May 1st was Blogging Against Disablism day. Dozens of entries get written for this every year. I usually participate, but this year it was just too much to think about. Instead, here are my four favourites so far. I still have more to read, but these struck me as very powerful. Oppression is everywhere - it's there when we protest for our rights, when we go shopping, when we turn on the TV, and in every aspect of our lives, from the inconsequential to the life-altering. These posts explore those dimensions of disablist oppression. Read; think; remember.
More people need to know what happened to ADAPT at the White House last week, and about the parallel events involving the Autistic Self Advocacy Network's recent protest. If we shut our eyes to oppression, it continues. Autism - Change.org discusses the details.
On dreamwidth, Trouble Is Everywhere writes about a Torchwood episode that I don't remember recognising as disability-themed, at least not to the extent that Trouble noticed. I need to watch it again and take note, because, as I said in a comment, if we don't stop and acknowledge this kind of mainstream media disablism, it will only carry on.
I adore Hoyden About Town's post on needing a seat. Access issues that don't involve ramps are so often overlooked. (And wheelchair users face these kinds of overlooked access issues too.)
Disablism is a daily part of many people's lives. Acknowledge it, challenge it, don't perpetutate it. Wheelie Catholic's post struck a very loud chord with me.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
Blogging Against Disablism Day, 2009
Alas, this year I will not be Blogging Against Disablism. This is because I am in the middle of two 6000-word essays that have the potential to make or break my future (mainly because it's a disablist world out there and I need to go above and beyond to have any chance of overcoming that), while fighting some VERY frustrating impairment-related crap that wants to stop me working on said 6000-word essays, as well as moving house and some other fun.
And so, in lieu of a post, I would like to draw your attention to The Goldfish's Blogging Against Disablism 2009 archive. It will grow throughout the week as people add their posts to it. It is a truly awesome annual online activism-fest, and everyone should read as much of it as possible.
This year, I particularly recommend Batsgirl's post on issues and expectations around disabled parenting. It will make you think.
Happy Blogging Against Disablism Day.
And so, in lieu of a post, I would like to draw your attention to The Goldfish's Blogging Against Disablism 2009 archive. It will grow throughout the week as people add their posts to it. It is a truly awesome annual online activism-fest, and everyone should read as much of it as possible.
This year, I particularly recommend Batsgirl's post on issues and expectations around disabled parenting. It will make you think.
Happy Blogging Against Disablism Day.
Monday, March 16, 2009
STRESSED
I seem to have lost the ability to format my posts properly. This is very strange.
I am stressing massively, in a way that only a dyspraxic with obsessive tendencies can.
I sent an e-mail to my tutor yesterday, having *lost the plot* over one more inaccessible situation (not physical access issues - more structural, if that makes any sense). I offloaded about *all* the stress that structurally and attitudinally inaccessible situations have been creating for me on the course, over the last few months in particular.
Now she's likely to want to know exactly what the problems are and what can be done about them. Putting them into words? Not going to happen...
I've held it together by a thread - but still quite impressively and successfully - for six months in this situation. I don't like people seeing how vulnerable I am. Especially worried as I've just been accepted for a PhD (no news on funding yet so it may well not actually happen) and I really wanted to communicate the illusion of how capable and normal I am in relation to that. Who'd appoint a teaching assistant who can't cope with ordinary circumstances on an MA course?
Argh.
I am stressing massively, in a way that only a dyspraxic with obsessive tendencies can.
I sent an e-mail to my tutor yesterday, having *lost the plot* over one more inaccessible situation (not physical access issues - more structural, if that makes any sense). I offloaded about *all* the stress that structurally and attitudinally inaccessible situations have been creating for me on the course, over the last few months in particular.
Now she's likely to want to know exactly what the problems are and what can be done about them. Putting them into words? Not going to happen...
I've held it together by a thread - but still quite impressively and successfully - for six months in this situation. I don't like people seeing how vulnerable I am. Especially worried as I've just been accepted for a PhD (no news on funding yet so it may well not actually happen) and I really wanted to communicate the illusion of how capable and normal I am in relation to that. Who'd appoint a teaching assistant who can't cope with ordinary circumstances on an MA course?
Argh.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Brief Update
...as I have been away too long.
Recent events include:
- Getting one distinction and one merit, and deciding to apply for a PhD anyway (and then changing my mind the minute the application was in and it was too late)
- Having the worst Friday 13th of my *entire life*, involving broken lifts interrupting my studies and forgotten passports nearly ruining Dublin holidays (but The Girl, ever the hero, had us on another flight by the next day)
- Broken powered wheels, frustrating inabilities to focus on work, general irritation at PAs (it's not personal), and a DAN demo that I almost didn't make it to (but some great friends helped me out and I got there in the end).
Currently having:
- A month of (mild, fortunately) depression over missing The Girl, perceiving exploitation in my department (whether or not it's real), and generally being tired and in pain
- Some surprise, some worry and a general ontological crisis following acceptance onto my PhD (but I probably won't get funded, so I'm trying not to worry too much yet)
- Delight at finding a doctor from whom I can get exactly what I want, when I want it, and realising that it's partly because I now know what I want and when I want it.
