I never thought I’d have to defend my right to eat a protein bar on a flight. But on a recent trip from Chicago to Seattle, I found myself doing just that—facing off against entitled parents who prioritized their son’s mild “sensory sensitivities” over my medical needs as someone with type 1 diabetes.

I’ve lived with T1D since I was twelve. It means I need to monitor my blood sugar constantly and act quickly if it drops too low. That’s exactly what was happening as the plane taxied. When I pulled out a protein bar, the mother beside me insisted I not eat it—claiming the crinkle, the smell, the chewing would upset her child. I reluctantly agreed to wait for the snack cart, even as my symptoms worsened.

When the cart arrived, the parents again objected to me eating, asking the flight attendant to skip our row. At that point, I’d had enough. I raised my voice and explained—loud enough for others to hear—that I had diabetes and needed to eat to avoid fainting. The attendant immediately brought me food. The parents protested, but the rest of the row backed me up.

That flight reminded me: advocating for your health isn’t rude—it’s necessary. My illness may be invisible, but it’s real. No one else’s discomfort should come before someone’s safety. And that goes double when you’re 30,000 feet in the air.