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Boy, can I relate! When I was 19 (longer ago than I'd care to
admit), I was waiting at a busy street corner. All of a sudden,
just as the traffic light turned green, I felt me and my wheelchair
being pushed into the busy intersection! "What's going on?!"
I sputtered. "Oh," said a lady with a bewildered voice,
"didn't you want to cross the street?" "No!"
I exclaimed. "I was waiting for my friend!" "Sorry,"
she said and wheeled me back.
I
knew her intentions were good, but she was out of line. So
was your lady of the blanket. By making decisions for us,
these two women were making a false assumption: that people
with disabilities can't be in charge of their own lives and
therefore need others to take charge for them.
Is
it wrong for you to resent this myth and the behaviors that
result from it? No. In fact, I'd be concerned if you didn't
resent them. The question is: How do we respond to people
who rob us of our autonomy? The answer, I think, is closely
connected to your first question: "Why are people always
making decisions for me?"
When
that decision-making stems from well-intentioned ignorance,
I think we should respond firmly but tactfully, perhaps with
a touch of humor. You might say, "No, thank you. I haven't
needed a blanket outdoors since my second birthday!"
If the person responds politely to your statement, you might
take it one step further. "You know," you might
say casually, "many people think that wheelchair users
are ill and can't take care of themselves. I'm happy to tell
you that I'm just fine." Your words may change her life.
When
that decision-making stems from mean-spirited prejudice, I
feel entitled to get as angry as the next guy. So, if you're
behind me on the ticket line when an usher announces, "You're
not coming into this theater with that oversized wheelchair,"
better take cover!
- Chava
Willig Levy
Q: I'm
in my forties and, for most of my life, I've used a wheelchair
to get around. Over the years, I've seen (or should I say
heard) many words that attempt to describe me come in and
out of vogue. First, I was a cripple. Then I was crippled.
Then I was special. Then I was handicapped. Then I was disabled.
Then I was challenged. Then I was differently abled. My question
is: What term do you consider preferable? And, honestly, what
difference does it make?
A: If
your first question were in a multiple-choice format and the
possible answers were:
- a cripple
- crippled
- special
- handicapped
- disabled
- challenged g
- differently abled
I'd choose:
- none of the above
Why? Because I think words matter
and shape our attitudes in more ways than we'd care to admit.
Take the word "cripple." The most appropriate use
of the word "cripple" that I ever came across spanned
the front page of my local newspaper: "BLIZZARD CRIPPLES
THE CITY." "Finally!" I remember exulting,
"Someone figured out what 'cripple' means!" And
what is that? Brought to a standstill. Stopped in its tracks.
After all, according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the
Old English root of cripple is creep. I don't know about you,
but my disability - although severe - has not stopped me in
my tracks.
And in case you think my word
critique is a symptom of oversensitivity, check this out:
The dictionary defines the verb, to cripple, as "to deprive
of capability for service or of strength, efficiency, or [get
this] wholeness." Well, if that's what cripple means,
they've got the wrong customers if they think the word applies
to me or you!
Now, on the other side of the
spectrum, we've got "special." Unlike "cripple,"
"special" sounds like a compliment, doesn't it?
Not so fast! Turning to the dictionary once again, we find
"special" defined as "distinguished by some
unusual quality; especially being in some way superior."
Yes, that does sound like a compliment, but is being paralyzed,
or deaf, or blind a form of superiority, in and of itself
worthy of a compliment? I certainly don't think so. Of course,
neither is it a form of inferiority, worthy of an insult!
What we have here is a euphemism, the substitution of an agreeable
or inoffensive expression for one that may offend or suggest
something unpleasant. Well, I don't know about you, but since
my disability is neither offensive nor unpleasant, I find
the euphemism offensive and unpleasant! (Of course, the same
critique applies equally to "special," "challenged"
and "differently abled.")
This leaves us with "handicapped"
and "disabled." They are, by far, the least problematic
on our multiple-choice list. The more politically correct
word these days is "disabled," why, I'll never know.
Think about it: You turn on the traffic report and you hear,
"Avoid the Tappan Zee Bridge; a disabled tractor trailer
has caused a 90-minute delay." Now think again: You turn
on the news and you hear the political commentator remark,
"Joe Brooks may be short, fat and bald but he never let
those drawbacks handicap him in the mayoral race." The
way I see it, if something is disabled, it can't budge. If
something (say, a horse) or someone (say, you) has a handicap,
it (or you) may be working against resistance or proceeding
more slowly, but it (or you) will get to the finish line.
What about "none of the
above"? Well, if I had to fill in that blank, I would
use your very own words! Take a look at the opening sentence
of your question: "I'm in my forties and, for most of
my life, I've used a wheelchair to get around." What
did you do here? You avoided what I call definitional labels
(words that define a person) and opted for a functional label
(a word that describes how that person functions). At the
crux of all this is the difference between the verb "to
be," which defines what a person is (a cripple, special,
handicapped, disabled, challenged or - heaven help us! - differently
abled), and the verbs "to do" or "to have,"
which describe what the person does (gets around with a seeing
eye dog, walks with a limp, uses crutches, reads at a second-grade
level, communicates in sign language, etc.) or has (a disability,
epilepsy, hemophilia, muscular dystrophy, cerebral palsy,
Down Syndrome, multiple sclerosis, etc.).
A word of warning: This model
works for me, but it doesn't mean that I never use words like
blind, deaf, mentally retarded or even disabled and handicapped.
Those words are perfectly fine, as long I haven't forgotten
the person linked to them. For example:
- My neighbor, David Ross,
is mentally retarded (yes).
- The mentally retarded are
represented on our block (no).
- My boss, Cheryl, is blind
(yes).
- The blind should be hired
at our firm (no).
Honestly, what difference does
it make? Do words really matter? I look forward to your thoughts
on the subject - honestly!
- Chava
Willig Levy
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