My Little Ableist Friend

Please note that this is my post for Blogging Against Disablism Day 2011 :) Happy BADD, everyone!

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I have a confession to make.

I am an ableist.

Yeah, that's right, Spaz Girl, Miss Out-and-Proud-Disabled, Miss Cripple Power, is an ableist.

It's a dirty little secret of mine. It's a little voice in the back of my head that I carry around with me all day, and can't get rid of, no matter how hard I try. A voice that says things like "You're not really disabled.", "You're just making excuses.", "You don't need those crutches/that scooter/this accommodation/that accommodation.", "You're exaggerating your disability.", "Who knows? Maybe the doctor's diagnosis was wrong all these years and you've just been faking for the last 18 years.". It's a little devil on my shoulder telling me that I'm not worthy to be a crip.

My little ableist friend makes me feel inadequate, shamed, and embarrassed almost everywhere we go. I try to keep him gagged, but every once in awhile, he spits out the gag and starts struggling against his bonds, demanding to be free. He reared his ugly head just a few days ago, when I failed a math project that involved measuring, drawing, folding, and visualizing 3D images - all things that I have trouble doing because of my CP. When I approached the professor about it, she mentioned that I should've come to her before about it. I stood there wishing I could sink into the floor while my little ableist friend laughed maniacally on my shoulder. How could I explain to her that I didn't want to come off as making excuses on the basis of my disability? How could I explain that I had already talked to her about another project (this one involving using a drawing compass), and didn't want to be demeaned for "seeking special treatment" in the class? How could I possibly explain that my little ableist friend had convinced me that I could do it, that it really wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be?

It sounded absurd, even in my head. But that's what my little ableist friend does - he takes the absurd, fuses it with some self-doubt and shame, and twists it around so it almost kind of sort of makes sense. And if I listen to him too long, I start to believe him. He takes all my insecurities about being "mildly" disabled that have been hard-wired in me since I was little and exploits them. He makes me feel like a fraud.

It's because of my little ableist friend that I grew up alone, never knowing other people like me, never having any disabled role models, never knowing that there was a whole other world out there. My parents were duped into thinking that I was "too mild" for activities designed for disabled kids. Even when I started attending a camp for kids with physical disabilities when I was 13, I was one of the only ones with my level of mobility and independence, and I could hear my little ableist friend in the back of my head, telling me I didn't belong. I eventually silenced him enough to discover I really did belong, and the six summers I spent at camp were absolutely amazing to a level I can't describe. But every once in awhile, even at camp, my little ableist friend would return. People make assumptions based on the fact that I don't "look" that disabled, and that's my little ableist friend's ideal breeding ground. Every time someone makes an assumption about how far I can walk, how much I can stand, what (if any) mobility aids I should be using, he pops up to accuse me of being lazy and taking advantage of my disability to get special treatment.

My little ableist friend is a chorus of all the voices that have shamed me over the years for being who I am. He is a reflection of a society that worships physical strength and beauty, a society that puts labels like "brave" and "inspirational" on anyone who pushes themselves through pain and/or fatigue to walk that extra step, run that extra mile, climb that extra mountain. Well, I'm sorry, but I don't want to spend my whole life in pain, trying not to complain, knowing people will see me as weak. It's a constant battle against my little ableist friend, a battle I fight every hour of every day. It's bad enough when I have to face other people's judgments and opinions, but when I start to internalize them....that's the scary part.

I am an ableist. That is not easy for me to admit. So here I am, exposing my little ableist friend to the public, hoping that in the harsh glare of the Internet, he will wither and die. It's a far-fetched hope, I know, but hey, I can dream. Maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe you have a little ableist friend of your own. If you do, my heart goes out to you. Please know that you are not alone in this internal fight, you are not the only one fighting it. Perhaps if we band together, we can defeat our little ablelist friends together.

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BADD to the Bone!!!!!!!!

It's that time of year again, folks! Springtime, flowers, finals......and of course, BADD!!!

