Having a Disability in America

As much as I dislike the word "handicapped", I hate the word "handicapable" even more. It is sickly sweet and decidedly patronizing, like saying that someone is so many "years young."

Those of us that have a disability know what we are, and we don't need to be told that we are capable anymore than we need to be reminded that we are disabled. This brings to mind a favorite line from the episodes of The Simpsons: Homer looks at a gay man and says, "No wait, queer, queer! That's what you like to be called, right?" and the man says, "Well, that, or John."

While I cannot speak for the rest of the world, it seems strange to me that, in such a forward-thinking, politically correct American age, people with disabilities are still so often stared at, whispered about, and sometimes feared. I was born with Cerebral Palsy, and as a result, I walk with a limp. I rarely go to the mall if I can help it, because after awhile, the looks get to me. I consider myself a very confident, intelligent, and savvy woman, but after an hour or so of sidelong glances and pitying looks, I am suddenly nine years old again, being tormented by screams of, "Cripple! Cripple! Look, she's a cripple!" Believe me, I see the looks, even when you think you're doing it on the sly. Sometimes, if I get especially irritated, I try to catch the starer's eye, but no one will look at me. Usually though, I don't bother. I know people are not trying to be mean, and I know that they are just curious. It's human nature, after all, and I catch my own head swiveling on occasion, when I see someone with pink hair or lots of piercings. The difference is that I admire people who have the courage to color their hair pink and put lots of holes in their faces. It may not be something I would do personally, but I think it is wonderful when people find the strength to follow their convictions in a conformist's world.

When people look at me, it is often with pity, and in some cases even fear or disgust. Sometimes I want to stop and yell at the top of my lungs, "I have a terrific job and I get straight A's in college and I love heavy metal," or "I am smart, damn it, and funny, and crazy fun, and don't look at me like I'm a freak!"

It is hard sometimes, knowing that all too often I am defined by what I am instead of who I am. I can sympathize, on some small level, with black people and people of Middle Eastern descent, and anyone else who is victimized because of their outward appearances. Don't get me wrong, I am absolutely not paralleling my struggles with the horrors of slavery or being terrorized, but I do feel like I can grasp that feeling a little more than someone who does not have a disability. I was turned down for a job once after the employer-a dentist, by the way, an extremely educated man-looked at me and said, "Oh. You have a limp." Exit stage right. My husband calls people like him "limpists", a term that makes me smile in spite of myself.

My other huge complaint against the well-meaning but ignorant people I frequently encounter are statements like, "Oh, my, you are so brave!" Or, "I really admire your courage." I am not brave. I have been known to run, shrieking, from an insect or a diet soda, and I certainly do not have any more courage than the next girl. Being born the way I am is no different than being born with brown eyes or blonde hair. This is all I have ever known, and so I have not earned any medals for bravery or courage. Had I chosen this life and all that goes along with it, maybe then I'd be brave, but I don't think I would have had the courage for that.

One thing that most people with disabilities would like the rest of the world to realize is that we are just people like everyone else. We have hopes and fears and dreams. We like to eat pizza and go shopping, or go to baseball games and rock concerts. We might be saints, but we're more likely sinners. We're human, and that's all.

Also, do not assume that a physical disability equals a mental impairment, and do not think that a mental impairment means that a person cannot understand. Even if you think we are too dumb to notice your unkindnesses, we see them all, and we feel them all.

Lastly, and this is a big one, it is just as bad to be invisible as it is to be mocked and disparaged. Look at us. Smile at us. Talk about the weather, if that is what you normally would do. The rule of thumb is that if you would talk to us if we were "normal", then talk to us even if we're not. Ask questions, if you want to. I'd much rather someone say, "Hey, what happened to your leg?" then stare at me and look the other way when I try to catch their eye.

Being disabled isn't easy, but you know what? Neither is life. Life isn't easy for any of us, whether we have a disability or not. We're all in this together, and we all have something to offer, even if some of us have to do it a little more awkwardly than the rest.