Disabled and non-disabled people in conversation.
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This is by no means the worst form of ableism, but it happens to people with disabilities every day.
Last month, disability activist, editor, blogger, and author Emily Radau spoke about a type of everyday encounter with mild ableism that’s perhaps best understood by other disabled people. In many ways, it was a low-key story: Disabled people deal with awkward, insensitive questions and comments about their disability all the time, but it’s no less painful in the moment, and painful when it accumulates over a lifetime.
Emily was fixing her hair when suddenly, the following exchange occurred:
Another customer asked Emily, “Why are you in a wheelchair?”
Emily recalls: “I was taken by surprise. I stammered out that I had been born with Larsen syndrome, a genetic joint and muscle disorder.”
Emily’s hairstylist then added: “I don’t know how she does it. If it were me I’d just lay in bed and cry all day.”
Emily shared the full story with her followers on her Facebook page and Twitter.
If this hadn’t already been written and ready to be published when it happened, this would literally have been a textbook case of benevolent ableism, and would have been perfect material for Emily’s upcoming book, Demystifying Disability.
It also resurfaces some of the most common questions about disability discrimination in everyday life.
How do disabled people deal with these awkward and often painful interactions, especially when they don’t seem to be accompanied by overt hostility? If someone like Emily, an experienced and articulate disability activist, can be shaken by these “well-intentioned” ambushes, how do disabled people who are less knowledgeable about disability rights and awareness get through them? How can able-bodied people engage with disabled people without trapping them in awkward conversations where there really is no appropriate response?
It all stems from a familiar sequence that disabled people know all too well.
First, a non-disabled person makes an awkward remark about us indirectly, either to us or in our presence, and we either don’t respond at all or give an awkward reply that makes everyone, including ourselves, feel uncomfortable.
Sometimes we complain, either on the spot or in a subsequent conversation, in person or online, and inevitably someone feels it is important to explain to us that a non-disabled person was probably just trying to be kind, and that we are over-making something that is no big deal.
And so a pointless argument ensues: we try to express our true, raw emotions, while able-bodied people try to impose some kind of rationality or moderation that they believe we lack.
For people with disabilities, there’s often an added burden: we have to be constantly ready to educate others—to correct them without offending them. It’s a 24-hour, unpaid job we all do. And, as Emily says, “It can be exhausting to feel like we exist as a never-ending educational opportunity for people without disabilities.”
These patterns are not coincidental: they are the product of particular ways of thinking about disability and social interaction, ways of thinking that need to be reexamined and deconstructed.
1. Awkward, embarrassing comments about people with disabilities are almost always well-intentioned, so you shouldn’t be quick to judge them.
Admittedly, some or even most of these comments are well-intentioned, but some of them are not. Behind these nominally positive comments lies a morbid interest that some people have in certain disorders, which is often more of an obsession than a genuine human interest.
Moreover, good intentions and ableism are not mutually exclusive and are often intertwined.
For example, someone might have great respect for disabled people and emphasize the point by saying that they would never be able to cope with such dire situations. There is probably more involved than just respect. It also suggests the instinctive fear of disability that lies at the very heart of negative ableism.
2. Many non-disabled people cannot avoid such comments due to lack of awareness about disabilities. Non-disabled people need to be educated instead of shamed.
Again, sometimes that is true: many people truly lack experience and important information about disabilities, so they make truly unintentional blunders, but when they learn, they don’t make the same mistakes again.
On the other hand, common sense and empathy can help us treat people with disabilities better. It doesn’t take any special education to understand that certain comments about people with disabilities are clearly problematic.
For example, at this point, you shouldn’t need a master’s degree in disability studies or a workplace “disability awareness” seminar to know that it’s not okay to call someone with an intellectual disability “retarded” or to ask strangers probing questions about their specific conditions, self-care habits, or sex lives.
3. People with disabilities don’t realize that most non-disabled people are kind and don’t mean to offend them.
Most disabled people are aware of this, or at least aware of the concept. In fact, many of us are so aware of it that we feel totally unable to deal with everyday ableism. The problem of well-intentioned bad behavior is one of the classic dilemmas of disabled life.
But good intentions don’t always matter. Words and actions have impacts and consequences. As Emily Radau points out, “We need to move away from the idea that intentions are more important than impact.”
If a coworker who is normally a friend continues to make “harmless” disability jokes about us or around us, it doesn’t really matter if they are actually mean-spirited or directed at us — if we don’t take steps to stop it, it won’t take long for a small scratch to become an open wound.
4. Disabled people are so consumed with anger and advocacy that they look for opportunities to get angry.
This is a very common belief among people who are skeptical of ableism and culture, especially those who tend to look down on “social justice” movements of any kind. And, of course, some disabled people have made it an intentional mission to resist ableism.
But the most ardent disability advocates tend to be quite nuanced and thoughtful about when and how they condemn ableism.
Most disabled people don’t stand up to every instance of ableism we encounter. Most of us don’t have the time or energy to be that committed. If we do complain, it’s probably because it’s the tenth time it’s happened in the past week, and if we respond with total insensitivity, it’s because it really hurts, and it’s hurt for a long time.
And for most of us, we don’t need to look for ways to be angry; it’s normal for us.
5. Because ableism is hostile and harmful, ableist comments can rightfully be responded to with angry and aggressive correction.
Improving relationships with people with disabilities isn’t just an issue for non-disabled people, and there are small ways that we as disabled people can make it less awkward and ugly without denying the pain or accepting ableist behavior.
There’s a widespread belief in ableist culture that if impact matters more than intent (which is true), then aggressive and confrontational responses to ableism are always justified, but of course this isn’t true in all situations. As long as the burden of reconciliation isn’t placed unilaterally on disabled people, a little tact and understanding is always worthwhile.
While there is actually no such thing as harmless or acceptable ableism, the principle of proportionality still holds true. “Disabled people shouldn’t be expected to make a constant effort to resist ableism,” says Emily, “but confronting people’s positions can often be much more effective at changing hearts and attitudes than simply reacting angrily.”
We can choose to clearly and gently correct ableism and not make it personal or embarrassing, especially in public. When we become more aggressive or personal, it’s often because our initial gentle efforts have already been met with defensiveness, denial, or “ablesplaining” about why ableists don’t understand how ableism works.
Most disabled people are already more knowledgeable and rational about everyday ableism than the stereotype of the vindictive advocate would suggest. On the contrary, many disabled people are too worried about not hurting other people’s feelings or making situations more awkward.
For non-disabled people, the best way to support them is to follow Emily Radau’s advice: “When a disabled person challenges you to acknowledge ableism, don’t jump to the defensive. Instead, take the time to listen, engage and learn,” she says.
It’s really simple and surprisingly effective.