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Posted: 2014-12-08 05:51:50

If you post a tribute to Stella Young today, please do not include a picture of a snowflake.

Just two months ago, Young – who died unexpectedly on Saturday – issued this precise instruction on Facebook.

"In case I get hit by a bus tomorrow, I want to make something clear," said the award-winning comedian, writer, feminist, atheist, activist, knitter, leading disability advocate and self-described "crip".

'I am not a snowflake' ... Stella Young knew how she wanted to be remembered.

'I am not a snowflake' ... Stella Young knew how she wanted to be remembered. Photo: Chris Hopkins

"I am not a snowflake. I am not a sweet, infantilising symbol of fragility and life. I am a strong, fierce, flawed adult woman. I plan to remain that way, in life and in death."

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One of Young's acquaintances – who had the same bone condition, osteogenesis imperfecta – had died. For some reason, people began likening this young woman to a snowflake in their social media posts. 

"Presumably because having osteogenesis imperfecta makes you small, fragile, delicate, unique, blah, blah, blah," Young wrote, warning her friends not to apply the same analogy to her. 

Comedian and disability advocate Stella Young was to host the 2014 ACT Chief Minister's Inclusion Awards. She is pictured on stage at last year's awards with guest speaker Paul Nunnari.

Comedian and disability advocate Stella Young was to host the 2014 ACT Chief Minister's Inclusion Awards. She is pictured on stage at last year's awards with guest speaker Paul Nunnari.

But how do you describe Stella? 

Many tributes today will give prominence to the term "disability advocate". Of course, she was this. No less than Australia's leading disability activist, in fact. 

Yet she was as much a champion of feminism, atheism, gay rights and all types of social justice. She was one of our top live comics – so good that she was crowned best newcomer at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival this year. She was a cracking writer; virtually every piece she penned was widely shared and commented upon. She was a global YouTube star: her TED talk in which she took aim at those who view her as "inspiration porn" has been viewed almost 2 million times. 

A Melbourne local, Stella Young was used to getting many looks on the street.

A Melbourne local, Stella Young was used to getting many looks on the street. Photo: Angela Wylie

She was a fiercely loyal and funny friend. The term "loving daughter and sister", some say, doesn't even begin to describe her relationship with her family. 

Close friend and colleague Nelly Thomas believes Young's enormous impact and popularity is easily explained. 

"She was an opinionated moll," she says.  "For someone who weighed 40 kilos, she was huge. She had the most giant intellect and depths of knowledge. 

"I think we lie a lot when people die. We say that someone was irreplaceable when we don't actually mean it but in this case, it's true. There will be no one like Stella, ever again. No one can fill those red and white spotted shoes."

Thomas says she is devastated for Young's family, and at the loss of her friend. 

"But as a colleague, I'm really f---ing angry. She just wasn't done yet. There was so much more that girl had to do and we've been robbed of that.

"She was about to tour Australia with our show – we'd already booked the hotels – she was writing a book, we had plans for Edinburgh, she'd even been flown over by the US government for a tour because they'd identified her as a leader. To watch this incredibly unique voice and talent getting this kind of exposure ... she was on a rocket. She was just beginning."

Opposition leader Bill Shorten, who worked with Young in his previous role as parliamentary secretary for disabilities, told Fairfax Media she was Australia's leading disability advocate. 

"But she had many strings to her bow," Shorten says. "She was as tough as they come. She was smart and funny. Like all good comedians, she made you laugh and she made you cry."

Shorten said Young travelled regularly, highlighting the superior access of cities such as New York and London. 

"She'd come back here and see how backwards we are in terms of access, from ramps to sliding doors," he says. 

Young often tweeted photos of herself stranded outside buildings. Sometimes, she was impeded by just a single step, when a ramp could have been easily and cheaply installed. 

Adam Smith, a friend of Young's for 10 years, lived in the same apartment building over the past 18 months and saw her nearly every day. 

He agrees that she defies easy categorisation. 

"She didn't set out to be a comedian," Smith says. "She didn't set out to be a speaker or a writer. 

"She wanted to challenge people's thinking. She wanted to challenge how people saw themselves and how they saw each other. 

"She would want people to remain passionate and angry about things that are unjust. People might easily assume that's just about disability with her but it's not. Whatever type of injustice she experienced or heard about, she would take on, from feminism to gay and lesbian rights. 

"She was never afraid to say something controversial or put those views forward in a way that captured people's attention."

Smith describes Young as a "brilliant communicator" in every realm. 