What is BADD? BADD stands for Blogging Against Disablism Day. Every May 1st, the awesome Goldfish hosts BADD, a collection of posts all relating to disablism/ableism in one form or another. For those of you who don't know, disablism, also called ableism, is basically discrimination on the basis of disability/ability/whatever the hell you want to call it. It's similar to racism/sexism/etc. This will be......I think my fourth year participating? Yes, four years of being BADD to the bone! Below are the links to my last three BADD posts:

2010 - Harry Potter and the Disability Invisibility Cloak

2009 - Special People, Normal World

2008 - Blogging Against Disablism Day - A Day Late!

Anyway, I'll be tweeting on Twitter (is that redundant?) all about BADD with the hashtag #badd2011 (all credit for anything BADD related goes to the Goldfish!) Follow me and share with me YOUR BADD posts! I can't wait! Hope to see you all there on May 1st!

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What I Want You to Be Aware of on CP Awareness Day

Today, March 25th, is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day. As a CPer, here are some things I want you to be aware of:

Many of the videos on Youtube dealing with CP Awareness Day focus on research. I want you to be aware that I do not want research. I do not want a cure. My body is perfectly whole just the way it is. I have had CP all my life, and I don't know any other life. For me, this is normal, and it is so intertwined with the rest of me that it would impossible to separate it.

I want you to be aware that CP is hard. I don't deny it. It is painful and yes, even saddening sometimes. But my life is not a tragedy, and I am not some tear-filled damsel in distress. I am the strong and spunky heroine of my own story, and I decide how the story goes.

I want you to be aware that CP isn't as cut-and-dried as you think it is. CP affects every person in a different way, and just because I don't fit your stereotype doesn't mean that I'm faking or exaggerating my disability. I don't want to face your misguided assumptions and accusations. Who are you to pass judgment on my life, anyway?

I want you to be aware that I have the same rights as every other human being on this planet. I have the right to go to school, to live at home, to have sex, to bear children, all rights that you have tried to take away from me. And though you expect me to be meek, passive, and perpetually grateful as you slowly strip my humanity away from me, I will not. I will fight with my last ounce of strength to regain the things I have lost.

I want you to be aware that I have a mind. I have a voice. And though that mind may not think the same way as yours does, and that voice may not speak the same way yours does, I still have a mind, and I still have a voice. I am still human - no more or less human than you are. I am not a simpering, whimpering perpetual child, nor am I an all-knowing God-like creature able to rise above any and all obstacles in my life. I am simply human.

I want you to be aware that no matter what you think, you do not have a f***ing clue what my life is like. I don't care if you have a brother, a sister, a friend, a significant other with CP, you will never know the reality of living in my body day in and day out. You do not know the pain, you do not know the joy. And for you to propose you do is simply ludicrous.

I want you be aware that I exist. I sit, I spaz, I slur, I stutter, I drool. I do all those things in your schools, your community, and your society, I do them right in front of you, though you pretend not to see. These are all things I cannot control, and I should not be made to feel ashamed for the way my body works. I should not be pressured to hide my body and "normalize" myself as much as possible. I should not have to hide my CP in order to be accepted and loved by society. If you cannot love me with my CP, you cannot love me at all. I exist - and I should not feel like a burden for existing.

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Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day: March 25

Spaz in solidarity with me, my friends. I have just discovered that March 25th is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day. This is an excellent opportunity for the world to hear our voices and realize the particular issues that individuals with CP face. I've started a campaign on Twitter - retweet #cpawarenessday to show your support and we could get some major awareness going!

Also, I was thinking of making this into a blog event. I noticed several bloggers blogged on this topic on CP Awareness Day last year - it would be REALLY cool to do a BADD-esque roundup. So...if you write something for CP Awareness Day, send it to me, and we'll have a Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day Blog Event! :D Hope to "see" you all there!

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Able Privilege Checklist

I stumbled across the Thin Privilege Checklist today and practically fell over in glee. It's perfect, absolutely perfect, and it's based on the White Privilege Checklist by Peggy McIntosh, which is equally brilliant. I found several checklists of Able-Bodied Privilege here, here and here. However, I figured I'd have a go at it. Note that my checklist is written in the second person, as in "you" this, "you" that, because I am not able-bodied and feel that it would be a bit presumptuous for me to imply that I know what it is like to be Able and have Able privilege. If anything that I say in this checklist is misinformed or untrue, please feel free to contact me and we can discuss it. So.....without further ado, here is Spaz Girl's Able Privilege Checklist!

