Politics & Power Quote by Christopher Reeve

Reeve turns “lucky” into a provocation. Spoken from a wheelchair after the 1995 riding accident that left him paralyzed, the line refuses the sentimental script people expect from tragedy. He doesn’t call himself lucky because his circumstances are good; he calls himself lucky because he still has leverage. That inversion is the engine of the quote: it reframes celebrity not as a halo but as a tool, something you spend on other people’s behalf.

The clipped repetition of “I can” is doing political work. It’s a rhythm of agency, a counterspell against a culture that treats disability as disappearance. Reeve lists access points most patients don’t have: Congress, money, media. Each clause is a reminder that the real barrier isn’t only medical; it’s institutional attention. By naming those platforms, he quietly indicts the system that needs a famous actor to translate suffering into urgency.

There’s also a canny self-awareness in the triad: testify, fundraise, raise awareness. He moves from policy to resources to narrative, mapping how change actually happens in America. “Awareness” is last because it’s both the easiest to perform and the hardest to cash out; Reeve insists it’s only meaningful when linked to legislation and research dollars.

The subtext is gratitude without passivity. Reeve isn’t asking to be admired for endurance. He’s telling you what he’s going to do with the microphone - and, by implication, what the rest of us could do with whatever access we have.