If I Were You, I'd Kill Myself : A Memoir

If I Were You, I’d Kill Myself is an unapologetic, hilarious, and triumphant memoir that revolutionizes what it means to be disabled.

Imani Barbarin was two years old when she was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, a congenital motor disability that affects her ability to walk without crutches. Because of that, she has been called “inspiring” for simply living, “pretty for a disabled girl,” and “brave." One person tried to offer sympathy by saying that in her place. “I would kill myself.” But what others offer as kindness, Imani recognizes for what it is: a projection of fear, discomfort, and deeply ingrained ideas about whose lives are worth living.

Since her diagnosis, she has spent her life navigating not just the physical realities of her condition, but the relentless assumptions of able-bodied strangers—people who stare, comment, and insist on turning her existence into something for their own comfort.

With sharp humor and unflinching clarity, Imani dismantles these everyday encounters, exposing the quiet violence beneath this surface sympathy. With sardonic wit of Samantha Irby and the incisive cultural criticism of Roxane Gay, Barbarin finally reclaims her story on her own terms.

À propos de ce livre

If I Were You, I’d Kill Myself is an unapologetic, hilarious, and triumphant memoir that revolutionizes what it means to be disabled.

Imani Barbarin was two years old when she was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, a congenital motor disability that affects her ability to walk without crutches. Because of that, she has been called “inspiring” for simply living, “pretty for a disabled girl,” and “brave." One person tried to offer sympathy by saying that in her place. “I would kill myself.” But what others offer as kindness, Imani recognizes for what it is: a projection of fear, discomfort, and deeply ingrained ideas about whose lives are worth living.

Since her diagnosis, she has spent her life navigating not just the physical realities of her condition, but the relentless assumptions of able-bodied strangers—people who stare, comment, and insist on turning her existence into something for their own comfort.

With sharp humor and unflinching clarity, Imani dismantles these everyday encounters, exposing the quiet violence beneath this surface sympathy. With sardonic wit of Samantha Irby and the incisive cultural criticism of Roxane Gay, Barbarin finally reclaims her story on her own terms.