Inspiration Without Inspiration Porn

First read this …

Young Woman's Treatment Of Disabled Vet At Walmart Goes Viral (Photos)

Charles Roberts, America News - November 11, 2015

… and marvel at the stunning insensitivity it took for this woman to congratulate herself for doing a good deed, after “stubbornly” overruling a disabled veteran who said several times he didn’t need or want her help, and forcibly helping him anyway. It takes a lot for a news item to stun and offend me personally, but this one had me swearing aloud to my iPhone.

Now read Dominick Evans’ terrific blog post about the story:

Inspiration Porn Is Out Of Control

Dominick Evans - December 16, 2015

Yes, it’s “Inspiration Porn” again. Why are we so bothered by people who are just trying to be kind? Why won’t we leave it alone?

Because it keeps happening, it’s genuinely disturbing, and people keep finding ways to make it even worse.

Still, I hate being a sourpuss. Just because I loathe sentimentality, doesn’t mean that all sentiment is wrong. Just because I don’t exist for your inspiration, doesn’t mean it’s wrong to feel inspired by whatever happens to inspire you. The alternative to Inspiration Porn isn’t gross negligence, like stepping over a disabled man choking to death in a McDonalds. There are decent, acceptable ways to be decent, kind, and helpful to disabled people.

Can you do a "good deed" for a disabled person without offending them?

Is it possible to do inspirational stories about disabled people without being smarmy and condescending?

Yes and yes!

First ask, "Can I help you?", and then respect the answer. And if the answer is "No thank you," or even just plain "NO!", don't take it personally. How each disabled person answers depends on many factors. I’m not often asked if I need help. When I am, I usually say, “No thank you, I’ve got it” because I’ve got it. Sometimes I say, “No thanks,” then pause a moment, survey my situation, and say, “Actually, yeah, that would be great, could you …?” and then I tell the person exactly how they can help. Sometimes, I say, “Yup!” right away, and hand them the whatever that I’m trying to carry while inching my way down some stairs. The point is, it’s fine to ask, I call the play, and the only really offensive thing is if you don’t listen to my answer.

What about pictorial depictions of bravery, kindness, perseverance, inspiration, like Facebook memes or YouTube videos?

Never snap a photo, never shoot a video about a disabled person without the disabled person's consent. It doesn’t matter that you admire the thing you are depicting. It doesn’t matter that you do it to make people happy or uplift them, or teach them a lesson about gratitude. What matters is the result, and if the disabled person isn't on board with the situation or being used in your little morality play, any good you think you’re doing will be undone.

Above all, make sure the disabled person has a voice in the story or scenario or whatever it is you’re focused on. If you write about an actual, named, identifiable disabled person, ask the disabled person to comment and include what they say. You’ll discover pretty quickly whether they think the situation is amazing and remarkable, or pretty standard and nothing to crow about. And that should be your guide on how to think about it, too. Follow the disability rights movement motto: "Nothing about us without us."

If you focus on a disabled person overcoming adversity, ask questions about that adversity and why it is there. Stories of individual courage and character are uplifting, but disability discrimination and hardships don't happen in a vacuum. The problems disabled people face usually come from or are made worse by the bad choices and neglect of actual people and institutions that should be challenged. Battling institutional ableism doesn’t translate so easily to cute Facebook posts that make people go, “Awww!” but that’s part of the point. And anyway, fighting discrimination IS inspiring!

Finally, remember that not every disabled person craves "going viral." Most disabled people just want to get on with life. Believe it or not, many of us strongly prefer anonymity! Most importantly, we all want to be treated as people, with three full dimensions, unique points of view, and complex feelings, not cardboard cutouts employed to symbolize abstract values, or tools to make you feel swell and become Internet-famous.

But what if I can’t follow all these conditions and still tell my story?

Simple … just don’t tell the story! Sometimes, a little restraint is the best, most uplifting gift of all.

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

We Alone Are Not Enough

I caught a glimpse yesterday of something going on with well-known disability activist and scholar Mia Mingus, something about having to do with air travel. I didn’t dig into it though until this afternoon.

It takes a lot really of nasty ableism to truly piss me off. This is partly because I’ve had disabilities all of my life, partly because of 20+ years in the Independent Living Movement, and partly from my more recent blogging on the subject.

It takes something really outrageous to shock me, and that sort of blunts my outrage.

But this kind of thing cuts through all the world-weary cynicism. It’s so stupid, so humiliating, and so unnecessary. Read all about what happened in this collection of Tweets, assembled by Alice Wong of the Disability Visibility Project. I’ll have a bit more to say at the bottom.

