In the Harry Potter universe, there is a tool that Harry, Hermione, and Ron sometimes use on their adventures: the Cloak of Invisibility.
They would throw it over themselves, and no one around them would be able to see them.
My wheelchair is kind of like that.
It has happened at rallies, meet the teacher nights, art exhibit openings, and airports. Usually when it happens, I am with my spouse.
For example, if my spouse and I are chatting with someone, they will generally direct most of their comments to Mary, rarely—if at all—addressing me.
Other times, it is while I am trying to navigate a space, especially if that space is crowded. People will walk right in front of me, even if I am moving forward in my wheelchair. I have had people cut in line right ahead of me if I am waiting in that line.
One time, my spouse and I attended an event where the chairs for attendees were arranged tightly together with no thought to wheelchair users. One aisle was bounded on one side by the seating and the other side by bleachers. We were travelling the aisle, looking for a place to situate the wheelchair, and there were people coming the other direction. The aisle was barely wide enough for my wheelchair, let alone for bidirectional foot traffic. The other attendees kept walking toward us as if I was not there.
I certainly could not be wheeled off to the side to provide them room, as there was no room anywhere else for me. They, at least, could have shuffled into one of the rows until we wheeled past. But, no, they choose instead to try to slide by my wheelchair sideways, knocking me in the head with their bags.
People do not just see me differently in a wheelchair; they often do not see me at all.
