The
Adventurer
Leading the Government’s Disability Research B Y
E L I Z A B E T H
F O R S T
Moving to D.C. from Nashville has been a challenging yet exciting transition. Just six months ago, Forber-Pratt was named the new director of the National Institute of Disability, Independent Living and Rehabilitation Research. Housed within the Administration for Community Living, NIDILRR is the federal government’s primary disability research organization. After devoting years to disability research and leadership, she has landed a dream job. But before taking on her new role, she had the daunting task of finding an accessible living situation where she and Kolton would be comfortable. “All I wanted was a place to sleep, shower and do laundry,” she says. “I am someone who has grown up with my disability since I was a baby, and I feel like I’m pretty savvy in navigating these spaces, yet it was still hard even for me.”
Embracing her Identity
Photo courtesy of anjalifp.com
I
t’s 6 p.m. on a Friday, and Anjali Forber-Pratt takes in the majestic view of the sun setting against the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C., from her new living room. As she closes her laptop, she feels a slobbery mouth pop up from underneath her desk and settle on her knee. With a soulful look, Kolton, Forber-Pratt’s black lab service dog, reminds her it is the end of their workday and the beginning of playtime. Fresh air and a rooftop dog park full of other furry friends await them. “OK Bubba, let’s go, let’s get out of here!” Wheeling around half-opened packing boxes, Forber-Pratt removes Kolton’s service vest, grabs his favorite squeaky toys, and they head out. It’s been a long week of working remotely and settling in to her new apartment. It’s time to get outside with her bestie. 14
NEW MOBILITY
Forber-Pratt was born in India. She was adopted from an orphanage in Calcutta by a Boston family who brought her to the United States when she was a little over 2 months old. Shortly after her arrival, at just 4 months, she contracted transverse myelitis, an inflammation of the spinal cord, paralyzing her from the waist down. Forber-Pratt grew up using a wheelchair and loved adventuring with her older brother Ian. They played street hockey, built snow forts, crossed the neighborhood creek and went downhill skiing. “I stayed out of the adventures as much as I possibly could to allow for limit stretching in a reasonably safe way,” says Rosalind Forber, Forber-Pratt’s mother. “But one day, when they were about 9 and 5 years old, I looked out from our kitchen window and saw the two of them way up in a large white pine tree. I would guess that they were up about 40 or 45 feet, sitting on a branch and laughing. I realized that there was really nothing I could do to change the fact that they were already up there. I could only breathe deeply and send up a few prayers.” Moments later, the two descended safely, though covered in pine pitch, and Forber-Pratt happily reported back to her mother that she had planned their escapade from the beginning. Learning to embrace her identity as a disabled child, rather than shy away from it, helped mold Forber-Pratt into the woman she is today. She remembers crying in the bushes in preschool when she realized her disability was not going away. “I had this incredible teacher who presented me with the choice of either staying in the bushes crying for the whole rest of my life or coming out from the bushes to learn how to live my life, disability and all. Thankfully I came out of the bushes that day,” she says. Around the same time, Forber-Pratt watched wheel-