There’s a lot in these Tweets that goes beyond disability issues into even more fundamental issues of racism and state power. I feel a little less qualified to comment on those aspects, thought they are definitely there, and the incident itself carries all of the key hallmarks of ableism.

First there's the institutionalized stupidity of a system that probably has safeguards to prevent this kind of discriminatory targeting, but either can’t or won’t actually implement them. I suspect the individuals involved have far too much power and discretion to act on their personal views of disability, (or whatever else bugs them in the moment), and not enough oversight.

Second, there is the fact that people who must meet far more disabled people than most people do in their jobs still think a gel seat cushion in a wheelchair is some kind of weird, mysterious, unknown thing. This is an airport in Oakland, California, associated with one of the most disability-aware metropolitan areas in the United States. You’d think they would have met travelers in wheelchairs with gel cushions before. They are pretty standard components of wheelchairs for people who use them long-term.

Third, I really think a big part of this is what Mia mentioned about experiencing much less hassle when she travels with others. People in wheelchairs especially, are informally required to have someone else there to sort of “vouch” for them, in any situation where authorities are involved or observing. This is a fundamental part of ableism … we alone are not sufficient. We can be admirable, inspiring, plucky, resourceful … but someone’s always wondering where our keeper is, you know?

Now, I have never experienced anything like this, and I travel almost exclusively alone. However, I only fly about once a year, maybe. And for the last ten years or so, I have packed my ventilator … a medium-sized box of of indeterminate purpose with electronics involved … in a suitcase. I check it as luggage. I usually find one of those TSA slips in the case that says someone has opened it and snooped around, but it's never caused a problem. But a gel cushion seems pretty harmless to me, too. Why did they pick on that?

And why didn’t they just accept Mia’s explanation? Again, we go back to the fundamental issue … we alone are not enough.

Who is with you? Is there someone here who can help you? If you're this dependent on your equipment, wouldn't it be smarter to travel with someone? It's not our job to solve your problems you know!

I hope the TSA is forced to give a public explanation for how they treated Mia and what they did to her property. I hope they reimbursed her very quickly for her substantial financial loss. An unequivocal directive that wheelchair cushions are fine would be good, too. And, sad to say, a firing or two may be in order. Institutional ableism aside, sometimes it really does come down to an individual with too much power, who just won't budge in their thinking.

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

Inspiration Porn: High School Gestures

I am still working on a sort of master post on Inspiration Porn, but I want to take another detour to talk about a subset of this loosely defined phenomenon. I'll call it High School Gestures, referring to three practices that have become popular in American high schools and a familiar trope in "feel good" media:

1. High school students electing a disabled student to be Prom King or Queen.

2. Organizing and hosting "special" prom events, specifically for disabled students.

3. Allowing a disabled student to "run a play" with a sports team.

Three key factors make these practices a type of Inspiration Porn:

1. They are all intended to be “good deeds” for people assumed to be stigmatized and unable to make satisfying social lives for themselves.

2. Media coverage of these events almost always focuses on the kindness of the organizers, relatively little on the disabled individuals these events are supposed to benefit, and not at all on the stigmas and barriers disabled students face every day in their effort to participate in school social life.

3. The events are often further interpreted as encouraging signs that "the kids today" may not be going to Hell after all ... the premise being that on every other day it seems like they are, an unfair and insulting idea in itself.

Labeling these kinds of events Inspiration Porn obviously indicates that I have problems with them, and I do. They are usually well meaning, but contrived and, in a sense, fake. I worry that later in life, some of these disabled youth will look back on these “feel good” events and and cringe at how patronizing they were, and wonder how they allowed themselves to be treated as objects of pity and charity. No matter what the specifics, these events are almost always reported in the same sentimental way, so that even when a specific event is really sincere, it still comes off as weepy Inspiration Porn. The worst thing, in a way, is that these are usually “one off” gestures that benefit one especially loved disabled person, while most disabled kids are unaffected.

Let’s be clear. An unstated premise of these gestures is that “normal” high school social rituals are inherently exclusive and off-limits to most disabled students. That is the problem, and these flashy gestures don’t do much to change the situation. It’s like giving a box of extra-tasty chocolates, just once, to starving person, instead of what they need, which is a reliable diet of nutritious food.

In addition, a lot of disabled people themselves find these kinds of practices truly vile and offensive, in a very personal way. And I think it’s important to emphasize that this feeling is real, not intellectualized or theoretical, or deployed merely for rhetorical purposes. And no, it doesnt matter that the intentions are good. We feel it like a gut punch.

