I never expected to defend eating a protein bar mid-flight, but on a trip from Chicago to Seattle, I had to—because of entitled parents who prioritized

their child’s “sensory sensitivities” over my health. I’ve had type 1 diabetes since I was twelve, and when my blood sugar drops, I need to act fast.

As the plane taxied, I felt the crash coming—sweaty, shaky, lightheaded. Quietly, I unwrapped a protein bar. That’s when the parents

beside me asked me not to eat, fearing the smell would upset their son. Against my better judgment, I agreed to wait for the snack cart.

By the time it arrived, I was struggling. But when the parents asked the flight attendant to skip our row, I’d had enough. I spoke up

clearly: “I have diabetes. I have to eat now, or I could pass out.” The flight attendant immediately helped, and nearby passengers supported me.

That moment reminded me: standing up for your health isn’t rude—it’s essential. Just because an illness isn’t visible doesn’t

make it less real. My medical safety mattered, and I’m glad I didn’t stay silent. At 30,000 feet, clarity matters—and so does self-advocacy.