Pushing Beyond the Limits
By Cheri Blauwet
This article was printed in Abroad View magazine fall 2004
I grew up in a rural Iowa community near the town of Larchwood (population 788). At the age of 16 months, I acquired a spinal cord injury when I was run over by a tractor in a farm accident. Although my mind at the time was too young to comprehend it, this was the defining moment of my life. Having a 
disability, especially for young people, requires taking risks and diving blindly into challenges on a daily basis. If one doesn’t step up to the plate, she will automatically be dominated by those who are physically stronger. Indeed, in order to define my personality and succeed, I had to go above and beyond the achievements of my peers.
My passion for travel was sparked when, in eighth grade, I began competing in wheelchair racing. This itself was a risk, and only after the prodding of my parents and high school coaches did I decide to give it a shot. One of the hardest things I had ever done was to wheel onto the track on the first day of practice. Because I was the only competitor within a 100-mile radius of my home, I often had to travel far and wide to receive coaching and to compete against other junior wheelchair racers. My expertise in the sport grew, and my desire to compete was insatiable. By my senior year of high school, I was traveling across the country to attend major road races. It was for this reason that I decided to attend the University of Arizona, where there is an official Wheelchair Track Team.
If you would, please fastforward to my sophomore year. I had become comfortable with living in Arizona. My grades were great, I was getting to know my professors, and it seemed that my dreams of someday attending medical school could seriously become a reality. As I thought about my personal development, I continued to ask, “What next?” Logically, the answer was study abroad! I knew I loved to travel—by that time racing had taken me around the world for various international competitions. I knew that an experience abroad would widen my horizons and make me a better person and physician. Plus, it simply sounded like fun!
While searching for an affordable program that was right for me, I was introduced to Dr. Wayne Decker, the University of Arizona Director of International Scholarships and Fellowships. Dr. Decker took me under his wing and advised me to use study abroad not only as a means of getting away for awhile, but also as a means of becoming aware. He suggested that I apply for a scholarship through the National Security Education Program (NSEP), which funds students to study, thereby building diplomatic relations in countries that are not traditionally close allies with the United States.
When considering my options, it was apparent that the traditional study abroad destinations of Western Europe and Australia would not fit under the stipulations of the scholarship. Dr. Decker and I brainstormed on how to come up with a proposal that would encompass my interests in health issues and disability rights, while also placing me in a country where the physical accessibility would allow me to remain independent. Because of its relatively modern society and interesting political and economic landscape, Dr. Decker suggested that I apply to study in Argentina. While looking for a specific program, we saw that Lexia International offered a term in Buenos Aires that included training in Spanish, classes on the development of Argentina and, most importantly, the opportunity to complete independent research. This would be an ideal chance for me to improve my skills in language and cultural sensitivity, while also investigating my academic interests. It was the perfect risk.
Six months later, when I received the scholarship, my mother distinctly thought otherwise. The idea of her daughter trying to live and thrive in South America scared her to death. Argentina’s turbulent economic and political scene made the situation even worse. I was scheduled to leave in the fall of 2000. That summer, however, I qualified to compete in the Sydney Paralympics. I deferred my study abroad to the fall of 2001, during my senior year. I was ready to live as a resident, not as a tourist, of a foreign country like Argentina.
I lived, ate, and breathed Argentina for four months. I lived in a boarding house with other students my age and became a resident of the urban culture of Buenos Aires. I took side trips to Iguazu Falls in Brazil and Machu Picchu in Peru. I flew across the hemisphere back to Arizona for a Rhodes Scholarship interview and then returned to Argentina to finish my term. I did field research for my senior honors thesis, “The Development of Genetically Modified Food in Argentina.” It was an intense and amazing experience.
When I retuned to the U.S., however, and people asked me how it was, my true feelings came out. I told them, and continue to tell them, that it was the most challenging, yet rewarding, experience of my life. Although my time abroad may sound like wine and roses, it was challenging in unimaginable ways. I lived in a boarding house with wonderful other young people, yet had to be carried up four flights of stairs by the maintenance man every time I wanted to eat in the top-floor dining room. On the 24-hour bus ride to Iguazu Falls, I had to crawl along the aisle of the bus to use the bathroom in the back. When I traveled to Machu Picchu, which I consider the most beautiful place on Earth, I had to be carried on the backs of both my friends and hired Peruvian men. And, of course, simply living in Buenos Aires provided daily challenges and frustrations. For an entire semester, I had no choice but to take taxis for long distances, due to an inaccessible subway and bus system. I pushed along the busy streets, because there were no ramps to get onto the sidewalks.
Although these physical barriers were enough to leave me exhausted at the end of every day, a far greater challenge was facing societal stigmas about disability in a country that has not been forced to embrace disability rights and equality. To the vast majority of Argentines, a person with a disability is an object of pity and sympathy. They simply can’t fathom that a young girl in a wheelchair would, for any reason, not want or need help. Although it’s difficult to describe, one example I can provide is the following: Every morning, I would wheel to school rather than taking a taxi. I liked getting outside and seeing the bustling city, and it was only a short half-hour push to the University. Almost every day, at some point along the path, someone would come up behind me and start pushing me, simply because they assumed I needed help. They wouldn’t ask if it was okay or if I actually needed assistance, even if it was obvious that I was going just as fast as they were and doing fine on my own. Normally, when this happens in the U.S., I simply pull away, turn down the help, and explain to the person that it is not correct to assume that a person in a wheelchair wants assistance. The vast majority, whether moving quickly or slowly, prefer to continue on their way independently. Being seen as dependent and needy every time I left my house was exceptionally frustrating. The language barrier that I experienced only exacerbated the problem, as I was not able to comfortably explain why it might be offensive for others to assume that I needed help.
However thrilling and trying my experience in Argentina was, I will always be proud that I took the risk. My time abroad, for many reasons, was the most challenging experience I have ever faced but, for that reason, also the most rewarding. I came back to the U.S. with a completely new understanding of culture, the human condition, how far we’ve come, and how far we have yet to go. Although I experienced discrimination in Argentina, I always knew that I had an accepting home nation to return to, where people saw beyond my chair to the person inside. In addition, because I grew up in our society, I fully understood that these high standards of inclusion and acceptance are what I deserved. Individuals with disabilities in Argentina do not have these luxuries. AV
Cheri Blauwet was named to the 2002 USA Today All-American Academic 1st team. She graduated from the Honors College at the University of Arizona and plans to begin medical school in the fall of 2003. After studying abroad in 2002 with Lexia International, Blauwet founded the International Institute for Disability Advocacy (IIDA), a non-profit organization that provides college scholarships and an Advocacy Training Program for individuals with disabilities from developing countries.