Leslie Thornton

St. Mary's, Georgia (Senate District 3)

The COVID-19 pandemic lockdown was among the toughest things ever to happen to 29-year-old Leslie Thornton. It was also one of the best.

It was tough because, like many of us, and especially those in the disability community, the lockdowns meant months of physical isolation from friends and her wider community. (Leslie lives with her family in the small south-Georgia city of St. Mary’s, near the Florida coast.)

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What made it the best thing? Like many of us, the lockdown forced Leslie, who has cerebral palsy and Schizencephaly, to connect with people in new ways. And this became a defining event in her life. “When the world went virtual,” she writes in a blog article, she seized on opportunities to meet virtually with “disability advocates from all over the globe.” She also connected with her inner activist.

In 2020, Leslie had already been working for a couple of years as a social media content developer for Progressive Abilities. This nonprofit organization provides holistic employment services for people with disabilities. Its big-picture goal is to promote full inclusion in the workforce and community. In her role, Leslie crafted copy for the group’s website and Facebook page. Then came the lockdown, and, like so many others around the world, Leslie found herself installing video chat software on her computer.

This changed everything.

Suddenly, in Zoom chat rooms, Leslie was having her horizons expanded. Her conversations with other disability rights activists inspired her to learn more about forerunners in the movement, people like Judy Heumann, who is often called the “mother of disability rights.” Leslie already knew Heumann's vital role in the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). But, as Leslie writes in one of her blog articles, her conversations with other activists inspired her to learn more about Heumann. She eventually attended a live event at which Heumann spoke a year before she passed away in March 2023. There, she learned how “Judy shared her personal experiences and…used storytelling to create change.” Leslie dedicated herself to using her platform to do the same.

She has plenty to get fired up about.

First off: “awareness” days — those days on the calendar when we’re asked to pause and reflect on a particular cause. Leslie’s usual sunny disposition clouds over when she discusses these. “I mean, the question is: What are we doing around this?” she asks. “What does it mean to be ‘aware’? It means ‘to see.’ You can see us all the time. Here we are! So, we need to do away with ‘awareness’ and move to acceptance. Accept me the way I am!”

Leslie is also frustrated when people without disabilities underestimate those in the disability community. Far too often in her own life, she says, people meet her, observe her difficulties with verbal speech, and make assumptions. They assume she doesn’t have much to say. “And clearly, that’s not true,” she jokes. They may doubt her intelligence. “Look,” she says, “we’re not stupid. Stephen Hawking used AAC, and he was the smartest guy in the world!”

AAC, or augmentative and alternative communication, refers to communication methods people with disabilities may use to supplement or replace verbal speech or writing. These range from sign language to high-tech devices allowing users to communicate and navigate the internet using only their eye movements.

Undoubtedly, people with disabilities have a long history of being at the leading edge of breakthrough technology. (Some early versions of the typewriter may even have been designed to assist people with visual impairment!) 

With her strong online presence and knowledge of adaptive tech, Leslie seems to be right on that vanguard. Like celebrated theoretical physicist Hawking, she also uses AAC. “I use text-to-speech, which converts written text to spoken words, allowing individuals to communicate verbally even if they cannot produce speech themselves,” she says. This technology serves as an important tool, she notes, but she also see slots of room for needed improvement. Better machine-learning algorithms could improve the accuracy of AAC devices like hers, she notes. These devices could also be more customizable to individual needs. After all, as she says, “If you’ve met one disabled person, you’ve met…one disabled person.” Finally ,strides need to be made in the affordability of high-tech AAC devices, sincecommunication should be a right, not a privilege for those who can afford it.

The pandemic spurred a boom in assistive technology, from speech-to-tech software to website accessibility. (Not for every website, of course. As of this piece’s publication, Leslie notes she’s boycotting the social media platform, Threads, for its poor accessibility scores.)

Leslie appreciates every advancement that’s come to fruition. But that’s no reason for complacency. “Being in this generation,” she says, “we have become so accustomed to the ADA being there, it’s almost like we expect accessibility.”  And why shouldn’t she?

The last few years have been transformative for Leslie Thornton. She notes that her younger self would be amazed and proud to see the person she has become: a woman who spends her days fighting for what matters most to her alongside other activists — people, she notes emotionally, who she has truly come to love.

She notes that she never would have arrived at this point were it not for the love and support of her real-world family and friends, most of whom do not have profound disabilities. But there is something freeing — life-changing, even — about the virtual hours she spends with other people with conditions like hers. “I get to be my whole self,” she says. Compared with before the pandemic lockdown? “I am a whole ‘nother person now.”

And she wants to help other people with disabilities experience the same transformation. “I want people to feel that way. I want people to feel whole.”

Writer: Kate Sweeney Photographer: Celeste Thornton