In the winding hills of Sebastian Branch, Breathitt County, a girl was born who would later become a force for justice and compassion across Kentucky. Born in 1953 as Mary Louise Miller, Marie Braun’s life began with obstacles few could imagine. Born with quadriplegic cerebral palsy in a time and place with little understanding of disability, Marie was placed in the Old Frankfort State Hospital as a child — a cold, institutional setting meant more for warehousing than care.
It was there, in the walls of that institution, that Marie witnessed an act that would shape her for life: a staff member took the life of an infant. That memory never left her. But neither did her dream — that she would not merely survive the system, but someday help dismantle it.
Marie’s path to advocacy was born from this trauma and her yearning for more — more love, more dignity, more life. She prayed for a family that would love her unconditionally. She wished for a day she could live on her own, free from the sterility of the institution, free to love, be loved, and contribute to the world around her. That wish slowly came true.
Marie met Bill Braun in 1977 at the Ridgeview Nursing Home in Covington. Bill — himself labeled “mildly retarded” by a society too quick to judge — was a kindred spirit, a man with a quiet but unshakable belief in the rights and worth of disabled people. Together, they fell in love, married in 1980 and began forging a life of purpose and protest, joy and justice. They were often seen rolling through the streets of Covington — Marie in her chair, Bill proudly pushing beside her — challenging the assumptions of those who said they couldn’t, wouldn’t, or shouldn’t.
Bill encouraged Marie to find her voice. “You have rights, and you need to fight for them,” he told her. She listened. And she did.
After Bill’s death in 1994, Marie carried on their shared mission. She obtained her GED, earned an associate degree at Gateway Community College, and began traveling to workshops and training programs across the country, learning the tools of self-advocacy and sharing her message with anyone who would listen — and many who wouldn’t.
She ran the Northern Kentucky Disability Coalition, chaired the Commonwealth Council on Developmental Disabilities, and sat on boards, commissions, and councils that often didn’t know what hit them when Marie rolled in. She once led the mayor of Covington and city commissioners on a wheelchair tour of inaccessible sidewalks — one of them even fell out of a chair during the demonstration. Marie grinned. Change came.
Jeff Edwards, Kentucky Protection & Advocacy Director, recalled first meeting Marie through her coalition work and later traveling the country with her. “I observed her confront nursing home administrators, city managers, state officials—anyone who stood in the way,” he said. “She has always been part of my career and made me a better advocate.”
She spoke to legislators, appeared on television, wrote letters, and demanded action. Her cerebral palsy made speech difficult, but nothing dulled her message. Her power came from relentless honesty and unfiltered conviction.
In March 2004, journalist David Wecker wrote, “They signed up for committees. They were elected to the boards. They wrote letters to their congressmen, their state representative, and the mayor. They found out where various resources were, and they used them. Marie says she was an advocate before she knew she was an advocate.”
Marie was also a storyteller. In her manuscript Any Way: My Stories of Advancement and Advocacy, transcribed by her longtime friend Vickie Cimprich, Marie tells her life story in raw, human detail. From being pushed around in a banana box as a toddler to learning the names of her rights, her story is one of resilience. “Don’t let people tell you you can’t do it,” she said. “Don’t be afraid to follow your dreams.”
Marie never stopped. Even in her final days, she wasn’t worried about herself. In a final conversation with Jeff Edwards, she expressed fear — not of dying, but of Medicaid cuts, P&A funding losses, and the threat of institutionalization returning. “Who do I need to call?” she asked. She still wanted to fight.
Marie Braun passed away on May 31, 2025. She leaves behind a legacy written not just in speeches and statutes, but in the freedoms now enjoyed by Kentuckians with disabilities—freedoms she fought for when they were not guaranteed.
She is survived by her brother Leonard, her sister-in-law Mary Braun Aust, her beloved friend of nearly 60 years, Vickie Cimprich, and a wide network of nieces, nephews, and advocates whose lives she changed.
To honor Marie, we must continue her work. Call your senators and representatives. Tell them how Medicaid lets you live independently. Explain why special education must be protected. Remind them why Kentucky Protection & Advocacy exists. Be loud, be clear, and be relentless—just like Marie.
Because Marie didn’t just teach us how to be advocates.
She showed us what it means to be fully, beautifully human.
Marie Braun (1953–2025)
Self-advocate. Storyteller. Fighter. Friend.
“Disabled people are human like everyone else. They have the same wants and desires and want acceptance in society.” – Marie Braun
Robin Osborne, an Honorable Kentucky Colonel, lives in Northern Kentucky. A former business owner, she is a long-time advocate for mental health, consumer protection, foster care, and the disabled. She was a friend of Marie Braun’s.
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