On the other hand, I have started thinking that the acts themselves aren’t always so terrible; it’s the way they are reported that makes us gag. In a couple of cases about prom court elections, it seemed like the students sincerely voted for people they genuinely liked, almost without reference to their disability. It's just that the media covered it like it was a charitable act. Still, one or two isolated examples just don’t go far enough when the majority of disabled students are entirely left out of extracurricular activities and social life.

Instead, I would prefer schools to discourage these types of grand, benevolent gestures, and instead take up the long-term and less immediately gratifying job of removing barriers to a full social life for all disabled students.

How? Here are some ideas:

1. Schools should support a wider variety of extracurricular activities, besides the prom and the the most popular sports programs. "Schools should support" means school district taxpayers should demand and agree to pay for more diverse, robust social options that appeal to all kinds of students, including those with disabilities.

2. Schools should create clubs and organizations that are associated with the top sports programs, but serve peripheral support functions and can accommodate non-athletic participants. It's unrealistic to think that chess club, theater companies, and community service groups are ever going to be as popular as football and basketball, so let's create and recognize some real support roles that disabled students ... and other non-athletic students … can play.

3. Make it absolutely clear that all students … including those who don't have dates and just want to go and have fun … are welcomed to attend all of the proms, formals, and other social events. The long term goal here might be to permanently de-emphasize the "coupling up" aspect. Also, it would help to downplay the most expensive aspects, like tuxes, gowns, and limos. Don't ban them, but don't glorify them.

4. Instead of charitably giving awards and honors to disabled people who would probably not qualify under ordinary circumstances, create a wider variety of awards and honors that are honest and real, and which disabled students (and others) can more frequently earn without anyone having to make a “special” effort.

One argument against these suggestions might be that they shortchange students on learning valuable lessons about kindness and generosity. For one thing, that's like saying that we need people to be in poverty so that everyone else can learn to be generous. I would also counter that there are much more important lessons to learn about respecting and including all kinds of people and normalizing those values, rather than treating ordinary decency as some kind special gift that privileged people occasionally bestow on those deemed “less fortunate.”

In short, a little less “Make-A-Wish” and a lot more commitment to deep integration and equality. That’s what we should be shooting for. It’s harder to accomplish, but the long term benefits are far greater than the fleeting results of one or two big, short-term gestures per year. And although wholesale culture change sounds like a near-impossible task, these specific steps in that direction are eminently achievable.

We have to insist on it, not just for our disabled students, but for all of them.

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

Grace Period

How much time do you allow for people to catch up with new developments in disability language and ideas?

When I started out working in Independent Living, "crippled" was inexcusably insulting, unless used in a joking, in-group way among disabled people. "Handicapped" was just barely out date, but still very common; our general approach was to correct it kindly and patiently. "Person with a disability" was the ideal, and using it marked you as someone with a strong, progressive disability consciousness.

Today, 25 or so years later, hearing "handicapped" hurts to hear, and marks a person as hopelessly out of date. "Person with a disability" is in rough parity with "disabled person," but terminology is evolving fast towards "disabled person." Person First Language is in roughly the same position today that "handicapped" was 25 years ago. Some people honestly see it as an improvement over what came before, while others have left it behind. Advocates for Identity First Language give strong, passionate arguments in its favor, but say that they respect disabled people who still prefer to call themselves "person with a disability."

I see the same kind thing in disability-related thinking and practices. 25 years ago, most everyone agreed that large institutions were terrible for disabled people, and all but a few forward-thinkers viewed group homes as a progressive alternative. Sheltered workshops were generally viewed positively in the wider community, and were only beginning to be seriously questioned.

Today, I would view anyone who thinks group homes and sheltered workshops are awesome as well behind the curve, though I'm not sure yet that we are at the place where belief in these models can be fairly called shameful. I guess it depends on who I am talking to ... a random person in the community or someone familiar with disability issues.

On the other hand, people still talk about accessibility standards and the ADA like they are new requirements, even though the ADA just turned 25 and the first accessibility standards were published in the late '60s. And "inclusion" in schools, or, as we used to call it, "mainstreaming," is still often debated as if we are still pondering a new approach, when it's been the standard goal for education since the early to mid '80s ... at least on paper. To me, it's long past time for literally everyone to be on board with these things.

I think 25 years makes a pretty good grace period. If your thinking and practices around disability are older than that, I don't have much sympathy. But if you're still a little behind by, say, 10 years, we can talk.

How long is your grace period for social change?