"Look at disability," he says. "She used comedy as an entry point. She made the conversation accessible. She used comedy as a tool to challenge people and open up their minds and expose them to the injustice that exists.

"Look at the way she describes herself on Twitter; all these different labels and how she embraces the word 'crip'. Labels were really important to her – but not the labels that we would put on her."

In a recent interview with The Age, Young explained why she loved the term 'crip'.

"In the '90s there was 'differently abled' or 'handy capable' – things that are just stupid. 'Handy capable' is a f---ing doozy – I've been called that, seriously.

"I identify very proudly as a disabled woman. I identify with the crip community. I didn't invent the word 'crip'. It's a political ideology I came to in my late teens and early 20s.

"People often say to me, 'You can't say that!' And I say 'Well my people have been saying it for decades, so I reckon I probably can'."

As Young used to explain, she has encountered "the soft bigotry of low expectations" since birth.

I saw this myself whenever I was with her. The patronising smiles. People who'd bend down and shout as her, as though being in a wheelchair automatically rendered her deaf.

The tones of voice that seemed to say, 'Good on you for having a go, love'. The surprised expressions of other train commuters as she told me about a bad date she'd been on recently.

Young's parents inculcated her against this from the start. Whenever someone asked them, "How's your daughter?" they'd reply, "Which one? We have three."

One time, Young's mother got wind that her school was arranging an award for Stella's "effort" in turning up every day. 

She explained that her daughter had done nothing different to her classmates. Unless the school could find a legitimate reason to hand her a gong, she was not to get one. 

"Most of us get pissed if we get cut off in traffic or someone is rude to us in Myer," Thomas says. 

"Stella dealt with this every day, but writ large to the power of 1000. I was with her, so many times, when people were insulting to her. And 99 times out of 100, she'd show grace and understanding. Don't get me wrong; she'd always correct them! She was never a doormat. But she was never bitter, either."

Young rarely failed to challenge anyone who described her as "brave".

One ABC radio host discovered this after introducing her as both "brave and bold".

"I'd mount the desk, get over there and smack you," she told him (and their many thousands of listeners). "It speaks to this kind of assumption that people with disabilities are 'brave' because our lives are horrible and that's not true at all."

Young died suddenly on Saturday night, aged 32. 

Born in the Victorian country town on Stawell, she left home at 17 to study journalism and education at Deakin University. 

Her work as a comedian, writer and activist has spanned television, radio, print and online. Her earliest media roles include eight seasons of Australia's first disability culture program No Limits on Channel 31. More recently, she was editor of the ABC's Ramp Up website, and was instrumental in advocating for the National Disability Insurance Scheme. 

Friend and comedian Catherine Deveny described Young on Facebook as a "writer, comedian, activist, feminist, educator, pleasure seeker, free thinker, truth teller, street fighter, Friday night dancer, atheist, hair model, knitter and crip". 

"What a brain. What a heart. What a woman. What a life. We were so lucky to have her. She taught me so much.

"She had no interest in walking, but thought cartwheels looked fun. Every little thing she did was magic."

Victorian premier Dan Andrews says Young "made ours a better, fairer state – more caring and more compassionate".

"There were no limits to Stella's life," he says. "Her creativity changed minds and changed laws. A trailblazer in Australian culture, she became one of our most recognisable and respected faces.

"Her determined advocacy improved the lives of so many Victorians. 

"Stella dreamt of a society where people with a disability who studied, worked and achieved great things were conventional, even ordinary. As she leaves this world, that dream is ever closer.

"While Victoria is poorer for her passing, I know she has inspired a generation of Victorians, of every background and ability, to live a life without limits."

Young's family described her as "our much loved and irreplaceable daughter and sister ... our loss is a deeply personal one. We request privacy during this difficult time."

Her family requested Young's friends and supporters make a donation to Domestic Violence Victoria, a cause they said "Stella felt intensely passionate about". 

In her recent Age interview, Young described disability as being "widely invisible" in society. 

"We think we know what it's all about; we think that disability is a really simple thing and we don't expect to see disabled people in our daily lives," she said. 

"It is archaic, but it's reality."

She also reflected on her growing public profile.

"I actually thought a few years ago – when I started getting recognised more because I was doing so much public work – 'What are you doing? You already put up with so much bullshit'. 

"But for me, in some ways, my whole life is a bit performative, and always has been – because I'm stared at and looked at everywhere I go. 

"I decided when I was going to start doing comedy, 'Right, if people are going to stare at me, I'm going to put myself in a  situation where they can stare all they like. But they also have to f---ing listen to what I say'."

mlallo@fairfaxmedia.com.au

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