My name is Deborah Ayomide Shaba, and I am an agropreneur, a singer, and a woman with albinism. My journey has been defined by a simple yet profound mission: to prove that disability is not inability and to ensure that others see ability before disability.
From a young age, people often noticed my disability before my potential. In primary school, my visual impairment made learning a constant battle. I struggled to see the board, and even with glasses, the world was often a blur. Because I couldn’t keep up with the visual pace of the classroom, some teachers mistakenly assumed I wasn't intelligent or simply wasn't trying.
However, I had a secret weapon: my mother. She taught me how to take dictation at home, a skill that eventually turned the tables in class. When the time came for dictation exercises, the same classmates who might have looked down on me were suddenly copying from my book. It was my first real lesson that while my disability made things harder, it did not stop me from leading.
Not every lesson was easy, though. I vividly remember a Sunday school class where I stood up confidently to read a Bible verse, only to struggle with the tiny font. Instead of offering grace, the teacher shouted in front of all the other children, “If you know you cannot see very well, tell your parents to get you glasses!” I was humiliated and left in tears, but that sting eventually forged a shield of resilience.
That shield was tested again one day as I walked past a town meeting. A group of men began mocking me in Yoruba, assuming I couldn't understand them or wouldn't dare respond. I stopped, stood my ground, and asked them in their own language: "Are you the ones who held my hands and brought me to this point?" The shock was instant. Their mockery turned to murmurs of respect, and eventually, an apology. It was a pivotal moment for me; it showed me that my voice had power and that asserting yourself can transform fear into respect.
These experiences, the challenges in school, the social stigma, and the everyday encounters, pushed me to become independent and self-aware. A major milestone in this journey was gaining employment with the DADE Foundation. That "Yes" was more than just a job; it was a validation of my perseverance and a reminder that the world has a place for my talents.
Today, I am a proud agropreneur running my own poultry business. When I am not focused on business or advocacy, you’ll find me singing or expressing my playful, fun-loving energy with those who know me best. My skills in storytelling and communication are now tools I use to create positive change, especially for women with disabilities.
I want the world to understand that we do not need pity; we need access, respect, and opportunity. Inclusion should be intentional, not optional. To any person with a disability who feels unseen: your life has value, and your "Yes" is coming. My story is proof that your limits are not defined by your disability, but by your courage and determination.
Thank you for choosing to see the person behind the condition and the ability before the disability.
From a young age, people often noticed my disability before my potential. In primary school, my visual impairment made learning a constant battle. I struggled to see the board, and even with glasses, the world was often a blur. Because I couldn’t keep up with the visual pace of the classroom, some teachers mistakenly assumed I wasn't intelligent or simply wasn't trying.
However, I had a secret weapon: my mother. She taught me how to take dictation at home, a skill that eventually turned the tables in class. When the time came for dictation exercises, the same classmates who might have looked down on me were suddenly copying from my book. It was my first real lesson that while my disability made things harder, it did not stop me from leading.
Not every lesson was easy, though. I vividly remember a Sunday school class where I stood up confidently to read a Bible verse, only to struggle with the tiny font. Instead of offering grace, the teacher shouted in front of all the other children, “If you know you cannot see very well, tell your parents to get you glasses!” I was humiliated and left in tears, but that sting eventually forged a shield of resilience.
That shield was tested again one day as I walked past a town meeting. A group of men began mocking me in Yoruba, assuming I couldn't understand them or wouldn't dare respond. I stopped, stood my ground, and asked them in their own language: "Are you the ones who held my hands and brought me to this point?" The shock was instant. Their mockery turned to murmurs of respect, and eventually, an apology. It was a pivotal moment for me; it showed me that my voice had power and that asserting yourself can transform fear into respect.
These experiences, the challenges in school, the social stigma, and the everyday encounters, pushed me to become independent and self-aware. A major milestone in this journey was gaining employment with the DADE Foundation. That "Yes" was more than just a job; it was a validation of my perseverance and a reminder that the world has a place for my talents.
Today, I am a proud agropreneur running my own poultry business. When I am not focused on business or advocacy, you’ll find me singing or expressing my playful, fun-loving energy with those who know me best. My skills in storytelling and communication are now tools I use to create positive change, especially for women with disabilities.
I want the world to understand that we do not need pity; we need access, respect, and opportunity. Inclusion should be intentional, not optional. To any person with a disability who feels unseen: your life has value, and your "Yes" is coming. My story is proof that your limits are not defined by your disability, but by your courage and determination.
Thank you for choosing to see the person behind the condition and the ability before the disability.