phenomenal is not a word that I would use to describe myself.   It’s not even a word I”m comfortable having someone use to describe me.  So a few days ago when I received an email from a pretty phenomenal woman herself that started off  You are a “Phenomenal Woman”  and I enjoyed the privileged of meeting and telling you how much I admire and appreciate your willingness to share your story I had a really hard time understanding what this meant.  This is following being called “a hero” by this same individual when she found me at a get together for current and former Partners in Policymaking participants.  “Hero” is a noun that I don’t think I would ever use to describe myself.  I was taken back by her statements, completely unsure how to react — do I cry?  do I challenge her assertion?  to I say a simple thank you?  do I hug her?  I think I’ve done all of these things and then some since last saturday.  My favorite reaction being that I told her I was going to take her home with me so that when my confidence was shot, when I didn’t see the point of fighting anymore and I wanted to give up, I’d have her there to give me a boost and remind me of why I keep fighting, why I don’t give up, and that what I’m doing is helping others.  She helps others too, as an advocate for special education, as a mother with a child on the autism spectrum, as a warrior and fighter, she’s rather phenomenal herself.

I met a lot of phenomenal people this weekend at the first training weekend for the 2010 class of NC Partners in Policymaking, some of them parents of children with developmental disabilities, some who have disabilities themselves and some, who without even a family connection to someone with a disability, fight tirelessly for the civil rights of this group of individuals.  One of my classmates, Allison Davis wrote about this experience here so I’m not going to repeat what she’s already said so perfectly and urge you to read what she has shared.  A mother of three boys with autism who is writing a book for other parents about teaching strategies and sharing her experiences and knowledge, she’s also phenomenal.

There are a lot of phenomenal people out there who are fighting for the rights of individuals with disabilities.  If you are one of them, I say a HUGE thank you for doing what you do  — you are my inspiration.  If you know one of them, I ask you to tell them just how phenomenal they are because they may not realize it and it may make a difference for them to hear it. 

For me, being called phenomenal has reminded me why I fight.  Not because I strive to be phenomenal or amazing or anyone’s hero, but because it means that somewhere I helped someone (even if it’s just one person for one moment in time) to not give up their fight; that I was a motivating force and an inspiration.  It has reminded me of why I started this blog in the first place — to share with others our experiences with the schools and the courts — and has motivated me to find my voice again and start writing. (Which means that over the next few weeks, I’ll be updating this site with the latest court documents and finally putting together the timeline of events that has been in a perpetual state of construction.)

On my night stand sits a number of books that I have had since college.  Among them, and often always on top (it competes for this spot with Anna Quindlen’s A Short Guide to a Happy Life), is a small black book with teal and pink on the cover.  It’s the book Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou. 

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me. 

I’m still uncomfortable with being called phenomenal, but I’ll admit, it doesn’t hurt to hear it sometimes.