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

Questions About Inspiration Porn

Wright State Student with Cerebral Palsy Welcomed Into Sorority

Kelly May, Fox 45 - September 29, 2015

I am working on a definition of Inspiration Porn to beef up what's in Wikipedia, and maybe add to the Urban Dictionary. It's taking longer than I thought, so until I finish, here are a few questions:

1. How much of the problem with Inspiration Porn is its tone and message, and how much is about how the disabled subjects are included or excluded? Which is more of an issue, the content or the method?

I think we tend to assume that when disabled people are more fully involved in news stories and other media projects about disability, then the messages will be better because of their involvement. I'm not sure that's true. For instance, this article about a college student with Cerebral Palsy joining a sorority seems to have her full cooperation, yet it still feels like Inspiration Porn. If, as everyone in the story says, Lauren's inclusion isn't unusual or subject to any special circumstances, then why is it a news story?

2. Would this story be more newsworthy if the reporter had asked some more probing questions?

For instance, is Ms. Reder's admission to a sorority a first? Is it rare? Or, is it fairly routine at this university? If it's a first or very rare, why is that? If it's quite common, how does that compare with similar houses at other universities? How many disabled students participate in rush, compared with the non-disabled student population? Are certain kinds of houses more or less likely to include disabled students? How do these patterns and practices compare with other kinds of diversity?

Or, if they really wanted to make this a personal story, how about asking why Lauren wanted to join a sorority? Why this one and not another? Did she plan to rush, was she invited, or was it a spur-of-the-moment thing? Will she live in the house, and if so, is it accessible enough?

3. How did this actually become a news story? Did a reporter hear about it and decide it would make a great human interest story? Did the sorority's leadership initiate reach out to the TV station? Was Lauren an enthusiastic or reluctant participant? Does she have any concerns about how her story is being told and interpreted?

4. I am a bit confused about the role of news worthiness in identifying Inspiration Porn. We criticize stories and memes that suggest something a disabled person does is remarkable, because we rightly say that should be unremarkable. At what point do we stop noting a thing that is rarer than it should be, because calling attention to it somehow reinforces that rareness? Or, is this actually part of a different argument over whether to focus on individual moral qualities or on just and unjust policies and practices?

Basically, I'm trying to figure out whether Inspiration Porn ... which let's admit, we are all defining on the fly ... is a binary thing, or is it a blurry continuum? There seem to be a lot of borderline cases that may or may not be fairly termed Inspiration Porn, and since it's a pretty harsh criticism, I feel like maybe we should firm up our definition a little.

More to come ...

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

Access or Awareness?

'Standing out' as a disabled foreigner in Japan

BBC Ouch: Disability Talk - September 3, 2015

The always excellent Ouch: Disability Talk podcast from the BBC recently spoke to three people with cerebral palsy who live in Japan, about what life is like in Japan for people with physical disabilities. All three live in Japan by choice, having moved there from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada. All three love living in Japan. They specifically praised Japan's accessibility and plentiful transportation. All three said they have much more freedom and mobility living in Japan than they ever did at home.

On the other hand, while they cited the fundamental hospitality and friendliness of Japanese people, especially towards “western” visitors, the expatriates all spoke of encounters with Japanese culture's explicit and unashamed ableism. Disabled foreigners are treated well, because Japanese people love guests and find westerners fascinating. Disability, however, is widely and openly viewed as ugly and embarrassing … an unsightly disruption to the smooth, calm exterior appearance of a deliberately conformist society. While ableist discrimination happens everywhere, in the US, UK, and Canada, there is at least a general agreement that disability discrimination is wrong, something to be frowned upon, hidden or disguised. In Japan, disability discrimination is considered natural and more or less logical. For instance, in Japan, it’s considered perfectly fine to deny a job to a wheelchair user, for no other reason than that a disabled person might be disruptive and upsetting to others.

I am fascinated that all three of the disabled people interviewed clearly love living in Japan, and feel that the country’s better, more accessible infrastructure more than compensates for the society’s often stunning lack of “disability awareness.” This has implications for the long simmering debate within the disability community between two apparently competing priorities: accessibility vs. awareness.

People who focus more on accessibility and other systemic justice issues say that if our infrastructure and laws are good for disabled people, then peoples' individual prejudices won't matter so much. Others argue that ramps and non-discrimination laws by themselves don't bring true equality, which depends in the end on how well people understand and accept disability.