Going back to debates over professional power, emancipatory research, and women and medicine now.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Impairment, Disability, and why we still need the Social Model...
The reason I've been absent from here for, like, weeks at a time is that I'm writing an essay on impairment, disability and the body. (Why yes, I did decide to jump straight into one of the most controversial issues in the whole of Disability Studies and see if I can swim. Not sure what the verdict is yet. If I drown, I'm sure you'll hear about it.)
It turns out I'm more committed to the social model of disability than I realised I was.* I knew I was a fan - what else has changed lives, motivated mobilization against oppression, and brought people together as much as the social model has? But, being a person with a chronic illess (actually several chronic illnesses, including a mental health problem) as well as a disabled person, I've also long been aware of the shortcomings - not of the social model itself, but of what's been left out in its adoption by the disabled community. It doesn't talk about what Carol Thomas calls 'impairment effects' (which are different for everyone, but might include pain and fatigue). That irritates some people, including feminist critics (who think the social model is influenced by patriarchy) and postmodernist academics (never read Tom Shakespeare, never ever, very silly man), all of whom think it is incomplete and either needs altering or dumping.
And yet, despite all that, I remain convinced that the social model is still the most powerful tool we have for change.
It's an awfully odd experience, sitting in a classroom full of people who aren't even bothering debating the issue, since they've all decided that the social model doesn't need changing because it is the way to change the whole world, in all areas from euthanasia and eugenics to education and health/social care. It's brilliant, of course. (If a bit disappointing, as I wanted to sound off about Tom Shakespeare. Although instead I got to sound off about student media that publishes disablist crap and gets away with it. More seriously, I did want to talk about Liz Crow's amazing call for the disabled movement to start considering impairment. But I shall write about it in an essay instead. There's some incredible writing out there for those who want pain, fatigue, terminal illness and other impairment effects to be taken more seriously in the disability rights movement. I can recommend reading, if anyone's interested.)
But it's also got a less empowering edge to it, that ongoing experience I'm having of being surrounded by non-disabled allies (my class is made up of about a 3 non-disabled to 1 disabled student ratio this semester) who have made up their mind about how infallible the social model is. It feels just a bit too much like religious fundamentalism to me. And maybe even more dangerous than that, since it's not quite 'nothing about us without us', however fantastic, well-read, well-meaning and committed to the cause these people are. This became really clear to me last week, in a conversation with one of them (an awesome person, btw) who wasn't willing to listen to my opinion that life is, arguably, always worth living, even if that life involves quite a lot pain. He didn't mean anything negative; he thought he was representing people who didn't have a voice in that argument. But then, that was exactly the problem.
And it was then that I realised exactly why 'nothing about us, without us' is an absolute essential. Yes, it might leave non-disabled allies feeling excluded - that's a risk we'll have to take. And we need those allies, and should continue to welcome them into the cause. But they can never be allowed to speak for us. That's at the heart of what the social model stands for. Attitudinal barriers are everywhere - even among the most enlightened of non-disabled people. While it's extremely important to 'bring back' (to quote Liz Crow) our experience of impairment into the wider debates of the disabled community, the social model has to remain at the forefront of everything we do - at least until every single barrier, attitudinal or otherwise, has been purged from our society, and we speak for ourselves.
I should be getting some of this into an essay, but I've got a cold. (To quote The Girl this morning: "This is what happens in November. There are viruses, and I have them and then you catch them from me, and then there are wheelchairs..." Heh.) So instead I'm watching Stephen Fry in America, and a bit of Firefly. Best not to stress about the regular necessity of recuperation when you're a sickly child. Especially when said recuperation can involve tea and Joss Whedon.
*I have just spent ten minutes looking for a good definition of the social model online, in order to illustrate this concept for those of my readers who are not aware of it (all two of them). I could quote an 'original' definition, but there are at least two different versions, and I can't choose between them. All the online definitions I can find are ridiculously wordy, when it's really a very simple concept. A prize** for anyone who can comment with a good link that explains the social model in less than 100 words. Or who can do that themselves.
**The prize is metaphorical. Sorry.
It turns out I'm more committed to the social model of disability than I realised I was.* I knew I was a fan - what else has changed lives, motivated mobilization against oppression, and brought people together as much as the social model has? But, being a person with a chronic illess (actually several chronic illnesses, including a mental health problem) as well as a disabled person, I've also long been aware of the shortcomings - not of the social model itself, but of what's been left out in its adoption by the disabled community. It doesn't talk about what Carol Thomas calls 'impairment effects' (which are different for everyone, but might include pain and fatigue). That irritates some people, including feminist critics (who think the social model is influenced by patriarchy) and postmodernist academics (never read Tom Shakespeare, never ever, very silly man), all of whom think it is incomplete and either needs altering or dumping.
And yet, despite all that, I remain convinced that the social model is still the most powerful tool we have for change.
