Kerrie Leonard has always been a “problem solver”.
“If we can’t get through this, how can we get around it?” smiles the 28-year-old farmer’s daughter and horse breeder, when we meet at the UCD Smurfit Business School, where she is currently completing a master’s in marketing practice; where such a strength obviously comes in handy.
Sometimes though, the problem-solving is a lot more… let’s say pragmatic.
“Because I’ve had this chair for so long, things are falling off it,” she laughs, as she glides through the college corridors.
“So you need to learn to use a vice grips and pliers. And superglue.”
The wheelchair has been part of Kerrie’s life since a farm accident at the age of six left her paralysed, but crucially it’s never stopped her momentum; whether completing her Green Cert or her current mission to qualify in archery for the Tokyo 2020 Paralympic Games.
And while reluctant to be seen as an “inspiration”, she knows it’s important to share her story to show other people what it is possible to achieve despite of – or maybe even because of – disability.
“When I look back, I wouldn’t change anything that happened to me,” she says. “It’s made me who I am.”
Farm accident
Raised on an organic suckler farm in Culmullin, Co Meath, run by her parents Eddie and Jackie, as a child, Kerrie was never happier than when she was outside; and 1 May 1997 was no different.
“I remember it perfectly,” she says, explaining that while her father was working in a different part of the farm, she went off on the tractor with one of the other workers.
Asking if she could “drive”, she was reassured that she could take the wheel once they got back to the yard where it was safer. Unable to sit still with the excitement, however, she slipped and lost her grip on the safety handle over the door, and fell out of the cab while the tractor was still moving.
“Thinking quickly, he stopped the tractor, but he thought that I was in front of it, so he reversed and I happened to have been thrown behind the wheel, so it was driven over my torso,” explains Kerrie, who remembers seeing the top of her right arm ripped open.
“I could see the ball and the socket,” she recalls; though admits that things start to become a blur after that.
What she does know, however, is that for 24 hours she could still walk before the paralysis set in, even though her spinal cord was never actually severed.
“It was a kink in the spinal cord,” she explains, “so it’s just connections not getting through.”
As a result, Kerrie was left paralysed from just below her ribs, and had to begin the process of re-learning how to do everything in her wheelchair; but even as a child, she was determined to be as independent as possible, including on the farm.
“I have my writing on paperwork from the age of 11 or 12 and doing all of the department stuff for my dad,” says Kerrie; though she was just as likely to be found overseeing dipping and tagging of animals or “standing in a gap” when duty called.
Emotional obstacles
But while the physical challenges were quickly overcome, the emotional impact proved more problematic, especially in Kerrie’s teenage years, when she had to relearn how to do everything once again following further surgery for scoliosis.
“The chair became way more problematic for me at that point – maybe because I was the only person I knew with a disability – and that was just pronounced for me,” she says.
Indeed, Kerrie explains that at that point, she felt like an “outsider” within her peer group – which was compounded by the fact that there were not many social outlets open to her in rural Ireland at that time.
A “little bit of teasing” at school also took its toll (though she is at pains to stress that she was never bullied) and she found herself withdrawing as a result.
“I would get more closed up and found myself very isolated by a situation that I had created – not that anybody else had created,” she explains.
“I couldn’t laugh things off and if I had bitten back and made it clear that I was in on the joke as opposed to being on the outside of the joke, it would have been fine; but it took a few years to figure that whole situation out.”
Indeed, she explains that her “moment of clarity” came when her classmates threw her a birthday party and she realised that she was holding herself back; not the wheelchair or other people’s perceptions.
I was lost for a few months
“I was like: ‘I’m actually the problem here: it’s not anybody else’,” she says of her turning point.
It was not the only challenge that Kerrie would have to overcome, however. After school, she began a degree in film studies, but soon realised it wasn’t for her and dropped out.
“I was lost for a few months,” says Kerrie of the lack of direction that she felt back then; but with the encouragement of her aunt, she decided to apply to work at the London 2012 Olympics and Paralympics, where an inclusion policy meant that people with a disability could qualify for a first-round interview.
