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  One of my favorite pastimes is getting my mother Saba to laugh. She’s standing outside my father’s home in Addis Ababa with one of her dazzling smiles. She has a translucent grey scarf around her shoulders, and her sunglasses sparkle in the sun. Behind her is a paved path lined with vibrant green shrubbery and red flowers. Copyright Girma Family Collection.

  Grandmother Awiye smiles warmly as she faces the camera. A white scarf called a netsela is draped around her head and shoulders. Copyright Girma Family Collection.

  Eritrea is located in Northeast Africa with Ethiopia to the south, Sudan to the north, the Red Sea along the northeast, and Djibouti to the east. My mother rode a bus from Asmara to a nearby village called Halhale, then walked about 320 km (203 miles) west to Kassala, Sudan. She walked barefoot for most of the three-week trip. This map is derived from a map created by the United Nations.

  Seven-year-old me clung to my dad like Velcro, determined to do whatever he did. In our yard in Oakland he enjoyed lounging on a bed he built himself, taking in the sun while reading one of his books. In this photo he’s lying on his stomach with a thick book open in front of him. I’m fast asleep on his back, and he’s looking over his shoulder wondering whether he should keep reading with the weight of a sleeping child on his back, or risk waking me up. Copyright Girma Family Collection.

  The way Yafet embraces lotion is exactly how he embraces life. My four-year-old cousin’s face is slathered in it, with globs of lotion all over his face, hands, and pajamas. Copyright Gebreyesus Family Photo.

  An enormous iceberg, about thirty feet tall, fills most of this photo. It’s a pale, almost-white blue, with a hint of yellow. I stand beside the iceberg on Mendenhall Lake, touching it with a gloved hand. This is not the iceberg we climbed. Copyright Girma Family Collection.

  Dean Martha Minow hands me a diploma as I cross the stage at Harvard Law School’s graduation ceremony. Dean Minow and I are both wearing academic regalia. My guide dog Maxine is wearing a fabulous fur coat. Copyright Girma Family Collection.

  President Barack Obama stands by a tall table as he types with all his fingers. I’m reading his words as they appear on my braille computer, positioned on the other side of the table. Vice President Joe Biden and Valerie Jarrett are also standing in the Blue Room observing our conversation. Photo by The White House / Pete Souza.

  President Barack Obama has his arm around my shoulder as he guides me through the Green Room. I’m holding my braille computer as we walk, and Vice President Joe Biden is right behind us. Photo by The White House / Pete Souza.

  A powerful speech inspires audiences to take action. Here I’m speaking from the Summit at Sea stage, surrounded by glowing purple and orange coral structures. Photo by Summit / Ian Rowan

  My sister TT, in her twenties now, stands on top of a hill with her arms outstretched triumphantly, the city of San Francisco behind her. She’s wearing jeans, a colorful shirt, tinted black framed glasses, and a big smile. Copyright Girma Family Collection.

  My guide dog Maxine and I traveled all over the country to give talks on disability rights and inclusion. In this photo I’m kneeling beside Maxine in front of the University of Kansas bell tower. Maxine looks up at me, with her paw on my arm, as I gently explain, “We’re not in California anymore.” Copyright Girma Family Collection

  Left, right, forward, and canter—communicating with a horse reminds me of working with a guide dog. In this photo I’m riding a tan-colored horse, holding the reins and smiling. Behind me are green rolling hills. Copyright Girma Family Collection

  I love stand up paddling, especially in warm water. I’m wearing a lifejacket and standing on a SUP board, paddle extended in front of me as I cross Kealakekua Bay. The water of the bay is a bit choppy, and in the distance are misty green hills Copyright Girma Family Collection

  My dear friends April and Brian Wilson gifted me with the honor of officiating their wedding. Brian, wearing his U.S. Navy uniform, stands at the alter gazing adoringly at April. She holds a bouquet of cream, pink, and orange flowers that compliment her gorgeous blush pink dress. My hands read from my braille computer, placed on the altar between us, as I help them celebrate their love. The tranquil waters of the bay stretch out behind us. Photo by Ryan Greenleaf

  About the Author

  Haben Girma is a disability rights lawyer, author, and public speaker. The first Deafblind person to graduate from Harvard Law School, Haben advocates for equal opportunities for people with disabilities. President Obama named her a White House Champion of Change. She received the Helen Keller Achievement Award, and a spot on Forbes 30 under 30. President Bill Clinton, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, and Chancellor Angela Merkel have also honored Haben. Haben combines her knowledge of law, sociology, and technology to teach organizations the benefits of fully accessible products and services. Her insights help to expand our thinking, creating lasting, positive change among people and communities. Her work has been featured in the Financial Times, BBC, NPR, GOOD Magazine, the Washington Post, and more.

  Haben was born and raised in the Bay Area, where she currently lives. She shares her latest stories, photos, and videos on her website, mailing list, and social media.

  Website: habengirma.com

  Mailing list: habengirma.com/get-email-updates/

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/habengirma

  Twitter: @HabenGirma

  Instagram: @HabenGirma

  LinkedIn: @HabenGirma

  Acknowledgments

  Ableism continues to haunt people with disabilities, rendering exclusion the norm around the world. Very few blind students in the U.S. have consistent access to braille, and only about ten percent receive braille instruction. Countless schools choose to fight parents rather than accommodate a disabled student, and numerous employers refuse to remove barriers in the workplace. Against this backdrop, the level of inclusion I experienced throughout my life is astounding. The thriving disability rights community in Oakland and Berkeley, where I grew up, connected me to disabled and nondisabled role models. They dismantled access barriers for me, teaching me how to advocate for myself in the process. My deepest gratitude goes to the teachers, employers, advocates, friends, and all the other community members who identified and removed access barriers throughout my life. It’s my hope that some day the level of accessibility I experienced will cease being remarkable, and every person with a disability, from children to elders, will live in a barrier-free world.

  I started writing this book in 2017. My literary agent Jane Dystel provided valuable wisdom and guidance through the journey to publication. She introduced me to Twelve Books where Sean Desmond and Rachel Kambury supported this book through their expert editing, patience, and endless enthusiasm. Thank you for championing this book Sean, Rachel, and everyone else at Twelve, including Becky Maines, Brian McLendon, Jarrod Taylor, Paul Samuelson, Rachel Molland, and Yasmin Mathew.

  My family has blessed me with love and we wouldn’t have these stories without them. Thank you to Saba, Girma, TT (Yohana), Mussie, Awet, and my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Thank you, too, Gordon.

  Thank you to all my readers. Your time is a gift, and I’m touched that you chose to read my book. I want to send a special thank you to my early readers: April Wilson, Caitlin Hernandez, Danielle Frampton, Daniel F. Goldstein, David Vincent Kimel, Lisa Ferris, Liza Ghosh, Mashal Waqar, Nunu Kidane, Odunola Ojewumi, and Zachary Shore. I also want to thank Stanford-based historian Issayas Tesfamariam for his patience and generosity in answering my questions on Eritrean history.

  This book is a work of creative nonfiction. The stories portray events to the best of my memory. Some minor details and dialogue have been recreated in places where my memory fell short, and some names and identifying details have been changed to protect individual privacy. Literary techniques such as compressing time have been used in some instances to help the story flow. This is not an advice book, and if you follow my example you do so at your own risk. Some of the activities descr
ibed here are downright dangerous, including climbing icebergs and trying unknown cafeteria food. Stay safe out there!