As an able-bodied person, every day:

• You can get from point A to point B without worrying about how you are going to get there and how much energy each travel option will cost you.
• You can say "I'm tired." and not be criticized for "always being tired".
• You can get inside all buildings by the main entrance, and will never be forced to go around a sketchy back entrance or denied entrance to the building while others pour freely in and out of the main entrance.
• You can go and come as you please, without everyone and their mothers knowing the meticulous details of where you are going and what you are doing.
• You can blend into the crowd reasonably well and do not constantly feel like you have a neon sign over your head saying "different".
• You can draw, cut, and do an assortment of motor-skill related things without putting much thought into it, and your final product probably will not look a kindergartener did it.
• You can have privacy in the bathroom.
• You can do something ordinary or out of the ordinary without being called "brave", "courageous", "special" or "an inspiration".
• You can open a door without putting thought into how you are going to do it.
• You can go out in public and will not be accosted by a variety of tired, cheap car jokes scuh as "Do you have a license for that thing?"
• Parts of your body are usually not grabbed, touched, and pulled without your permission.
• Parts of your body (or extensions of your body) are not referred to as "that thing".
• You can easily step over bumps in the sidewalk, massive snow piles and other obstacles without having to have the concentration of a tightrope walker.
• You can eat without the concentration of a tightrope walker and most of the food will end up in your mouth.
• You can get your own food and carry it to your table without the concentration of a tightrope walker and will not be exhausted from the effort before even taking a single bite.
• You know that you are not considered "abnormal".
• Your mobility relies on the power of your legs, and your legs alone. As such, you will never be stranded somewhere because of a dead wheelchair/scooter battery.
• You can look into people's eyes without having to crane your neck upwards.
• You are not at the level of other people's butts.
• You can go for an interview or other professional experience without fear of being judged on your perceived ability.
• You can go out in public without being stared at and asked rude questions.
• You do not live in fear of being institutionalized.
• You are not told, directly or indirectly, that you are "too self sufficient".
• Other people do not try to speak for you and you speak for yourself.
• You are not made to feel, on a daily basis, by other people's attitudes, actions, and outside barriers, that you are not wanted and your opinion is not valued.
• You can open a magazine, watch a TV show, or look at a textbook and see many diverse people of your ability represented.
• You are not expected to be meek, passive, and perpetually grateful.
• You rarely have to accept help and charity from other people.
• It is not suggested, either implicitly or explicity, that you would be better off dead.
• You do not feel like part of a dying species.
• You can be pretty much positive that wherever you go, you will not be the only Able person.
• You are not made to feel like a bad, lazy person for not pushing yourself to exhaustion.
• In public, people talk to you, not the person you're with.
• You can be out in public with another Able person without causing a disturbance simply by the presence of two of you.
• People of your ability are usually in the majority.
• When you go to a movie theater or concert, you can sit in any seat you want.

Feel free to add more and/or ask questions if something is unclear!

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On Bullying and Disability

I'm in the middle of writing a post about my experience at this year's Reelabilities Film Festival, but the words aren't coming to me lately. And another issue has come to my attention that is much more serious and that I feel I need to talk about.


In the past week, two of my friends have been the target of nasty, cruel, disablist/ableist cyber-bullying, one on Formspring, and one on Youtube. Needless to say, THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. Although there has been much discussion about cyberbullying/bullying in the media lately, especially about bullying directed towards LGBTQ youth, there has been almost no discussion of the thousands, maybe even millions of youth that are the target of disablist/ableist bullying EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

I was bullied, both on and offline, throughout seventh, eighth, and even ninth grade. While most of the bullying wasn't strictly disability-related, I do think my disability played in a part in making me an appealing target for bullies. Bullies go for people with disabilities because there's this underlying assumption that we can't fight back. And certainly that is true to some extent. The idea of me ever being in a physical fight was (and still is) laughable. The most I could ever do is hit someone with a crutch, and the momentum of the swinging crutch plus not having a crutch to lean on would probably unbalance me so much I'd fall over. But never underestimate us, because someday, somehow, we will fight back. Just look at ADAPT and similar large disability organizations - how much change they've been able to enact, how they've fought back against obvious and latent disablism/ableism.