Impressing the panel, Kerrie was called back for a second interview and offered a job in logistics, moving to London for the summer. Not only was it a new lease of life; it also helped to rebuild the confidence she had lost after leaving college and showed her the importance of focusing on her strengths rather than any perceived weakness.
“(Before) I was like: ‘I can’t do that, I’ve just dropped out of college, I’ve got nothing, I’ve got no qualification, I can’t apply for anything’,” she explains.
“It was just a shift in my mindset because I was looking at job roles and thinking ‘well I can’t do that, but I can do that, that, that and that,’ whereas before I would have been ‘I can’t do that one thing on that job application, so let’s ignore the rest of it because they won’t want to see me if I can’t do that’.”
New opportunities
And this shift has opened up a world of new opportunities to Kerrie; for instance, going on to complete a degree in equine business in Maynooth, which, in a way, was following in her father’s footsteps, who had been a jockey and the one-time champion apprentice before taking over the family farm.
Indeed, in her second year of college, the pair decided to buy a mare, Dorothy Parker, from Eddie’s former employer, trainer Kevin Prendergast, so that Kerrie could get hands-on experience in breeding, with one of the foals, General Mischief, sold to trainer Michael Dods in the UK and another filly, Dotty, due to go into training this year.
And while it’s early days, it’s a part of the farm that Kerrie would like to develop in the future, especially since completing the Green Cert in January; the first person to do so in a wheelchair, she believes, where her problem-solving abilities came into their own again.
I was dehorning calves and I was checking fat scores on cattle and everything
“There wasn’t any kind of re-configuring the course, so if we had to figure it out, we figured it out,” she says.
“So I was dehorning calves and I was checking fat scores on cattle and everything, so it was very much expected to do what other people had done, bar the manoeuvring tractor thing; but that’s only because I don’t have an adapted tractor.”
Kerrie also worked in logistics with Dell in Limerick prior to returning to college to do her master’s with the marketing development programme; but study, work and farming aside, she is an accomplished sportswoman; at one stage, ranking 19th in the world in para archery and also holding the Irish Student Archery Association female compound record.
Her next goal is to compete in the Tokyo 2020 Paralympics, with qualifiers in the Netherlands this June.
“At the moment, I’ve been doing a lot of visualisation, a lot of psychology,” says Kerrie, who explains that concentration is the hardest skill to master when it comes to the sport.
“I think people spend way too much time on what’s around them rather than what’s in front of them.”
No labels, no limits
And looking straight ahead, once the master’s and qualifiers are behind her, Kerrie is keen to return to the working world.
“I’m really enthused by anything agricultural-wise or anything equine-wise,” she says of areas she would like to explore, “but I’m the type of person who takes to everything, so I love trying new experiences.”
The importance of having more people with disabilities in the workplace is something that Kerrie is passionate about.
But while she acknowledges that issues like the accessibility of buildings can be a physical barrier to employment, she believes that lack of confidence is just as big a wall.
And, in her opinion, a wall that needs to be knocked by people with disabilities themselves.
“I think a big thing with somebody who has an injury or a disability, they have to put themselves out there and apply for jobs, they have to do that,” she stresses.
“It’s the only thing that normalises your situation, because culturally we’re not going to normalise your situation, so you need to normalise it.”
And with over 640,000 Irish people living with a disability, she believes that there needs to be much more positive visibility – whether it’s in advertising or entertainment – rather than just tokenism or “sob story” representation.
“Look at the UK, they have people on Strictly and they have people on Pointless and they’re doing normal things,” she says.
“So I really think that as a society we need to start doing more.”
But in the meantime, whether she’s farming, breeding horses, studying, competing internationally – or proving herself handy with the vice grips, pliers and super glue – Kerrie Leonard will be doing more than her share.
Read more
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Kerrie Leonard has always been a “problem solver”.
