What is an inclusive society without the protection of the rights and dignity of everyone? This is a question we must ask, not only today, on the International Day of Persons with Disabilities, but every day as we speak about social inclusion, equity, and progress.

Too often, our conversations about disability inclusion stop at presence. We focus on ensuring that persons with disabilities are "in the room." But the bigger and more important question is: What role do they play once they are in the room? Are their voices heard? Are their opinions valued? Are they shaping the very decisions that affect their lives or are they only brought in just as a symbol to tick the box?

This is how quickly inclusion becomes tokenism.

This year's theme for the International Day of Persons with Disabilities "Fostering Disability - Inclusive Societies for Advancing Social Progress" speaks directly to this challenge. It reminds us that true progress cannot exist where 1.3 billion people with disability across the world remain excluded from meaningful participation. We cannot advocate for social development while persons with disabilities are treated as afterthoughts in policies, programs, and frameworks. Progress on poverty reduction, employment, gender equality, education, climate action, health, and governance will never be sustainable without the full participation of persons with disabilities.

Yet, for far too long, persons with disabilities have remained on the sidelines.

I know this not just as an advocate for disability rights and inclusion, but as a woman who became a person with a disability as a teenager. Overnight, my life shifted. My dreams were interrupted by pain, limitations, silence, and a society that suddenly began to speak about me instead of to me. I learned very early that disability is not just about the body. It is about exclusion. It is about stigma. It is about being constantly forced to prove your worth in a world that was never designed with you in mind.

But I also learned resistance.

Today, I stand as a spinal cord injury survivor, and a disability inclusion practitioner who has chosen to turn pain into policy, and survival into systemic change. My journey into advocacy was not born from comfort, it was born from inaccessibility, from watching caregivers(my parents and other parents of persons with disabilities) burn out in silence, from listening to women with disabilities whisper their stories of violence, poverty, isolation, and neglect.

Over the years, my work has taken me from grassroots communities in Benue State to national advocacy spaces across Nigeria and international spaces through platforms like the Women of the South Speak Out fellowship. Yet with all these experience, I have sat in rooms where decisions were made without us, and in rooms where we were invited only to be seen, not heard. I have listened to people with psychosocial disabilities who remain excluded not just by society, but sometimes even by the disability movement itself.

This is why inclusion must move beyond presence to power.

We cannot continue to build systems where persons with disabilities are consulted as an afterthought. We cannot claim equity while caregivers remain unsupported. We cannot speak of justice while women and girls with disabilities continue to face abuse, neglect, and economic exclusion in silence. We cannot speak of social progress while millions are locked out of education, employment, healthcare, and political participation simply because they are disabled.

This International Day of Persons with Disabilities is not just for celebration. It is a call to action. A call to dismantle the persistent barriers that prevent full participation. A call to ensure that our Sustainable Development Goals do not leave behind 1.3 billion people because inclusion was treated as optional.

And for me, this work is deeply personal.

There are days I advocate from strength, and days I advocate from exhaustion. Days when the weight of systemic neglect feels unbearable. Days when I wonder if my voice is enough. Yet, I continue because I know that my survival is not accidental. It is political. It is purposeful. It is tied to the survival of every young girl with a disability who has been told she is invisible, every caregiver who has been forgotten, and every person with a psychosocial disability who has been denied dignity.

Today, I am not asking for pity.

I am demanding partnership.

I am demanding intentional inclusion.

I am demanding policies that move beyond symbolism into real-life transformation.

I am demanding that mental health be treated as a disability justice issue.

I am demanding that women with disabilities be protected, represented, and resourced.

And most importantly, I am demanding that we stop treating persons with disabilities as beneficiaries and start recognizing us as leaders.

To every person with a disability still trying to find their voice: your story matters. Your anger is valid. Your dreams are not too big.

To governments, institutions, and society at large: inclusion is not a favor. It is a responsibility.

And to those of us who continue to rise, even when the road is unkind we are not just surviving. We are reshaping the world.