My own perspective has always been on the accessibility side of the argument. If I had to choose, I would prefer a more accessible community that is less understanding, to community of compassionate people "aware of" disability, but full of physical and systemic barriers. The three people interviewed seem to agree, but I wonder if they will still feel the same in a few more years. What if the novelty of excellent accessibility wears off, while the persistent ignorance of neighbors and colleagues grinds away at your soul? Living in a wheelchair-user's paradise might not be as great as it seems to be at first.

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

Disability Arts

Cheryl Green, disability activist, artist, and co-host on my Disability.TV podcast about Glee, asked me to help spread the word about a new independent film called Becoming Bulletproof. It is a film in which disabled people participated at all levels of production, including playing most of the key acting roles. It has already won some film festival awards, and based on what I see in the trailer, it looks like a really, really good film. Click here to find out where you can see “Becoming Bulletproof."

It’s a bit of a departure for me to feel excited about a disability arts project. I’ve never been interested in disability arts. There are several reasons for this.

For one thing, I have an aversion to programs of any kind that are just for disabled people. Disability arts programs tend to look at first glance like segregated therapeutic programs that just happen to use art as their hook, rather than arts programs per se. It’s much more complicated than that, but I’m only just starting to realize it.

Also, I’m usually not fond of art that has some obvious external purpose. For instance, I don’t like highly politicized art. I am all for art that deals with political and social issues, but I prefer it to be subtle, natural, not driven into my head with a sledgehammer. When disability art isn’t explicitly therapeutic, it tends instead to attempt some very heavy ideological lifting.

Finally, I’ve always been skeptical of amateur and DIY art. I am sure there are great poets to be found at poetry readings, and I’ve seen a few performance artists who really impressed me, but I cringe at the thought of attending those kinds of events, because I guess I don’t have the patience to sit through something mediocre or ragged.

(By the way, I am painfully aware of the hypocrisy of an amateur blogger and podcaster disdaining amateur art).

This is where my internalized ableism comes in. I am ashamed to say that in the past at least, I have tended to equate “disability arts” with low-quality art … as if arts programs for disabled people necessarily produce bad art, uplifting for the artist perhaps, but not interesting to most audiences, including me. Put another way, I have assumed over the years that experiencing disability art is about doing some thing nice for the artists.

That’s why I am so excited by “Becoming Bulletproof.” Although it is integrated, with both disabled and non-disabled people involved, it does have a disability-related mission aside from art. Yet, it looks like everyone involved worked really hard to do everything really well, to entertain audiences, not just to satisfy themselves or have a meaningful experience. Whatever else the film accomplishes, it looks like it is a good, fun, well-made film … full stop. When I watch this film, it will be because I want to see it, not to support some kind of cause.

I can’t wait to see the whole movie, and I think it’s obviously long past time for me to explore disability arts with a more open mind.

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast] [Support]

“Inspiration” Without The “Porn"

There was quite a lot of discussion last week among disability bloggers and Facebookers about a viral video showing a restaurant employee “feeding” a physically disabled customer.

While newspapers and TV stations all over North America reported it as an unambiguous “good news” story, most of the comments from disabled people ranged from head-shaking to outrage. On one level, it was a simple reaction to standard “Inspiration Porn.” Inspiration Porn is that thing where someone writes a news story or posts an “inspiring” photo or video involving a disabled person, something clearly meant to make us go, “Awwww,” and appreciate bravery, persistence, or kindness, preferably without asking awkward questions about context.

On another level, this particular video raised very specific questions about privacy and objectification. Who is this disabled woman? What is her name? Did she know she was being filmed? If she had known, would she have been okay with the video being publicly posted and then going viral? Was she happy with how the employee was helping her, or did she have some other solution in mind? And, who is the customer filming the scene? Did he or she think for a moment about how the disabled woman might feel? Did they introduce themselves to her and ask her permission to film her and present this bit of her life in order to “inspire” millions of strangers? Is it possible a severely disabled person might have mixed feelings about being looked at in this way?

Of course, these questions provoked their own perplexed, angry responses from people who apparently felt cranky disability activists were raining on a parade they had been enjoying immensely. Why do people have to put a sinister spin on a rare “good news” story? Why are disabled people so angry about stuff like this? Aren’t they always asking retail staff to help them? The world is such a nasty place, and this is a nice story. Lighten up!

I have been thinking for awhile that we need to come up with a way to allow some cultural space for people who really love and crave “inspiration”, while keeping it from becoming “Inspiration Porn” that insults disabled people and sends ableist messages about disability.

Maybe we should make a checklist for would-be filmers, meme-makers, and reporters thinking about using disabled people as their subjects:

- Is the disabled person a willing participant in the story, video, or photo?

- Does the disabled person have a voice in the finished product … something relevant to say, in their own words?

