by Lori A. Wood
Wendy Crawford creates a site for women in wheelchairs to trade secrets.
Whoever it was that first uttered the phrase, “Beauty is only skin deep,” never met Wendy Crawford. While her external beauty is obvious, she possesses a far more enviable attribute-inner strength. It seems to radiate from within her, a manifestation of the kind of fortitude that few of us will ever know.
Growing up in Cambridge, Ontario, Canada, Wendy was adventurous, excelling in long- distance running and equestrian events. Her first love, though, was swimming. “I spent most of my time in the water,” Wendy explains. “Exercise has always been therapeutic for me.” In high school, she took a job as a pool instructor and lifeguard. Swimming made her feel free and allowed her to escape from the awkwardness of adolescence. “As a kid, I saw myself as an ugly duckling,” she says. “I was tall and gangly with braces and, because of my short haircut, I was often mistaken for a boy.”
Transformations
In 1983, Wendy had an opportunity to let her inner swan shine through, thanks to her first modeling job. “It happened by accident,” she explains. “My hairdresser needed someone to model for a competition and asked if I was interested.” Several modeling agencies offered to accept her right away and, since her parents couldn’t afford college, Wendy saw modeling as a chance to earn some money. After graduating from high school, Wendy moved to Toronto to pursue a modeling career. Before long, she was offered an international contract-a two-month modeling assignment in Tokyo, Japan. At 19, her life had taken an unexpected turn; she had no way of knowing that another wild curve lay in the road ahead.
On the foggy night of July 5, 1984, Wendy and a friend were on their way to the airport to make Wendy’s flight to Tokyo. “We didn’t realize that it was foggy until we got out on the highway, so we decided to get off at an exit,” Wendy remembers. The driver behind them-who, Wendy would learn later, was drunk at the time-thought that they were still on the main road and he followed them up the ramp at high speed. “We were going quite slow and he rear-ended us. My suitcase was on the back seat and it flew over and hit me in the back of the neck. Then, our car spun out and ended up in the fast lane of the highway.”
To further complicate matters, the car’s gas tank had ruptured in the crash, making it much harder to free Wendy from the wreckage. Her door was jammed and, because rescuers feared an explosion, she remained trapped in the car for two hours. These frightful images are still vivid in her mind. “That was the worst part. I had to sit there, listening to cars screeching around me, thinking, please don’t let us get hit again.” Eventually, she was rescued by the volunteer fire department. Though her friend was not badly hurt in the accident, Wendy had sustained a C-5/C-6 spinal cord impairment (SCI), which re n d e red her a quadriplegic.
Identity Crisis
Confronted by numerous physical challenges, she wasn’t as prepared to deal with the emotional ones that often accompany SCI. “It was so overwhelming. I couldn’t even look at TV or a magazine because seeing people with normal lives was just too much. When I encountered others with disabilities, I’d think, I’m not one of those people. I was in denial. Doctors told me that I’d never walk again, but I was sure that I would. I just wanted my life back.”
Still, she approached her rehabilitation with an iron will, relying on her experience as an athlete to carry her through. Though the road to self-acceptance was long and hard, Wendy worked tirelessly to ensure that the journey was not in vain.
In 1985, the Attorney General’s Office of Ontario hired Wendy to work for a drinking and driving countermeasures team. As their spokesperson, she talked to high school students about the dangers of drunk driving. “The job not only helped me financially, but emotionally, as well. It made me realize that I could be productive again. It was extremely rewarding to know that I could help others.” Wendy received the Ontario Crime Prevention Award twice and a Citizen of the Year award from her hometown Cambridge. “It was strange to receive awards for telling my own story,” she admits. While she occasionally still makes speeches on the subject, she gave up the job in 1990. “I was reiterating the details of my accident every day, and felt I needed to move forward.”
Miss Independent
That year, Wendy moved to Florida to participate in research studies for the Miami Project to Cure Paralysis. She has participated in their exercise program, lifting weights and utilizing functional electrical stimulation technology.
Three years later, she met Dan Burton, whom she married in 1994. After nearly five years of marriage, they divorced. “SCI puts a strain on the relationship, but there were many other factors involved. We’re still friends and always will be.” With the help of a live-in attendant, Wendy is able to live independently. Though she eventually received a settlement from her accident, she is not unfamiliar with the monetary burden that a disability can impose.
“Financial challenges are huge,” she states. “It’s a struggle, even with finances, being able to live life.” Recently, Wendy bought her own home with modified counters and an accessible shower.
Following her injury, Wendy found modeling jobs hard to come by. “Most of the work I’d done was head and beauty shots, so it didn’t make any sense that I couldn’t do a lot of the same work.” In an effort to integrate her modeling experience and fundraising, Wendy became founder and president of a project called Discovery Through Design (DTD), found on the Internet at www.discoverythroughdesign.org.
Its mission is to recognize strong, resilient women who refuse to let SCI keep them from leading productive lives. Founded in 2002, the organization hopes to accomplish this by sponsoring a nationwide “Women with Style” contest, tentatively scheduled to take place later this year. Contestants will be encouraged to share their stories of courage in dealing with SCI and Wendy hopes that their experiences will serve to inspire others.
“There seem to be more male role models for those with SCI than females. I’d like to see more female role models,” Wendy says. Quickie Designs, a wheelchair manufacturer, will collaborate with top fashion designers, including Nicole Miller, Lily Pulitzer and Dana Buchman, to create chairs that bear the designers’ signature looks. Once contest winners are announced, these unique chairs will be presented to them at a fashion show next spring. Proceeds from the event will support SCI research.
One of the event’s beneficiaries, the Christopher Reeve Paralysis Foundation, praises Wendy’s efforts. “Discovery Through Design’s unique program is a wonderful conduit to raise awareness and much- needed funds for spinal cord injury research,” proclaims Dana Reeve.
Prejudice and Pride
After her accident, Wendy was hungry for information regarding the practical aspects of living as a woman with SCI, but discovered that such advice was virtually nonexistent. “I could barely find anything,” she says, and became determined to do something to change that. In 2003, in collaboration with Rutgers University, Wendy created mobilewomen.org, an online magazine for women in wheelchairs. “I consider myself a resourceful person and wanted to give others access to useful information,” she says. She realized that society is often intimidated by people with disabilities and by putting forth more knowledge about them she can help them gain acceptance. The magazine provides information on a variety of topics, including pregnancy and parenting. “Mobile women have the same issues as other women,” she explains. “The only limitations we have are the limitations we impose on ourselves.”
Wendy recognizes that United Spinal Association could prove to be an ally in the realization of this philosophy. “I saw them online, and I’m trying to get the word out about mobilewomen.org. United Spinal has been very supportive. Right now, we have the same goal: to support women by providing them with resources in order to live their lives to the fullest.”
Though Wendy was initially reluctant to make friends within the disabled community, her attitude has drastically changed. “I respect and admire them for everything they’ve done,” she says. “I’m proud to be one of them now.”
Lori A. Wood is a freelance writer who lives in Council Bluffs, Iowa.
