More Than Meets the Eye: Intersectionality, Identity, and the Wisdom of Dogs

I’ve always known I was different — not just because I have cerebral palsy, or because I speak in a way that some people find hard to understand. I’m different because I am a disabled Indigenous woman. But I’m also a sister, an aunt, a friend, a dog lover, a bookkeeper, an entrepreneur, and a storyteller.

All of these parts of me matter. They don’t exist separately — they overlap, interact, and shape how I move through the world. That’s what intersectionality means to me.

Sometimes, people only see one part of me — the wheelchair, or the speech difference — and they stop there. They assume I’m not intelligent, or that I don’t have something to say. But I am, and I do — I always have.

Do you know how hard it is to get a job or to get people to actually see my talents and abilities? Employers often don’t hire you because you might not work as fast as others, without realizing that your attention to detail could actually lead to better outcomes. And in the business world, clients sometimes question your professionalism or intellect — just because you don’t fit their mold.

But that doesn’t stop me.

Sure, there are jobs that might be easier for me to “fit into.” But I’m a businesswoman at heart. I love numbers — and I’m pretty good at them. I never saw myself as a leader, but I’ve always encouraged my family to set goals and follow through. At my graduation, someone shouted, “You are a leader, Patricia!” Maybe I was born to break the mold I was put in.

Do I wish I could speak like everyone else? Yes — it would make life easier. But so would being a white male. The truth is, we all have layers. And we need to accept and acknowledge every layer — in ourselves and in others — to truly understand one another.

That’s why I love dogs. And since August is National Dog Month, I want to talk about how we need to be more like dogs.

Dogs accept the whole person, just as they are. They don’t care if you struggle with math, or can’t draw stick figures, or can’t see their beautiful puppy-dog eyes. Dogs accept you for you.

In my experiences, dogs don’t need me to speak clearly. They don’t interrupt. They don’t look confused or uncomfortable. They just get me. They listen with their hearts, not just their ears. They respond to energy, to presence, to love. And in a world that often overlooks people like me, that kind of connection is everything.

I don’t have a service dog — not yet, anyway. But I’ve had dogs in my life who’ve understood me better than most people. They’ve sat with me in silence, played with me without needing words, and reminded me that communication is about more than speech. It’s about trust. It’s about patience. It’s about being seen.

As an Indigenous woman with a disability, I carry stories that aren’t always told. I come from a culture where oral storytelling is sacred — where knowledge is passed down through voice, rhythm, and presence. And even though my voice sounds different, it still carries that same power. It still deserves to be heard.

So, this month, as we talk about intersectionality, I want to remind you: people are more than one thing. We are layered. We are complex. And we are worthy of being understood — even if we don’t speak the way you expect.

And if you ever forget that, just spend some time with a dog. They’ll remind you how to truly listen.

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