- Is the disabled person credited by name? Does the piece include include any contact and background information about the disabled person, if they want it included?

- Does the finished product include enough accurate information on the situation and disability to put the scene or incident in context?

- Who is the “hero” of the scene? Are they doing something truly remarkable, or interesting only compared to very low, possibly insulting expectations?

- If you were the disabled person in the finished product, how would you feel about it?

- Consider how the disabled person might actually feel, not how you think they should feel.

If you look at this list and think, “Who’s going to be comfortable with all that?”, then that should tell you something about Inspiration Porn. If what you’re doing can’t pass these simple tests, then maybe the world doesn’t need your inspiring creation right now.

On the other hand, I think this list might be reasonable enough to allow a few disability-related photo memes, videos, and news stories of the “inspirational” variety to satisfy peoples’ apparent craving for such things. I think it’s worth noting, too, that some disabled people feel good about inspiring others, and actually spend time and creativity doing so through videos, photo memes, blog posts, and the like.

The key difference is that those are messages from disabled people, in which disabled people are active participants with human voices and points of view, not nameless objects on which others project their feelings.

----------

[Facebook] [Twitter] [Podcast]

Notable Tweets

Student carries disabled friend to school every day for three years so he never misses a class http://t.co/nwvCDBuFxS pic.twitter.com/YPjNt23iAB
— The Independent (@Independent) April 26, 2015

don't be inspired by this, be pissed off no one else has provided this person w independent mobility to get educated https://t.co/DbF9ay1KIt
— Zara (@zaranosaur) April 26, 2015

I found these in my notes from last week. I saved them because together they explain why "Inspiration Porn" is bad. It's not just because it implies most disabled people are pathetic. The real problem is that by highlighting personal virtue, Inspiration Porn distracts from the unjust and entirely changeable situations that make such virtue necessary. Recognizing this takes nothing away from the individuals being virtuous by the way. In the absence of justice, a bit of one-on-one kindness and sacrifice is better than nothing. But let's not mistake them for solutions.

REALLY!?!

Ableism is complex, if you want to dig into it, but maybe our response to it shouldn't be. Instead of tweeting and blogging at length about the roots and subtleties of othering and objectification, maybe we should take a tip from Seth Meyers and Amy Pohler's SNL Weekend Update bit, and just say, “REALLY!?!"

Try it!

We can't afford to put in a ramp. We hardly ever see handicapped people around here anyway. REALLY!?!

I'm sorry, we didn’t have time to make large print copies. REALLY!?!

What will she have to drink? REALLY!?!

I don't think of you as disabled! REALLY!?! 

Complete stranger says, "I just wanted to tell you that you won't be like this when you're in heaven." REALLY!?! 

If I ever become that disabled, I want ‘em to just pull the plug! REALLY!?! 

We should go back to putting people in institutions. It’ll be fine. We’ll make them nicer. REALLY!?!

Note on your windshield: "Hey handicap! … You want pity go to a one leg support group!" REALLY!?!

Complete stranger takes photos of a group of disabled people in a mall food court. REALLY!?!

Seriously, I like this because one of the key questions about ableism is whether or not people know they’re being ableist. Conventional wisdom says that most of the time, people don’t know. I have come to think the opposite. I think most people know on some level that what they are saying is wrong. They may not know exactly how, but they know it.

So “REALLY!?!” can be a powerful wakeup call prompting a moment of self-reflection. When spoken by a disabled person, it also signals, “I noticed,” which is another important thing. People say and do ableist things because they think nobody will notice. At the very least, we should make it clear that we are paying attention, we do notice, and it’s not okay.

Best of all, “REALLY!?!” isn’t so much outraged as baffled. Instead of saying, “You really wounded me”, it says, “Did you actually say that? Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

They’re the ones who should feel embarrassed, not us.

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast

Captain Pike's Weird Dilemma

One of these days soon, I’m going to have to do a blog post, podcast discussion, or both about the Star Trek two-part episode The Menagerie. It’s one of the most memorable of the original series episodes, but also one of the most bizarre, especially its depiction of the severely disabled Captain Christopher Pike. For one thing, the show depicts a level of far future high-tech adaptation that has already been surpassed in real life. Then there are the ideas about disability that drive the plot. It’s all based on the assumption that even in the 22nd century, physical disability is just about the worst thing that can happen to someone. Yet, there are small moments and details that nod towards Captain Pike retaining some agency in the world, despite appearing to be an inert lump of flesh that can only say "yes" or "no".

