County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland
Shelley Cowan is a disability advocate, speaker, and founder of Justus, a community organization creating inclusive social spaces and opportunities for adults with disabilities across Northern Ireland. After becoming severely ill at age fifteen, Shelley spent more than a decade confined to bed, unable to walk, eat independently, or continue her education. Through years of determination, family support, and rehabilitation, she gradually regained mobility, returned to school as a mature student, and earned a master’s degree focused on accessibility and inclusion.
Today, Shelley is known for transforming personal hardship into community impact. Alongside her close friend and caregiver Tracey Farry, she advocates for accessibility, disability awareness, and connection across social and cultural divides. Together, the pair have become known for their humor, honesty, and deep friendship—building spaces where people of all abilities feel seen, welcomed, and celebrated.
County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland
“I am a mountain. And down in the valley below is all that I have overcome.”
Shelley on illness, survival, and learning to live again:
“There was 4,380 days of my life I was confined to bed. I was tube fed, paralysed, and unable to do anything for myself. So life took a very sudden change for me at the age of 15. I came home from school feeling like 24-hour flu-like symptoms. And unfortunately it wasn’t. It deteriorated very rapidly to the point that I was hospitalised for ten and a half months.
I had the best parents ever. My mum was a nurse and my dad was a building constructor. So one knocked down the house and did a bit of renovation to bring me home from the hospital. And the other one helped nurse me. She retired early. So I owe a lot of my life to my mum and dad for everything they’ve given up.
It changes everything. It was not just my teenage years that were lost, but I left school with no education. I wasn’t able to spell my name. So eventually, my mum was able to, when I was well enough, teach me how to spell again. We started with at and bat and cat. Started to count. And eventually, I got a love for learning. I went back as a mature student and ended up doing my master’s degree through voice recognition.”
Tracey (one of Shelley’s caregivers) on becoming a mother at 18:
“At 17 years of age, I had been with my partner since I was 13. And at my father’s anniversary, I said something doesn’t feel right. I realised when I was five and a half months pregnant that I was going to become a mum. I had my beautiful daughter at 18 years of age.
I was in seventh year, which is the final year of school here. I was doing my A levels. And my mum says to me, ‘You can have a couple of weeks off. But you’re going back to school and you’re going to finish the last six months.’ She says, ‘I will look after Anya at home.’
Mum took care of Anya during the day and she worked nights in the hospital. I came home from school and I looked after Anya and fed her and changed her. And when she went to bed at night, I did my prep for my final exams.
And mum says, ‘I give you one year off after your A levels. But you’ll definitely go back whether you like it or not. We’ll not have it said that your life was over at 18 years of age just because you become a mum.’
I am eternally grateful that my mum took that stance.”
Shelley and Tracey on how they met:
“I was on a night out with my daughter in Omagh and I said to one of my good friends, Julie, that we’re going to go and see this group, the Highstool Prophets. Julie was a carer for Shelly that night. And Shelley lands with Julie.
Shelley’s not a dancer. She loves music, but she likes to sit and listen. And I says to Shelley, ‘Do you mind if I dance you?’
She lifts me off the chair.
I had little or no knowledge about Shelley’s background. I swung her around, kept a good tight hold of her.
I was totally amazed because this girl came up to me and said, ‘You want me to dance you?’ She didn’t realise my balance. She didn’t realise I was just out of a wheelchair. She swung me around that floor as if she had known me all my lifetime. Most people that would have known me would have been terrified to touch me, never mind bringing me out to dance.
And from that, we danced to the Highstool Prophets, ‘This Is the Life,’ and that is our song. It was an instant connection. Honestly, it felt like we knew each other a lifetime and that was only on the dance floor.”
On religion, division, and friendship in Northern Ireland:
“Until the Good Friday Agreement in 1994, myself, who’s a Catholic, and Shelley, who’s a Protestant, we didn’t interact. We didn’t socialise. We went to different schools. Different buses were put on. There was a Catholic bus and a Protestant bus from my local village. We weren’t allowed to mix to a certain degree.
Even after the Good Friday Agreement, it took a long time for societal changes and cultural changes to come into effect. So just about 10 years ago, people started to integrate and socialise together. Ten years ago would probably just have been the starting point to me and Shelley even being considered suitable friends.
But our parents were very forward thinking. We were taught to be kind, to be respectful of everybody, no matter who you were.
It wasn’t until I was a very naïve 12-year-old coming into secondary school that I realised there was this divide. I remember saying to my mother, ‘I don’t want to return because people were shouting at each other across the road.’ I had no understanding why there were different uniforms or why things were so different.
The focus in our households was never to emphasise the divide.”
Shelley on creating Justus and turning pain into purpose:
“As a wheelchair user, I thought I had wheels and I would travel. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case. Yes, I could get so far, but I couldn’t get everywhere that I wanted. I wanted to socialise. I wanted to hear music. But I realised that everything that I wanted to do, I was still being excluded.
I couldn’t go to pubs, clubs, hairdressers because I physically couldn’t. There were narrow doorways. There were steps. If there was a lift, it wasn’t maintained. I have been told to leave restaurants because my wheelchair was too big. I have been asked to leave college class when my classmates had a vote on whether they wanted me to stay or go.
So all this accessibility and discrimination was starting to boil inside of me, and it was a passion in me that I wanted to help others. That passion became my purpose.
So I hired hotel rooms and DJs and thought, if we can’t physically go to the clubs, then the club is going to have to come to us.
We named it Justus in 2020. Now Justus is open to any adult with any disability from any culture, from any background. What we thought was just getting a group together has now become a lifeline to so many people.”
To read the introduction to this series, follow this link.
The Troubles: Finding a Path Toward Healing in Northern Ireland
To listen to our podcast, follow this link or find us on the platform of your choice.
A Peace of My Mind on Buzzsprout
Credits:
Interview and photos: John Noltner
Field production: summer interns Kate West, Sawyer Garrison, and Kaitlin Imai
Audio engineering: Razik Saifullah