WHAT I’M AFTR…
I was born with a body that asked me tough questions every day. With ectrodactyly, a fused ankle, a weaker left side, & muscles that shock when asked to work too hard, I carried both the weight of challenges & an unspoken promise: to never let what is broken define what is possible.
I swam first - not because it was easy, but because water gave me freedom. For nine years, I lived in that pool, learning discipline, finding my rhythm in silence, measuring progress one second at a time. Swimming taught me grit. But it also taught me heartbreak. Missing out on Rio 2016 by fractions of a second, combined with a car accident, left me questioning my place in sport. I stepped away, but stepping away didn’t erase the dream. It simply paused it.
In 2023, I pressed play again, this time on the track. By January, I was training. By July, I was standing in a World Championship Final in the Long Jump, my very first international competition in a brand-new sport. I wasn’t just a finalist; I was the only non-amputee in the final. What seemed once impossible became real in just six months.
In 2024, I represented South Africa at the Paralympic Games in both the 200m & long jump. That sentence alone still feels surreal; to go from complete beginner to competing on the biggest stage in just over a year. No medal around my neck yet, but the true victory was proving that limits can be redefined, rewritten, & overcome.
My support system; the ground beneath my feet.
I’ve had to believe in myself, but belief alone doesn’t carry you through the hardest days. My family, my partner, my friends… they’ve been my anchor & my wings. They’ve kept me grounded when success threatened to run away with me, & they’ve reminded me to stay humble when frustration tries to break me down.
They’ve taught me something invaluable; that I can occupy any space, that I belong wherever I choose to show up. Whether that’s on a world stage or in the quiet of my own room, their belief has been a mirror reflecting back the best parts of me, especially on the days I struggle to see them myself.
2023–2024 was a whirlwind, a storm of training, competing, & adapting. And through it all, my support system created calm, tempered the chaos, & reminded me that I deserved this season, this chapter, this year of giving everything, they reminded me that even chasing what feels impossible is a milestone worth celebrating.
Progress over perfection.
If I could put my journey into one saying, it would be this: Progress over perfection.
I don’t need to be flawless, I just need to be a little better each day. That belief has carried me from my first shaky sprint to standing on the Paralympic stage. Progress over perfection means celebrating the small wins, the personal bests, the moments when I kept showing up even when my body had tried. It means understanding that the path to greatness isn’t straight, it’s built brick by brick, leap by leap.
“I’m possible.”
After my first World Championship in 2023, I came home & got a tattoo: Nothing is impossible. The word itself says “I’m possible.”
It isn’t just about believing, I’ve learned that sometimes belief needs to be quiet. Some people declare their goals; others hold them close. I fall in the latter camp. I kept my “impossible” dream quiet; to make a World Championships in 2023 & a Paralympic Games in 2024 after starting track only months earlier. People told me it wasn’t possible. But I was living proof that it was.
The tattoo marks that lesson, that sometimes the boldest dreams are best nurtured in silence, watered by discipline, & revealed only in action.
What AFTR means
That’s why AFTR matters so deeply to me. AFTR is about more than stories, it’s about archives. It’s about permanence. When we put stories like mine in an archive, we say to the next person: Your leap belongs too. AFTR means my tears, my tattoo, my races, my records. They aren’t just fleeting moments. They’re part of a legacy that whispers, if she can, so can I.
What comes next?
Even now, I’m still so new to this sport. Every day is a lesson. Every jump, every sprint teaches me something about my body, my limits, & my growth. That’s the process I love; to be a student of a sport, even while representing my country on the world’s biggest stages.
The horizon is LA 2028. A medal would be a dream, but more than that it’s about showing the world that disabilities do not confine us, they redefine us. They give us new ways to move, new ways to compete, new ways to inspire.
I hope that my journey leaves behind more than results. I hope it sparks a community. I hope it inspires someone, somewhere, to take their own leap of faith. Whether that leap lands them in sport, art, education, or life. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they leap.
Because if my journey proves anything, it’s this:
Progress over perfection, & the impossible is only impossible until you’ve done it.
— Tezna Kirstin Abrahams.
Instagram - @teznakirstinanrahams