“If we can’t get through this, how can we get around it?” smiles the 28-year-old farmer’s daughter and horse breeder, when we meet at the UCD Smurfit Business School, where she is currently completing a master’s in marketing practice; where such a strength obviously comes in handy.
Sometimes though, the problem-solving is a lot more… let’s say pragmatic.
“Because I’ve had this chair for so long, things are falling off it,” she laughs, as she glides through the college corridors.
“So you need to learn to use a vice grips and pliers. And superglue.”
The wheelchair has been part of Kerrie’s life since a farm accident at the age of six left her paralysed, but crucially it’s never stopped her momentum; whether completing her Green Cert or her current mission to qualify in archery for the Tokyo 2020 Paralympic Games.
And while reluctant to be seen as an “inspiration”, she knows it’s important to share her story to show other people what it is possible to achieve despite of – or maybe even because of – disability.
“When I look back, I wouldn’t change anything that happened to me,” she says. “It’s made me who I am.”
Farm accident
Raised on an organic suckler farm in Culmullin, Co Meath, run by her parents Eddie and Jackie, as a child, Kerrie was never happier than when she was outside; and 1 May 1997 was no different.
“I remember it perfectly,” she says, explaining that while her father was working in a different part of the farm, she went off on the tractor with one of the other workers.
Asking if she could “drive”, she was reassured that she could take the wheel once they got back to the yard where it was safer. Unable to sit still with the excitement, however, she slipped and lost her grip on the safety handle over the door, and fell out of the cab while the tractor was still moving.
“Thinking quickly, he stopped the tractor, but he thought that I was in front of it, so he reversed and I happened to have been thrown behind the wheel, so it was driven over my torso,” explains Kerrie, who remembers seeing the top of her right arm ripped open.
“I could see the ball and the socket,” she recalls; though admits that things start to become a blur after that.
What she does know, however, is that for 24 hours she could still walk before the paralysis set in, even though her spinal cord was never actually severed.
“It was a kink in the spinal cord,” she explains, “so it’s just connections not getting through.”
As a result, Kerrie was left paralysed from just below her ribs, and had to begin the process of re-learning how to do everything in her wheelchair; but even as a child, she was determined to be as independent as possible, including on the farm.
“I have my writing on paperwork from the age of 11 or 12 and doing all of the department stuff for my dad,” says Kerrie; though she was just as likely to be found overseeing dipping and tagging of animals or “standing in a gap” when duty called.
Emotional obstacles
But while the physical challenges were quickly overcome, the emotional impact proved more problematic, especially in Kerrie’s teenage years, when she had to relearn how to do everything once again following further surgery for scoliosis.
“The chair became way more problematic for me at that point – maybe because I was the only person I knew with a disability – and that was just pronounced for me,” she says.
Indeed, Kerrie explains that at that point, she felt like an “outsider” within her peer group – which was compounded by the fact that there were not many social outlets open to her in rural Ireland at that time.
A “little bit of teasing” at school also took its toll (though she is at pains to stress that she was never bullied) and she found herself withdrawing as a result.
“I would get more closed up and found myself very isolated by a situation that I had created – not that anybody else had created,” she explains.
“I couldn’t laugh things off and if I had bitten back and made it clear that I was in on the joke as opposed to being on the outside of the joke, it would have been fine; but it took a few years to figure that whole situation out.”
Indeed, she explains that her “moment of clarity” came when her classmates threw her a birthday party and she realised that she was holding herself back; not the wheelchair or other people’s perceptions.
I was lost for a few months
“I was like: ‘I’m actually the problem here: it’s not anybody else’,” she says of her turning point.
It was not the only challenge that Kerrie would have to overcome, however. After school, she began a degree in film studies, but soon realised it wasn’t for her and dropped out.
“I was lost for a few months,” says Kerrie of the lack of direction that she felt back then; but with the encouragement of her aunt, she decided to apply to work at the London 2012 Olympics and Paralympics, where an inclusion policy meant that people with a disability could qualify for a first-round interview.