Some of the bullying I went through WAS disability-related, however. I will never forget one IM conversation with a classmate of mine who shall not be named. Out of the blue, she goes: "You thought you could get all the attention just because you have a disability." I was very hurt and completely shocked. I don't even think I responded to the IM, because I couldn't think of WHAT to say. I was also accused of "faking it" once. Although it wasn't to my face - because the girl was too much of a coward to accuse me to my face - I think the accusation went something like this: "She [me] walks fine, and then when people are around she pretends to fall." Once again, I was completely shocked and disgusted.

Why do people use disability as an excuse to bully people? I think because, similar to LGBTQ people being sensitive or closeted about their sexual orientation, especially in those middle school stages when admitting you're different is akin to social suicide, disability can be a sensitive spot. Our society indoctrinates people into thinking disability is badbadbad. In middle school and high school, all you want to do is fit in, and fitting in is very difficult when you get "special" accommodations. Even more difficult when you are "visibly" disabled, which is why a lot of kids with "mild" disabilities try to minimize their disabilities as much as possible. Disablist bullying reaches right into the deepest and darkest insecurities we have, the ones we'd never admit out loud when we're being crippled and proud, and says "You're not normal, and that's wrong." No matter how proud I am of being who I am, there are still my moments where I feel like a freak, and not in a good way.

Especially with "mildly"/"invisibly" disabled people and being accused of "faking it", I think that hits a particular nerve. Because I know all my life, deep in the back of mind, there's a little voice that's said: "Maybe they're right. Maybe you're just lazy, maybe you could do a lot more if you just tried harder. Maybe you could walk that extra block, maybe you could stand a little bit longer. Maybe you've exaggerated your CP all this time." So to have that voice sort of validated is never a pleasant thing. A post will be coming at some point about the unique issues those of us with mild/invisible disabilities face and how thin the line is between disabled and able-bodied is in some circumstances.

More so then any other type of bullying, disablist/ableist bullying is accepted in our society. Just like the heterosexual bias that is built into our society, there is also what can be called an "ability bias". It is assumed that everyone can (and does) walk, everyone can (and does) climb steps, everyone can (and does) drive. So disablism/ableism and disablist/ableist bullying often flies under the radar, because those with the social privilege of being non-disabled don't even consider a life that doesn't have that privilege. Words like "retard" and "cripple" (used derogatorily) don't carry the same weight, the same power, as, say, the n-word (even though they absolutely should). And because so many disablist terms are used as part of slang ("that's retarded", "I'm, like, OCD about it", "I feel so ADD", etc.), I think there's a general sense of kids-will-be-kids, and teachers and other authority figures are inclined to just brush it off. But words hurt. I know it sounds cliche, but it's true.



So what can you do if you or someone you know is the target of disablist/ableist bullying? First and foremost, speak up! Tell your parents, your teacher, your principal - whoever you feel comfortable with - until someone takes you seriously. If the bullying is occurring online, save everything and print it out. On AIM, I know there used to be an option to save your IM conversation as an .html file, I don't know if it exists anymore. If there's not a save option, highlight the whole conversation and copy and paste it into a word processing document. People will take you a lot more seriously if you have written evidence of the bullying, and it's a lot easier to show people the comments word for word instead of trying to paraphrase.



Try and avoid the bullies whenever possible (obviously). Take steps to ensure they can't bother you again. When I was cyber-bullied, I blocked the screennames of the kids who were harrassing me from my buddy list. Eventually, because of the cyber-bullying and other reasons, I created a new screenname entirely and was very careful about who I gave it out to. Only give your online screennames and usernames and whatnot to people you trust and who you know you are actually going to talk to. If people ask you for your screenname and you're uncomfortable saying no, give them a fake one, or give them an old one that you never use anymore. Delete your facebook/formspring/youtube account if you have to. You can always create a new one.

