Some stories don’t begin with a single dramatic event, but Mark Mathew Braunstein’s does. On what was supposed to be a joyful celebration—his birthday in 1990—Mark’s leap from a footbridge into a river wasn’t just a dive, but a plunge into a new reality. A misjudged jump left him paralyzed from the waist down. He calls it his “Rebirthday.” And ever since, he’s been navigating life as a born-again pedestrian—one crutch, one challenge, one revelation at a time.
A Moment Becomes a Lifetime
Before that fateful dive, Mark was like many adventurous souls—active, curious, and perhaps driven by a touch of ego. That day, watching swimmers plunge into the river, he followed suit, partly to impress his girlfriend, who was filming with a bulky camcorder. But in his eagerness to perform, fate intervened. A fractured vertebra led to a spinal cord injury, changing everything.
For most, such a shift could mean years of self-pity or withdrawal. For Mark, it became a mission. With his girlfriend continuing to film, he documented the painstaking journey of recovery: from crawling, to standing between parallel bars, to walking with braces, and eventually crutching along sidewalks and woodland trails. These intimate moments later aired on national television—his personal milestone turned public inspiration.
More Than Walking
Paraplegia, Mark insists, is about more than losing the ability to walk. There are four other invisible consequences, each cruel in its own way: “Shit, Come, Piss, and Feel.” These unspeakable losses form the undercurrent of his new life, robbing him not just of mobility but of private, deeply human functions.
Still, he carried on—not just surviving, but thriving. Post-injury, he remained fully employed for 23 years and used his disability as both a sword and shield in activism. His very visibility as a man with crutches became a tool for advocacy—earning him a place in movements he might otherwise have never entered.
Going to War for Weed
Soon after his injury, Mark discovered what he called a more natural remedy for SCI-related spasms and pain: cannabis. In 1996, he traveled to the Netherlands to legally obtain a prescription. A year later, emboldened and determined, he published a confessional editorial about his use of medical marijuana. It made the front page of The Hartford Courant and sparked a media frenzy.
Despite fears of arrest, eviction, or job loss, Mark doubled down. For the next 15 years, he became Connecticut’s face of the fight for medical marijuana—testifying at seven legislative sessions, appearing in major newspapers like The New York Times, and featuring on TV. In 2012, when the state finally legalized it, Mark was there, half flower child, half battle-scarred veteran.
A Rebel with a Cause
Paralysis didn’t end Mark’s activism; it refined it. Pre-injury, he engaged in what he calls “hunt sabotage”—disrupting duck hunting on the protected lands near his home. Post-injury, he continued the protest, often solo. His crutches became a powerful symbol. Arrested for his efforts in 1992, he gained public support and, eventually, policy change. By the following hunting season, hunting was banned along those waterways.
His lens also turned toward wildlife photography. Using patience, cracked corn, and a camera, Mark forged a spiritual connection with local deer. Sitting in his wheelchair brought him physically closer to their eye level—and spiritually closer to their world. Over time, he captured intimate portraits of these animals, a communion only possible because of his seated perspective.
Documenting the Undocumented
Life in a secluded farmhouse near the Connecticut College Arboretum brought unexpected insights. Along a hidden driveway, nocturnal visitors—often sex workers and clients—left behind more than trash. Over ten years, Mark began collecting not only their litter but their stories. These women, far from the stereotyped shadows society casts, opened up to him. They spoke, posed, and trusted.
With his own physical detachment from sexual life, Mark offered something rare in their world: a listener, not a buyer. He interviewed hundreds, photographed 144, and published their stories. Some of these women met tragic ends—murder, robbery, prison. Their images and voices, preserved in Mark’s work, remain a stark testament to lives often ignored.
Marking Time from a Wheelchair
Time passed, but Mark’s momentum never faltered. He reflects on how life naturally divides into “before” and “after” moments—weddings, births, deaths. For him, the line is drawn on his 39th birthday, the day his body split into what moved and what didn’t. Now 74, he observes the march of time as former classmates become senior citizens and old dreams fade.
Yet, there’s still work to be done. Mark’s gait may slow, and his memory may slip, but his spirit remains unbroken. He isn’t done keeping appointments, reading books, or conquering the quiet empires of inner life.
As he puts it, “I’ll cross that footbridge when I come to it.”
Final Thoughts
Mark Mathew Braunstein’s journey is more than a personal story of survival—it’s a portrait of purpose forged from pain. Through advocacy, art, and connection, he has turned a moment of misfortune into decades of meaning. Paralyzed in body but never in spirit, Mark shows us that sometimes the most powerful walks are taken on wheels, with courage as the only crutch truly needed.