Last night I could not help thinking ‘this is us’. It was as if my people, the vibrant community to which I belong, had suddenly taken centre stage, and I have rarely felt more proud. I felt as if the eyes of the world have turned towards the disabled community, and the British disabled community in particular, and finally saw us for who we truly are. In short I found the Paralympic opening ceremony a triumph.

I had feared I would find it condescending; I had feared it would be full of patronising imagery and slogans like ‘triumph over adversity’ and ‘don’t they do well’, as if this was something which had to be done after the Olympics to keep us cripples happy. Instead, I felt last night’s ceremony was just as impressive, grandiose and enthusiastic as the first. This was no afterthought, no tagged on sequel, but a pre-planned second volume of an epic novel, the denouement of a tale started by norms but continued by us crips. To see the second event being taken no less seriously than the first felt very gratifying indeed.

Unfortunately, there was no grand entrance by the queen. I must admit to being mildly disappointed by that. After she parachuted in with double-oh-seven last time, I was half expecting something similar. I thought there was an outside chance that they might just replay that film, although I daresay that would have just looked lazy. It would have been cooler, in my opinion, to have done something similar but with a disability slant. What if Francesca Martinez and Matt Frazer had gone to collect her majesty in a dial-a-ride bus, or Steven Hawking had ‘beamed’ her in with his star-trek style transporter? In the event she simply appeared: not as cool as being escorted to the stadium by James Bond, but fair enough, the joke had been done.

I was glad to see that Professor Hawking did indeed have a major role to play in the ceremony. Proffessor Hawking has been one of my rolemodels for as long as I can remember, being the first VOCA user I ever knew about. I was thrilled to see him being featured so prominently. Mind you, it must be said that hawking is a bit of a living, breathing disability stereotype – that of the crippled genius – so his inclusion might have been rather obvious. Think cripple, think Hawking. On the whole, though, I think including him as narrator was a good move, and I must admit it brought a tear to my eye when he exulted everyone to look up at the stars and not down at our feet. When he said ” We are all different, there is no such thing as a standard or run-of-the-mill human being but we share the same human spirit. What is important is that we have the ability to create. This creativity can take many forms, from physical achievement to theoretical physics” I realised this ceremony was being used as a tool to ram home messages that disability rights campaigners have been trying to convey for many years.

I also liked the inclusion of Sir Ian Mackellen, not for any disability link but simply because he is one of my current favourite actors. Whenever he appeared, I couldn’t help but think ‘Mithrandir’. I had to raise an eyebrow, though, at the fact he was reading prospero’s lines from The Tempest. After all, in part The Tempest sings the praises of colonialism and imperialism: prospero is very much portrayed as superior to Caliban, the subjugated native of the island who in some ways can be seen as disabled. Miranda irritates me too, being a wimpish, naive girl always accepting her father’s word.

That aside, the latter half of the ceremony struck me as a great success, for after Shakespeare came something far more up to date. The moment Ian Dury’s Spasticus Autisticus struck up, I realised the ceremony directors had actually been listening to us crips, and if there is one thing we like it’s ironically playing with others’ perceptions of us. It was great to see that kind of self-knowing crip humour on such a major stage. The moment that song started, I thought ”this is for us!” as it displayed the same type of self-awareness I read in many disability activists. After that, I was kind of hoping that someone would say something about the cuts – after all, there is something to be said about the spectacle of so many disabled people performing in front of a prime minister who is depriving them of the means to live but that would have gone too far. It was just good to see a bit of true disability culture, rather than seeing the usual patronising images of poor crippled kids or disabled people who think they’re being provocative by playing pranks on the public when in fact they are reinforcing stereotypes.

All in all, then, I thought the opening ceremony of the Paralympics was a great success. For me, the greatest and most telling aspect was the fact that it was very much the equal to it’s predecessor: it was no less spectacular than the Olympic opening ceremony; no doubt it took no less effort to create and perform. It occurs to me that this is a sign that disability culture and politics may be about to enter the mainstream a bit more, and that the disability community might be about to raise it’s profile. After all, that’s exactly what happened in china after Beijing hosted the Olympics. I certainly hope so: who knows, these games could herald something of a renaissance for the disability community. If it does, however, we must work hard not to squander the political capital that would come with it: we must show that, while we have triumphed, it is despite and not because of the government’s current actions. The disability community now has a golden opportunity to take centre stage: we can ill afford to let it pass us by right now.