And most of all, surround yourself with positivity. As I recently said to a friend, the good people in this world far outnumber the stupid people. Surround yourself with friends and family, people who care about you and will always be there for you. When you've got that many great people around you, suddenly one or two bullies seem a lot less significant. If anyone reads this post and wants to share their experiences being bullied, feel free to comment or contact me privately at caraliebowitz@gmail.com.

And if anyone wants to head over to my friend Nicole's Youtube account, I highly encourage you to watch her awesome videos about living with a disability and leave her some POSITIVE comments for once! :)

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Looking Back On The Road Behind Me

And looking to the long road ahead. This is an essay I wrote for a friend of mine who, as part of her internship in the Disability Services Office, is putting together a booklet for high school students transitioning to college. Once I sat down to write it, it just flowed. Transition to college (and people writing about it) seems to be a theme in my life lately, and I think it might be the universe's way of telling me that things are better now and I can look back on the road behind me and talk about it now. Remember a few months ago when I said that someday I would write a post about my identity as a college student? Well...I think this might be it. Hope you enjoy!

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The day my parents left me at college for the first time, I couldn’t stop crying. Despite months, and quite frankly, years, of asserting loudly that I was sick of high school and couldn’t wait to get to college, once I actually got there and my parents were about to leave, it was a whole different story. It was like being plunged into ice cold water – I had been warned the water was cold, but once I dove in, I was utterly shocked and completely unprepared. I don’t think I can remember being as scared as I was that day ever before.

The crying continued for weeks, and then months. But in between periods of extreme sobbing, I learned some valuable lessons. Although I had theoretically been fully independent in my daily activities since my early teen years, doing everything myself, day in and day out, with no parents around to help me, was exhausting, especially since I have limited stamina to begin with due to my cerebral palsy. I have muscle weakness in all areas of my body, as well as problems with depth perception and sense of direction. All of a sudden, I was on my own. It was the little things that got me – I remember one day I spent almost a half hour trying to open a child proof cap on a bottle of cough syrup, only for my unsteady hands to send the medicine flying once I finally got the cap open. Once, I got lost in my own dorm. Getting my own food, carrying it to my table, and then eating it without spilling anything on my clothes was a daunting task. Putting independence into practice was more difficult then I had thought.

Things were also tough because I was using my motorized scooter more than ever to get around campus. Before college, I had only used the scooter on occasion, if I was going somewhere that required walking long distances. Going from someone who was fairly independent walking, to someone who was almost a full time wheelchair user, was a bit of an adjustment. All of a sudden curb cuts, ramps and elevators became ten times more important. In the beginning, I would discreetly attach myself to a group of kids who seemed to know where they were going, only for them to disappear down a flight of steps, leaving me lost again. Automatic doors were a godsend – when they were working, and most of the time they weren’t. As a result, I became very adept at opening doors from my scooter. Living most of my public life at the level of other people’s butts and waists was also interesting. Oftentimes, people wouldn’t see me, especially cashiers at a counter designed for someone standing. When they did, they would give a little gasp – “Oh!” – and nimbly leap out of the way, or yank a friend out of my path as though they thought I was intent on purposely running them over. On occasion, people absorbed in texting would fall in my lap. Unfortunately, none of the males were that good looking or we could’ve had the start to a great romantic comedy. It made for some hilarious moments, especially when I realized I spent most of my time apologizing to people who should really be apologizing to me for not looking where they were going.

Before I knew it, my first semester of college was over, and although I was still crying and homesick, I was a changed woman. I had learned many lessons, and most of them weren’t from the classroom. Two weeks ago, I came back to campus after winter break, still scared, still crying, and still reluctant for my parents to leave. But I knew more now. I knew my way around campus. I knew how to carry a tray of food without dropping it. I (sort of) knew how to open a child proof cap, and if I didn’t, I knew to ask for my medicine to be put in bottles with non child proof caps. I knew when to ask for help. In the two weeks I’ve been back, I’ve already learned some new lessons (like scooters and snow don’t mix), and I’m sure the learning experience will continue throughout my college experience. I may not be your average college student, but it’s the unexpected things that spice up life, and besides, who said being average was any fun?

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