The Menagerie is weird viewing to begin with. For someone familiar with disability issues, it’s doubly hard to untangle, but kind of compelling.

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast

Throwback Thursday

A year ago in Disability thinking … Vigil Followup.

Thoughts after last year’s Day Of Mourning. I’d still like to know more about the legal outcomes of these situations.

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast

Followup: 2015 Day Of Mourning

BAY AREA DAY OF MOURNING: ALICE WONG

Alice Wong, Disability Visibility Project - March 3, 2015

This address by Alice Wong, at one of Sunday’s Day Of Mourning 2015 events, is heartbreaking and empowering all at the same time. It’s always tricky to imply, “My life is pretty great so yours can be, too,” but we’re talking about life and death here. Those three kids weren’t allowed to even try.

I still don’t have much appetite for punishment. But the contrast between what life with even the most “severe” disabilities can be, and how hopeless these killers and the news media just assume it is, shows just how far apart and confused we still are about the nature of disability. It’s a vital reminder to the disability community that “disability awareness”, so easily trivialized, really is important. Somehow, we’ve got to penetrate the brick wall between people with disabilities who are happy and glad to be here, and the parents, professionals, and news media who think disability equals suffering and hopelessness.

Lives literally depend on it.

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast

Old Timey People

Were the “old days” really as terrible for disabled people as we tend to think? Were people back then just grossly ignorant and callous about disability? Or, is that an assumption we make, or a useful conceit to help people today feel superior?

If you go back far enough in history, I’m sure you can find eras where most people really did think you could “catch" cognitive impairment, that a club foot was a punishment for the sins of great-grandparents, or that blind people were psychic. But we tend to talk about more recent history as if only 2 or 3 generations ago, people's beliefs about disability were universally medieval, and that’s why we had asylums, forced sterilization, and ugly laws.

I think that maybe institutions, laws, and taboos were a lot more terrible than they are today. I’m not sure people were that much worse though. As with slavery, there must have been non-trivial percentages of people in, say, the 1910s who didn’t buy disgusting ideas about disability any more than we do today. If that’s true, it seems unfair to forget about them. On the other hand, one wonders, then, why more people didn’t object when the rest of society was treating disabled people like crap.

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast

2015 Day Of Mourning

I can't speak for the organizers, but it seems to me that what this event isn't about is as important as what it is:

It isn't about saying that caregivers who kill are monsters.

It isn't about demonizing "special needs parents".

It isn't primarily about punishing the killers more harshly.

It is about accountability for crimes.

It is about ending a double standard ... acquittals and lighter sentences when the victims are disabled.

It is about changing the media narrative that reverses the roles of victim and victimizer.

It is about fighting the popular perception that caring for disabled people is some kind of hell.

It is about remembering the people we've lost, who are too often forgotten.

Please take part however you can, and we’ll all remember together.

2015 Day of Mourning Vigil Sites

Autistic Self-Advocacy Network

Day Of Mourning Virtual Vigil on Facebook

Savannah Nicole Logsdon-Breakstone

Virtual Vigil Website

Autistic Self-Advocacy Network

Day of Mourning - 3/1/2015

David Perry, How Did We Get Into This Mess? - February 28, 2015

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast

Represent

I haven't always felt as strongly as some disabled bloggers and tweeters about non-disabled actors playing, and getting accolades for playing, disabled characters. I don't like it, but on balance, I am usually more interested in how disabled characters in movies and TV are developed, what’s said about disability in the script, and the messages sent by what happens in the stories.

Still, I think it's important for people to understand that those of us who aren't celebrating Eddie Redmayne’s Oscar for playing Steven Hawking aren't just sourpusses or political correctness commisars. There are substantive reasons why this is a real issue.

Supply and Demand

There are relatively few acting roles for disabled characters. There are relatively few … but a lot more than zero … actors with disabilities. It is quite rare for disabled actors to be cast as characters who aren’t specifically designated as disabled. And it is extremely rare to cast disabled actors to play disabled characters. Sort through all that, and you will see how ridiculously hard it is for disabled actors to get work. With all the odds against them, how must it feel for disabled actors to watch the few disabled roles there are consistently go to non-disabled actors? Plus, when the roles are prominent and popular, those non-disabled actors are praised even more for playing disabled … like it's a double back-flip feat of ACTING! In fact, playing disabled is a well-known shortcut to an Oscar for non-disabled actors. Even people who aren’t familiar with disability issues often snicker about it. The comedy “Tropic Thunder” forthrightly joked about it.

