Far more articulate people than I have done substantive work on how language shapes perception. But I’m not sure that work has permeated our culture. At least, not yet. I’m constantly amazed by the lack of sensitivity in the press and in casual conversations when it comes to describing people with disabilities. There are style guides and professional protocols that recommend specific phrases for disability and impairment because these phrases impact the way that people with disabilities are seen and treated.
I have had scores of debates with well-meaning people about language. I have received thinly-disguised skeptical looks when I note language that I find offensive because it marginalizes me. Some are obvious put downs: “That’s lame!” Whatever object that phrase modifies is understood as substandard, “a lame excuse” or “a lame move.” Other awkward phrases have spawned cartoons in my community of advocates: picture the ropes needed for “the wheel-chair bound.” Yeah, that’s not me. No tying me down. And, please, don’t get me started on “crippling snow storms.”
Sometimes, it’s everyday language that I find most insidious and infuriating. The preponderence of “steps” leaves me far, far behind: the oft-used sports analogy, “step up to the plate,” the metaphors and cliches around “steps to success.” In my world, steps rarely lead to success. Mostly they’re a dead end or a lesson in frustration. I’m all for taking a stand, too. Except that it’s very, very difficult for me to do so, especially without a hand rail. But I do want to stand and be counted. I do want to honor a great song or speech with a standing ovation. But I remain seated, at the bottom of the stairs, uninvolved, unsuccessful, despite my raised hand and willing heart. Substituting “stand as you are able” immediately includes me in the proceedings, but I rarely hear that phrase echoed back in churches or public performances. One phrase can make the difference. One phrase.
Because I’m a bit mischievous, I tend to use offensive phrases with a certain irony, a nudge, and a wink. Or I substitute a ramp image. Or I try to point out the bias implicit in a stair-step diagram with growth defined as the pinnacle point. “Where’s the elevator?” I once asked a professor who smiled, a little indulgently, but didn’t address my point. I was struggling to say that there was no room for me in his view of the world, but I couldn’t get to the podium to approach him. Stopped by steps. Once again.
There are those who would tell me to get over it, if they were completely honest, which they are generally not. And, perhaps, I should save myself some grief. But I’d rather be angry and authentic than pleasant and passive. One of the most honest exchanges happened in Boston with a seemingly homeless man who had wandered into an art gallery opening and asked, “Why you in that thing?” After detailing my symptoms and the lack of a cure for my condition, he concluded, “So, you’re fucked.” I responded “Yeah. But aren’t we all?” He considered my point, and we went on to talk about being temporarily able-bodied. That scene plays in my head because we had an exchange that changed our initial assumptions about each other.
I want more conversations like that one, with or without the salty language, and I need your help in my two-part plan. First, I humbly implore you to check yourself, as I have tried to check myself. How often do you use disability pejoratively? How often do you use an adjective to refer to a person? Do you tend to include emotional baggage when discussing a situation that involves a person with a disability? Do you add “brave” or “inspirational” as a matter of course? Are you prone to relate how someone “overcomes” their situation?
Very good. How do you get insensitive people out of a tree? You cut the rope!
Don’t ya forget to talk turkey to all those dumb clucks, Randy, please.
Well said, Randy, and Sterling!
Thanks for reading and applying your doctoral skills to the subject!
This headline hit me today: “Lame Old Story from Carl Crawford.” Gives new meaning to the title of the column, “Obnoxius Boston Fan.” Red Sox rewrite, please: http://www.boston.com/sports/blogs/obnoxiousbostonfan/2013/03/carl_crawford_boston_media_red_sox_dodgers.html?s_campaign=8315
Hi Randy, I don’t know if you remember me or my son Tanner? I believe he was 6 or 7 when we last saw you and Leslie at your wedding:) I just wanted to let Leslie know what in impact she had on Tanner when she worked with him at NW Reading Clinic. Tanner is now a handsome 22yo and I am proud to say he will be receiving his degree in Human Development on May 11th at WSU in Vancouver. Without her help, I cringe at the thought of where he would be today. Please pass this on to her, Tanner will always remember her. In fact he still has a picture of Vippy in his room. Fun fact: Tanner insisted we get a Corgi, her name is Sophie.
Ironically he is doing his internship at DSHS, and studies files of individuals receiving aid. Tanner told me that almost all of them have learning disablities. He is so thankful that Leslie was there for him. Tell her “hello” from me too.
Hi Randy! Some folks I know at Loyola University in Baltimore have done some work on this topic… they call it Just Language, and I love it! Thought you might be interested, so here’s the link… http://www.loyola.edu/ccsj/social_justice/just_language/index.html
Here I am in my wheelchair in a packed event space. A five-person panel catalyzes the conversation. The moderator of the forum beside me is describing the wonders of the Baltimore waterfront. Seattle is “lame” in comparison. I cringe. He repeats it. Again and again. It’s one lame after another. Then he poses a question to the panel: “How do we change our lame waterfront?” I reach out and touch his jacket. I want to say, into the microphone, that the use of the term is offensive. But he doesn’t acknowledge me. I wait for a break, get his attention, and whisper into his ear, “Find another word for lame. It’s offensive.” He nods. But then he uses “lame” again, this time recoiling in embarrassment. He mouths, “Sorry” to me. I nod to show understanding. But then the panelists start picking up his language. Soon the “lames” are flying fast and furious. And I am getting furious. I stay until the end of the proceedings and hand my card to each and every panelists, saying, “I’d like to give you 20 non-offensive synonyms for lame.”
I’m grateful you are not letting me off the hook for my language slips, Randy. I can remember dozens of conversations when I was first grappling with the ways language has long been used to marginalize women. Yet I have been slow to grapple with the way I marginalize people with disabilities. It doesn’t matter my gaffs are unintentional. They are real. But I am listening and learning – so thanks for your help.
You are the most sensitive of broadcasters, Cathryn, creating awareness of a thousand ways to right the wrongs we see around us. The sum total of your work is a beautiful mosaic of possibilities. So I’m glad to be part of the conversation. Most people fail to ask about alternative ways to connect with the experience of marginalized members of society. Many writers never take the time to know. But you do, and that makes a big difference to me.
Randy, I have called you inspirational and have even wrote it on our facebook page when referencing your blog. I just want to let you know I meant it — not inspirational because you are a person with a disability writing a blog, but because I find your writing inspirational. I find myself reading blog entry after blog entry and wanting to read more, learn more and do more! So I hope in this case you can find some room in your heart to forgive a person for truly finding you inspirational.
Absolutely, Kathleen. No forgiveness needed. Your authenticity is palpable, and that makes all the difference. My thanks for the true complement!