Ever tell someone you have a disability/you’re disabled and they immediately offer an apology? For many of us this happens quite often when you disclose that you have a disability and maybe there’s this accompanying puppy-dog pity look of concern that stops short of a pat on the head and a Paypal offer to your, um..charity case-looking self. Insert tight shot of mouth uttering the slow-mo, deep-voiced utterance of whatever the disabling condition is. *needle scratch* Like dance floor cleared from the fusillade of sulfur-smelling farts you let off or something. When conversations that were surfing levity turn undertow serious. A pearl-clutching concern that never, quite, pans out. Or maybe the reaction is akin to throwback rapper, Positive K’s response of “You gotta what? How long you had that problem?”
This is where you know a person has an “infirmed” but not *informed* idea from a comprehensive perspective of being disabled. Where the person lets you know right away all about their negative worldview of disability and how “awful” and “limiting” it must be. This is also right about the time when they tend to correct your self-description and “don’t see” your disability, double and triple that when other identities that don’t mirror their own get roped in the convo.
By the end of chat they may as well be talking to a chalk outline because ahem, you don’t really exist if they keep erasing and/or “overlooking” parts of who you are. They might even admit in hushed tones that perhaps a friend’s cousin, elderly neighbor who baked their favorite cakes, frat brother, father’s 3rd wife’s housekeeper, half-sister’s science teacher, etc has a disability so they “know,” what it is there, you’re “suffering” from.
You might be even be construed in their confusion as “not like” those other bitter cripples who whine and complain as they ply that saccharin-sweet lie of “the only disability in life is a bad attitude.” And since you do rather well for yourself, it must not be “that bad.” Thanks, I think.
Maybe, like me, your mind begins to wander as your eyes internally roll and antennae go up searching for an easy segue into something else but always having to be the teacher and less often the student enjoying the scenery. And maybe more often than not you run with the tired routine, half-chuckle, and count how long the exchange will last. You probably forge ahead and tell the back-handed complimenter that disability is in fact an identity-marker beyond medical diagnosis and not an indictment. That it incorporates pride, yes pride, culture, political movement, and history.
You might expound further telling them that many of us are fond of exercising creative control in telling our own damn stories from our lived experiences. We need more depictions beyond sadness and supercrip; we need to be shown in nuanced and meaningful ways across the media landscape to get absorbed into the collective consciousness. If you’re feeling especially energetic leap into letting them know that “DIS” prefix is not only “not” and “un” but has a Latin and Greek derivative meaning “duo” and “two” hence *another* way of doing and being in the world.
If you’ve gotten this far with them, by now you might be cold/hot/hungry/thirsty/need to pee/pick up lil Chris from daycare/put more quarters in parking meter, etc and just want to get on with your day and show up in the universe sans apology. You might want to hold on to your sense of humor. You’ll be needing it again soon, quite sure.