Accuracy

The first film about disability that really excited me was “My Left Foot”, in which non-disabled actor Daniel Day-Lewis played Christy Brown, a real-life Irish poet with Cerebral Palsy. A young non-disabled actor Hugh O'Connor played Christy as a child. Day-Lewis won the Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal, winning particular praise for the supposed authenticity of his movements and vocalizations. When I saw the film, it seemed to me like it was pretty accurate. He looked and sounded much like people I knew who had CP on the more “severe” side of the scale. Granted, I didn’t really pay much attention to the finer details. And I have since been told that the portrayal may have been “played up” for emotional effect. That can be hard to define, as everyone’s disability is different, and acting always requires the “portrayal” (i.e. faking) of emotions. Still, if crucial details are wrong, and especially if actors, writers, and directors knowingly make a character’s disability look more exaggerated than it would be in real life, that’s just vile, leading to the next point ...

Are You Making Fun Of Me?

maysoonzayid: DD is a phenomonal actor but he was an unwatchable cartoon in MLF @AndrewPulrang @dominickevans #filmdis

dominickevans: @maysoonzayid @AndrewPulrang those portrayals also turn to stereotypes (i.e. autistics rocking as central characteristic)

maysoonzayid: Right I'd be horrified to see how inaccurately an AB actor would clown how CP twists my lips @AndrewPulrang @dominickevans

dominickevans: @AndrewPulrang @maysoonzayid I personally find it very hard to look past the stereotyping physically... that actors seem to do

Sunday afternoon, I had an interesting Twitter conversation about all this with a disabled actor, Maysoon Zayid, and a disabled director, Dominick Evans, who are both regular participants in the weekly #FilmDis discussions about disability on screen. Dominick is the organizer. He and Maysoon were down on “My Left Foot”, and in addition to what they felt was the portrayal’s inaccuracy, they both cited a sense that it wasn’t just wrong, but also a caricature … cartoonish and painful to watch as disabled viewers. I got what they were saying, but I’m still struggling with this. On the one hand, I think a lot of people see Day-Lewis’ Christy Brown, and maybe Redmayne’s Steven Hawking, as bravely honest depictions, not “prettied up” for more sensitive eyes and ears. That’s how I saw “My Left Foot” back in 1990. Of course that presupposes that what’s being portrayed is terrible hardship, which is only one facet of disability, for some disabled people.

On the other hand, especially if I had that exact kind of disability, I might have seen the same depiction as mockery … like a class clown in the hallway executing a “perfect" imitation of my odd way of walking and posture. The actors in question almost certainly weren’t trying to be mean that way, but it’s possible that at times they were trying to shock, and that’s nearly as bad. Now, I suppose a disabled actor might end up doing the same thing, but I think it’s far less likely, because they probably know better where to draw the line, when to say “no”. Also, I think there’s a less tangible issue here of trust. It’s hard enough for some of us to see “ourselves” on screen, often mocked, abused, or turned into cardboard cutouts. But if we know going in that the actor is disabled, maybe it helps us get through it, knowing that “our” portrayal is more likely to be in good hands.

Someone To Say “No"

Non-disabled writers and directors are like children when it comes to disability. They are over-awed by it, and prone to mystify or fetishize it in unhelpful, sometimes disgusting, often profoundly boring, clichéd ways. A disabled actor can be like an adult in the room. If a director pushes them to do something exaggerated, inaccurate, or stereotypical, the disabled actor can say, “Hang on a minute, let’s talk about this.” Being only vaguely aware of the power relationships in Hollywood, I’m not suggesting this would always work. Still, having someone on set with real life, personal experience of disability would at least increase the chance that a finished work would be accurate and not over-dramatized, at least in regard to the disability itself.

So no, advocating that disabled actors be hired to play disabled characters isn’t tokenism. It isn’t “political correctness gone mad”. It should be standard operating procedure. It’s good for disabled actors, it helps improve perceptions of disability, and it makes better art.

Related article:

Welcome, Eddie Redmayne: Since ‘Rain Man,’ majority of Best Actor Oscar winners played sick or disabled

Justin Moyer, Washington Post - February 23, 2015

Despite some amateur-hour terminology slip-ups, (“handicapped” and “malady” are NOT synonyms for “disability" you can pull out of your Thesaurus just to add variety), this is a pretty good illustration of just how much Oscar loves disability by non-disabled actors. It's interesting to note that Mr. Moyer chooses 1988 as the start date, when two years earlier, Marlee Matlin won the Oscar for Best Actress for "Children Of A Lesser God" … a woman with a disability playing a character with that disability.

----------

Facebook

Twitter
Disability.TV Podcast