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What do you do when life serves you a plot twist that nobody could see coming? Benveet (Bean) Gill knows. In July 2012, a virus snuck into her spinal cord and left her paralyzed from the waist down. One minute, she was walking; the next, she wasn’t. But this isn’t a sob story. It’s a lightning bolt of a tale about flipping the script, breaking molds and proving that the rules we think we live by are optional.
Bean Gill, a born-and-raised Edmontonian, has moved beyond just existing in her world—she has rebuilt it. She’s vivacious, unapologetic and magnetic, with energy that practically crackles when she speaks. “Yeah, I got paralyzed, but that’s just a thing that happened to me. It’s not who I am,” she says with a shrug, as if the entire medical event were as mundane as losing a sock in the laundry.
But there’s nothing mundane about what happened. The paralysis affected her legs, but it handed her a challenge—and she’s the kind of person who answers those with gusto.
First victory: Wiggling a toe
Bean was an x-ray tech before her injury, raking in six figures and living a life fueled by paychecks and pleasure. “I made a lot of money and lived a very nice life,” Bean shared. “Whatever I wanted, I bought.” But after paralysis threw her financial and physical independence into chaos, she had to rethink everything. Her first victory? Wiggling her big toe.
“It’s wild,” she says, recounting the months of effort that went into moving one tiny part of her body. “You don’t realize how powerful something so small can feel until you do it.” That wiggle was her proof that recovery was possible—slow, sure and anything but linear. She leaned into the process, day by day, until her body started listening to her brain again. Movement returned, not symmetrically or dramatically, but like puzzle pieces slowly snapping into place.
“One of the misconceptions of paralysis I want to squash is that once you’re paralyzed, you can’t feel anything, you can’t move anything,” Bean said. “While this is true for a small percentage of cases, most people with spinal cord injuries can actually move and feel below their level of injury and recovery can and does happen. And what mine looked like specifically is it started with me wiggling my big toe on my right foot.” That small movement became a pivotal moment, proving that progress is possible. Over time, her body began to reconnect, piece by piece. Even more than a decade later, her recovery continues, driven by persistence and a belief in what’s achievable.
Introducing ReYu: A revolution disguised as a recovery center
Bean realized the world needed to see what was possible when you stop underestimating the human body. That realization took shape and became ReYu Paralysis Recovery Center, a nonprofit she launched in Edmonton. ReYu isn’t your average clinic. It’s a place where paralysis meets possibility every day. It’s science, sweat and a refusal to believe in the word “can’t.”
Inspired by her own recovery and a game-changing visit to an activity-based therapy center in California, Bean came back to Edmonton determined to create something similar. “When I rolled into that facility, it was the first time I didn’t feel like I had a disability. It was like, ‘Oh, this is where I belong.’” That sense of belonging was something she wanted to replicate—and expand upon.
Since opening its doors, ReYu has welcomed over 400 clients, ranging from kids to seniors, all with neurological conditions. They come for recovery, but they leave with something bigger: confidence. At ReYu, kids take their first steps after doctors said they never would. Adults regain mobility and ditch wheelchairs for walkers. It’s not about miraculous transformations but about hard work and relentless belief in progress.
Breaking the confidence barrier
Bean doesn’t mince words about the challenges people with disabilities face—not just physical ones, but the psychological walls that society loves to build. Confidence, she says, is the real game-changer.
“When you feel good about yourself, you’re unstoppable,” she explains. “You’ll apply for that job, go out to eat with adaptive utensils, or ask someone out without second-guessing yourself. That’s the real win.”
And it’s not only clients who leave with a different mindset after sessions at ReYu. Volunteers and able-bodied visitors walk away transformed, too. Bean loves to challenge them to try navigating life in a wheelchair, if only for a few minutes. It’s not long before they see the cracks in a world built for a narrow definition of ability.
Fun is mandatory
If Bean has a personal philosophy, it’s this: fun is non-negotiable. “If I’m not having fun, what am I even doing?” she asks, half-joking but also completely serious. Fun isn’t an escape from the hard stuff—it’s how she powers through it. Whether she’s throwing a birthday bash for ReYu (yes, they celebrate it like a person) or organizing wheelchair washes for the community, she injects joy into every corner of her work.
One of her favorite events? The 5K Walk, Run, and Roll. It’s a fundraiser with a twist: able-bodied participants are encouraged to complete the route in a wheelchair. “You think it’s easy until you hit the first hill,” Bean laughs. “Then you get it.”
Pushing the narrative
Bean’s reach extends beyond ReYu. She’s also the star of Push, a CBC Gem docuseries about her life and the lives of her “wheelie peeps.” Over two seasons, it peeled back the curtain on the realities of living with disabilities, mixing humor, heartbreak and raw honesty. The show wasn’t renewed for a third season, but its impact was seismic.
“Parents of kids with disabilities have told me, ‘Now I know my child has a bright future,’” she says. “That’s why we did it. That’s why it matters.”
What’s next for Bean?
The horizon for Bean Gill is always expanding. ReYu is growing and Bean is also diving deeper into keynote speaking, sharing her story and shattering stereotypes on stages across the country. She’s also cooking up ideas for new media projects, always looking for fresh ways to educate, inspire and entertain.
But no matter how big the vision gets, her roots stay planted in the same belief: inclusion isn’t some lofty ideal. It’s the only way forward. “If we’re separating ourselves because of how we look, move, or think, we’re all losing. That’s not humanity; that’s fear. And I don’t do fear.”
Wiggle your toe
What do you do when life pulls the rug out from under you? If you’re Bean Gill, you wiggle your toe. Then you wiggle something bigger. Then you get out there and shake the whole world. Because sometimes, the smallest moves can change everything.