Impressing the panel, Kerrie was called back for a second interview and offered a job in logistics, moving to London for the summer. Not only was it a new lease of life; it also helped to rebuild the confidence she had lost after leaving college and showed her the importance of focusing on her strengths rather than any perceived weakness.
“(Before) I was like: ‘I can’t do that, I’ve just dropped out of college, I’ve got nothing, I’ve got no qualification, I can’t apply for anything’,” she explains.
“It was just a shift in my mindset because I was looking at job roles and thinking ‘well I can’t do that, but I can do that, that, that and that,’ whereas before I would have been ‘I can’t do that one thing on that job application, so let’s ignore the rest of it because they won’t want to see me if I can’t do that’.”
New opportunities
And this shift has opened up a world of new opportunities to Kerrie; for instance, going on to complete a degree in equine business in Maynooth, which, in a way, was following in her father’s footsteps, who had been a jockey and the one-time champion apprentice before taking over the family farm.
Indeed, in her second year of college, the pair decided to buy a mare, Dorothy Parker, from Eddie’s former employer, trainer Kevin Prendergast, so that Kerrie could get hands-on experience in breeding, with one of the foals, General Mischief, sold to trainer Michael Dods in the UK and another filly, Dotty, due to go into training this year.
And while it’s early days, it’s a part of the farm that Kerrie would like to develop in the future, especially since completing the Green Cert in January; the first person to do so in a wheelchair, she believes, where her problem-solving abilities came into their own again.
I was dehorning calves and I was checking fat scores on cattle and everything
“There wasn’t any kind of re-configuring the course, so if we had to figure it out, we figured it out,” she says.
“So I was dehorning calves and I was checking fat scores on cattle and everything, so it was very much expected to do what other people had done, bar the manoeuvring tractor thing; but that’s only because I don’t have an adapted tractor.”
Kerrie also worked in logistics with Dell in Limerick prior to returning to college to do her master’s with the marketing development programme; but study, work and farming aside, she is an accomplished sportswoman; at one stage, ranking 19th in the world in para archery and also holding the Irish Student Archery Association female compound record.
Her next goal is to compete in the Tokyo 2020 Paralympics, with qualifiers in the Netherlands this June.
“At the moment, I’ve been doing a lot of visualisation, a lot of psychology,” says Kerrie, who explains that concentration is the hardest skill to master when it comes to the sport.
“I think people spend way too much time on what’s around them rather than what’s in front of them.”
No labels, no limits
And looking straight ahead, once the master’s and qualifiers are behind her, Kerrie is keen to return to the working world.
“I’m really enthused by anything agricultural-wise or anything equine-wise,” she says of areas she would like to explore, “but I’m the type of person who takes to everything, so I love trying new experiences.”
The importance of having more people with disabilities in the workplace is something that Kerrie is passionate about.
But while she acknowledges that issues like the accessibility of buildings can be a physical barrier to employment, she believes that lack of confidence is just as big a wall.
And, in her opinion, a wall that needs to be knocked by people with disabilities themselves.
“I think a big thing with somebody who has an injury or a disability, they have to put themselves out there and apply for jobs, they have to do that,” she stresses.
“It’s the only thing that normalises your situation, because culturally we’re not going to normalise your situation, so you need to normalise it.”
And with over 640,000 Irish people living with a disability, she believes that there needs to be much more positive visibility – whether it’s in advertising or entertainment – rather than just tokenism or “sob story” representation.
“Look at the UK, they have people on Strictly and they have people on Pointless and they’re doing normal things,” she says.
“So I really think that as a society we need to start doing more.”
But in the meantime, whether she’s farming, breeding horses, studying, competing internationally – or proving herself handy with the vice grips, pliers and super glue – Kerrie Leonard will be doing more than her share.
Read more
My Country Living: going for gold with Shirley McCay
A partnership of Olympic proportions
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