On Oct. 17, Selma Blair gracefully exited "Dancing With the Stars" — ending a chapter that had a particularly special meaning for people like me.
“With a chronic illness, you do have special considerations, and my body is definitely taking a hit,” she acknowledged in a pre-recorded conversation with her dance partner, Sasha Farber. Her conclusion on the show came with layers of emotion, not only for her, but for all of those with chronic health conditions who have been rooting for her over the last month. In Selma, we saw the person we strive to be. We felt the force as she shifted her daily struggle, the physical burden of neurological disarray, into a force to be reckoned with. She accepted a position she knew would come with adversity, fully aware that she may not make it to the finish line; a fear that could hold back even the strongest of people. And, boy, she did do wonders.
She accepted a position she knew would come with adversity, fully aware that she may not make it to the finish line; a fear that could hold back even the strongest of people. And, boy, she did do wonders.
The day I married my husband, I knew there would be a permanent space existing between us — a vacancy, barren, from the activities we’d never enjoy together. An extremely active person, he had thru-hiked the Appalachian trail in 2001. Only a few years later, my immune system attacked my nervous system, leaving me a far cry from the young woman I once was, and just in time to meet my now husband. A disabling disease had taken over, but it would take me 13 years to receive a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. “I’ll never go hiking with you,” I professed soon after we met. We knew that the one activity he couldn’t live without would be something we’d never experience, together, as a couple. I wasn’t completely wrong, but those words I confessed in the early stages of our relationship didn’t prove to ring fully true, either.
In 2021, for the first time in my adult life, I climbed an uphill hiking trail. It took every morsel of my being, requiring energy from cells I wasn’t fully aware of, to climb 0.6 miles to the peak of the Craggy Pinnacle Trail in the Blue Ridge Mountains. This climb came after years of MS treatment along with daily biking to retrain my legs. It came with a physical struggle I knew all too well. But I made it. Together, my husband and I climbed to the peak of a mountain, something I never thought we’d experience side by side. And although it was only 0.6 miles, I showed myself the limitations of the word never. That's what Selma Blair showed us, too.
When Selma announced she would compete on "Dancing With the Stars," I saw myself in her. I saw a woman carrying around the physical weight of MS, but with enough hope and aspiration to take a chance on a possibility. I saw myself, announcing I’d never hike again, yet stopping in my tracks and accepting nothing less than everything I might be capable of. Each week, as Selma performed dances including the Viennese waltz, the rumba, blindfolded to decrease sensory overload, and ultimately a gentle waltz on her final evening, her victories felt personal. Her early exit from the show is not a defeat, rather it is an accomplishment for every person living with a disabling disease. Because of Selma, we will all have the courage to try something we once assumed was out of our realm forever.
In an interview with SELF magazine in September, Selma said, “I hoped that by doing this show, I could show people with disabilities the joy that can be found in ways you never expected.” Selma, not only did you meet that goal, but you’ve also helped countless fans begin a journey towards meeting theirs, too. As Selma’s journey on "Dancing With the Stars" comes to an end, so many of us are experiencing a new beginning, full of hope, all because she took a chance for everyone living with a disability. Thank you, Selma, for believing, not only in yourself, but in every last one of us.