosing her presence, firmly planted, regardless of who noticed. Stephen’s small nod affirmed that unspoken understanding. Stephen wasn’t there to make space for her; he was there to share the space they both occupied. Together, they settled into the moment, the occasional glances from nearby tables fading into the background.
That night, Quinn noticed a subtle change in how others regarded her. The glances that once felt burdened with judgment now seemed lighter, almost curious. It was as though they were starting to see her not as an outsider, but as someone whose place had quietly shifted. She no longer felt the need to navigate their gaze. Instead, she moved through it, with a quiet confidence.
Her brief exchange with the server lingered in her mind, a reminder that asserting her presence was as much a choice as it was an act. In that moment, Quinn felt the quiet strength of her own presence—occupying space without apology. As Tom Shakespeare (2022) wrote, it wasn’t about being “let in,” but about showing up and occupying space on her own terms.
As they walked out of the restaurant, Quinn felt a wave of confidence settle within her. She had claimed her place, quietly asserting her presence without needing affirmation. With each step, a deeper understanding took root, reminding her that her presence was enough in itself.
In that moment, Quinn had claimed her place—not just at the table, but in a world still learning to make room for every presence. How many others are still waiting for the chance to stand firmly in their own space?
References
- Garland-Thomson, R. (2009). Staring: How We Look. Oxford University Press.
- Leduc, A. (2020). Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space. Coach House Books.
- Shakespeare, T. (2022). Disability: The Basics. Routledge.
- Wong, A. (Ed.). (2020). Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century. Vintage.
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