Tag Archives: ableism

The email I wish I was sending.

04 Tuesday Oct 2016

Posted by in Blog, Disability

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[CN: abusive parents, disability shaming, fat shaming, mentions of weight.]

I got an email from my mother last week, after we met for a coffee last Friday. It was the first time she had seen me using my powerchair and, looking back at the suspicious lack of comment, I guess she was saving her opinions so not to spoil the afternoon.

So the email came. Usual niceties “lovely to see you”…. then:

However, seeing you in the electric wheelchair, I can’t help feeling concerned about your well-being.

Followed by some information copied and pasted from the official EDS-UK page about how important exercise is.

I had to close my laptop before I wrote the email I wanted to reply with. It’s taken me up until now to feel like I can even write it as a cathartic exercise. I’m still not sure I’ll be able to send an actual reply without putting some sort of barb in there. Her attitude towards my newly-rediscovered mobility isn’t exactly a surprise; she has a long history of dismissive behaviour when it comes to my health, especially things which are visible. Here are a few notable examples:

  • I pulled tendons in my racket arm during a PE class when I was 13. That weekend said we could go out for a meal (a rare treat)….but only if I removed my sling.
  • A bad concussion the next year, via an accident in drama class, was dismissed with “just sleep it off”, although the school nurse had told her to take me to a doctor. I spent the weekend groggy on the sofa.
  • When I was 15 she gave my knee supports away to a friend’s daughter.

I suspect my childhood list only ends there because I stopped living with her when I was 15. I’m not even going to get started on the mental health stuff. That’s a whole other barrage of awful (“I think I’m depressed.” “Don’t be so silly.”). In adulthood it hasn’t gotten much better. I lived with her for a brief while after uni; on more than one occasion she barged into my room in the early afternoon, pulled my covers off, screamed at me to get up, to stop being such a lazy bitch. I didn’t have a diagnosis at that point, but tried to explain that it wasn’t just “being tired”. She shot back with “I’ve had two children under five, I was tired but I got up”.  In my imagination I shout “BUT YOU COULD!” after her. Now I do have a diagnosis, I’m not a “lazy bitch” anymore, at least out loud.
So here’s the email I wish I could write.

Dear Mum, 

Thank you for your email expressing concern over my newfound ability to leave the house whenever I want. However it has raised some questions for me which I hope you can answer. 

Are you embarrassed to have a disabled child? 
Because that’s how it’s coming across – that it’s fine for me to have this condition (that you never bothered learning about until you could try and use it against me like this) as long as it’s not visible to others and especially not when I’m with you.

Why the concern now? 
Was it not concerning when I was unable to leave the house for weeks at a time?
And if not, was this because at least I was being disabled out of the sight of others?

Why is my weight gain more concerning than my ability to leave the house?
(You are aware that I became exercise-intolerant long before I got the powerchair, right?)

I hope to hear from you soon. 
Love to you and [insert name of current partner],
Nina

That was far politer than I had intended. I can’t even unleash the fury on a vaguely-anonymous blog. In my head I’d made a huge list of things that were not “concerning” which had a far greater impact on me (such as when I told her my dad was physically abusive and she told me it wasn’t illegal so she couldn’t do anything) – but gain a stone and THAT’s cause for concern.

What I will write will probably be polite, terse, and contain a link to something about the detrimental effect of exercise on exercise-intolerant patients with chronic fatigue. No  questions, no accusations, maybe a “you’ve never been in my situation so stop judging me” at the worst. I wish I could send the one up there, but I’m scared of the reply. I’m embarrassed that her opinion can do this to me. Every time something like this happens I come closer to just cutting her off.

 

 

 

 

Silent stares and rude questions: the disability minefield.

15 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Blog, Disability

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We need to talk about something faced by disabled people every day: the attitudes of strangers. Not remarks, not discrimination, but the silent stares.

There’s no question that everyone gets judged on their appearance by those they pass in the streets. Something that makes you stand out will attract attention be it crutches or a strange hairstyle. I’ve been there pre-disability: bright obnoxious pink white and orange woollen dreadlocks paired with multiple facial piercings. Then I revelled in the stares (two fingers up to society? oh teenage me), but now when people look at me struggling to walk with crutches, hiding behind nothing, it feels like the stares are piercing my skin. I attract attention for the “wrong” reasons, those beyond my control, yet I feel no pride in my appearance now. There’s nothing worse than passing a chattering group of friends on the tube platform, for them to go silent, watch me pass, then start up again in hushed tones once I’m out of earshot.

On a Facebook-based support group the other day, I saw a woman ask why so many of us posting have negative or angry responses to strangers asking questions about our crutches or wheelchairs. She suggested that we should embrace the questions, and use it as a chance to educate people about a debilitating and under-diagnosed condition. This met with a mixed response from the rest of the group, and sowed the seeds of this post in my mind.
Ideally, if a stranger approached me and asked me “Excuse me, do you mind me asking why you walk with crutches?” I would give them a polite, concise but informative answer. But that is of course just hypothetical –  they DON’T tend to ask that question. I get “What’s wrong with your leg/legs?”/ “What happened to you?”/ “Aren’t you too young to be disabled?”. None of these require acknowledgement, let alone dignifying them with a response (although I did once end up getting a major charity’s entire street-fundraising team retrained in their appropriate opening gambits, of which “Woah, what’s up with your legs?” is NOT one).

And if the hypothetical polite and considerate question is asked? I am probably not in any mood to answer it. And here’s why:
I call it the Triangle Of Doubt. I experience it almost every time I go out. Their eyes go first to my crutches (disabled!), then my face (young!) then my legs (not broken!) and around again, the frown becoming deeper. Something doesn’t add up there. They try to work out which bit is wrong. Too young to be disabled? Faking? Fashion accessory? Benefits cheat? Should she be out alone?
What this mostly amounts to is I get frowned at by strangers who’ve been staring at my legs. And it adds up. I end up trying to avoid eye contact.
So, usually by the time someone comes up and asks me a polite question about disability, I have had x-number of the above microaggressions and my patience has run out.

Generally I really dislike being asked about disability when I’m out in public by complete strangers who only want to satisfy their own curiosities*, but I’m happy to educate people about Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and chronic pain over the internet, but in my own time and when I’m able to, but this is the key point: you cannot demand personal information from people and expect to be given all you want then and there. Disabled people may be dealing with chronic pain, exhaustion, and the effects of strangers’ attitudes and even politely asking could be upsetting or met with a snappy response. Consider this next time you feel entitled to approach a stranger for details of their life. Although you might be lucky and get one of the small percentage who don’t pick up on the microaggressions.

And, for the record, the correct response to “What’s wrong with your legs?” is “What’s wrong with your manners?”.

*exemption given to medical professionals because EDS is really undertaught and we often have to be our own experts and teach our own doctors!