Friday, September 26, 2014

New Gloves

80 words
1 minute read

For  the first time since high school, I've got new wheelchair gloves!  (Really, biking gloves, but they serve the same purpose.)  I'd seen a post about the good quality of these gloves in particular, and I love how padded the palms are.  Fellow manual chair users who use biking gloves for a bit of protection - seriously check these out.  Affordable, good quality and true to size.  Find them here.



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Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Kanye West Stops Concert Until He Gets Proof That Disabled Man Uses a Wheelchair

465 words
4 minute read

I've been seeing this moment circulated around a lot of social media recently, under a variety of headlines.  Some people believe it is being blown out of proportion because "Kanye didn't force the man in a wheelchair to stand up and dance," as some headlines might lead readers to believe.

However, as a disabled person, that's not what I take issue with.  I doubt there is anyone with a physical disability who hasn't been in that awkward situation where we're in a large audience and the audience is asked to stand up.  It's just one of those things we learn to deal with.  We realize that we can't and wait through the National Anthem, with our hand over our heart, hoping Lady Liberty will understand we mean no disrespect.  Maybe we sit a bit straighter, if possible, trying to convey that we respect the moment, the country, the speaker, too.

That is not the issue.

The issue is that Kanye West took it a step too far in sending a body guard out to the audience to prove that the man who didn't stand up was in fact in a wheelchair, after complaining about how long he had to wait to continue his set.

How completely mortifying.

No one should have to prove the legitimacy of their disability, especially at a public event they paid to attend.  It's hard enough for us to get to public events like concerts in the first place.  (Not saying this for sympathy but because of simple logistics.)  We have to be sure there is accessible seating available, find a vehicle big enough to carry our wheelchair (if we can't drive.)  And we have to hope that when we get to the venue, it actually is as accessible as it says it is.  Are its elevators big enough?  How about its restrooms?  Does its accessible seating have room for you and a friend or two to sit or do you all have to split up, and still try to enjoy the night?

The sad thing is, when I heard about this, I wasn't shocked.  I wasn't surprised.  Because things like this happen far too often.  This isn't about singling out Kanye West, it's about able-bodied people recognizing that they don't have the right to demand to authenticate our circumstances and the state of our bodies before their public event can continue.

How many people at that concert used crutches or a cane?  Or no mobility aid at all but for whom standing for an entire song would be utterly exhausting?  See where it gets grey?  Not all disabilities are visible.

So, next time, I hope Kanye West will simply invite his audience to stand, and leave it at that.

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Thursday, September 4, 2014

The Issue of Patronizing

343 words
3 minute read

(My sis and me on the first day of second grade)

The issue of being patronized to as a disabled person is serious and real.  I recently saw a post on Facebook where a fellow disabled woman remarked that she was sick of people calling her beautiful.  One response was apologetic, a few asked what she would rather they say, but most made sarcastic remarks, one insisted on continuing to refer to her as beautiful and one called her ungrateful.

It brought back my own experiences with similar remarks.  In second grade, I was called "so cute" (in the way that puppies or babies are) by a fellow seven-year-old classmate.  Two years later, my teacher came up with a particularly off-putting nickname for me: Princess.  Neither acknowledged my requests to not be referred to in those terms, or my discomfort at them.

So, what do we, as disabled people learn, when able people in our lives disregard our requests or our discomfort?  We learn that you, the able person and your intentions, mean more than our feelings.  I hear it all the time, and I saw it in regard to the Facebook conversation: "But I mean well!"

Maybe you genuinely believe that.

But before you defend your actions, think of this.  If a fellow able person told you they were not comfortable with language you used about them, chances are, you would listen.  Because you would receive them as whole people, who are capable of making decisions about what we want and don't want.  

If you "mean well" but refuse to listen to us and honor our requests about the language you use to refer to us?  You don't actually mean well.  You mean to keep us small.  You mean to look at us through a narrow lens.  You mean to choose to dehumanize us rather than choosing to respect us as human beings with voices and opinions.

Whether a disabled child or a disabled adult, we are all worthy of that.

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