At the margins of moral personhood.

Sesha would never live a normal life. . . . The worst fear was that her handicap involved her intellectual faculties. . . . Yet . . . it never even occurred to me to . . . think of her in any other terms than my own beloved child. She was my daughter. I was her mother. That was fundamental. . . . We didn’t yet realize how much she would teach us, but we already knew that we had learned something. That which we believed we valued, what we—I—thought was at the center of humanity, the capacity for thought, for reason, was not it, not it at all. (Eva Feder Kittay, Love’s Labor, 150)