It's an awfully odd experience, sitting in a classroom full of people who aren't even bothering debating the issue, since they've all decided that the social model doesn't need changing because it is the way to change the whole world, in all areas from euthanasia and eugenics to education and health/social care. It's brilliant, of course. (If a bit disappointing, as I wanted to sound off about Tom Shakespeare. Although instead I got to sound off about student media that publishes disablist crap and gets away with it. More seriously, I did want to talk about Liz Crow's amazing call for the disabled movement to start considering impairment. But I shall write about it in an essay instead. There's some incredible writing out there for those who want pain, fatigue, terminal illness and other impairment effects to be taken more seriously in the disability rights movement. I can recommend reading, if anyone's interested.)
But it's also got a less empowering edge to it, that ongoing experience I'm having of being surrounded by non-disabled allies (my class is made up of about a 3 non-disabled to 1 disabled student ratio this semester) who have made up their mind about how infallible the social model is. It feels just a bit too much like religious fundamentalism to me. And maybe even more dangerous than that, since it's not quite 'nothing about us without us', however fantastic, well-read, well-meaning and committed to the cause these people are. This became really clear to me last week, in a conversation with one of them (an awesome person, btw) who wasn't willing to listen to my opinion that life is, arguably, always worth living, even if that life involves quite a lot pain. He didn't mean anything negative; he thought he was representing people who didn't have a voice in that argument. But then, that was exactly the problem.
And it was then that I realised exactly why 'nothing about us, without us' is an absolute essential. Yes, it might leave non-disabled allies feeling excluded - that's a risk we'll have to take. And we need those allies, and should continue to welcome them into the cause. But they can never be allowed to speak for us. That's at the heart of what the social model stands for. Attitudinal barriers are everywhere - even among the most enlightened of non-disabled people. While it's extremely important to 'bring back' (to quote Liz Crow) our experience of impairment into the wider debates of the disabled community, the social model has to remain at the forefront of everything we do - at least until every single barrier, attitudinal or otherwise, has been purged from our society, and we speak for ourselves.
I should be getting some of this into an essay, but I've got a cold. (To quote The Girl this morning: "This is what happens in November. There are viruses, and I have them and then you catch them from me, and then there are wheelchairs..." Heh.) So instead I'm watching Stephen Fry in America, and a bit of Firefly. Best not to stress about the regular necessity of recuperation when you're a sickly child. Especially when said recuperation can involve tea and Joss Whedon.
*I have just spent ten minutes looking for a good definition of the social model online, in order to illustrate this concept for those of my readers who are not aware of it (all two of them). I could quote an 'original' definition, but there are at least two different versions, and I can't choose between them. All the online definitions I can find are ridiculously wordy, when it's really a very simple concept. A prize** for anyone who can comment with a good link that explains the social model in less than 100 words. Or who can do that themselves.
**The prize is metaphorical. Sorry.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Progress
Half of the automating work on my bedroom door has now been done - thanks to intervention from: The Girl, the disability support team at the Equality Service, the Equal Opps Officer for the School of Sociology and Social Policy, the Director of Estates, and the head of the Disability Studies course (who also happens to be my personal tutor). Apparently the motto is something like 'when all else fails, get in with the top people'.
So I am now able to kick my door open without injury, and on Friday I'm promised it will be fully automated. We shall see, of course, but right now I'm just happy to have injury-free entrance and exit to my own home.
As I said thanks to the Accommodation Services woman for (*finally*) arranging this, I heard myself apologise for being 'difficult'. Oh God. Someone please have me shot - I'm a really, really terrible example of a disability rights activist. (But seriously, how do you thank someone for arranging something about which you've been really quite forceful, while acknowledging both their hard work and your inconvenience, without either backing off from your original strong position or sounding ungrateful? Best answer wins the last gingerbread person from a lovely little homemade batch that my PA brought me the other day.)
So I am now able to kick my door open without injury, and on Friday I'm promised it will be fully automated. We shall see, of course, but right now I'm just happy to have injury-free entrance and exit to my own home.
As I said thanks to the Accommodation Services woman for (*finally*) arranging this, I heard myself apologise for being 'difficult'. Oh God. Someone please have me shot - I'm a really, really terrible example of a disability rights activist. (But seriously, how do you thank someone for arranging something about which you've been really quite forceful, while acknowledging both their hard work and your inconvenience, without either backing off from your original strong position or sounding ungrateful? Best answer wins the last gingerbread person from a lovely little homemade batch that my PA brought me the other day.)
Monday, October 13, 2008
More Glorious Weeks
It could perhaps be seen as a bit ironic that this week I'm reading up for a seminar on 'disability as social oppression'. Hmm...
The access nightmares here continue. I discover more and more that they are ticking the boxes for access, but don't always have what they promise. Last week I disclocated my wrist opening my bedroom door, which I have been complaining about for the past four weeks since I moved in - it's supposed to be being made automatic, but they're dragging their feet on technicalities. Meanwhile, I've been trying to get union lifts fixed, working on sorting out some fairly major PA problems, and attempting to persuade the police that the long row of cars *entirely* blocking the pavement (and therefore my access) to my own house is an issue that they need to do something about. No one is very interested in any of these, or any of the other dozens of DDA-flouting barriers I keep running into. Latest development on the nasty door: two security men come around to see if "the rodent" - my hamster - has been removed. It has. They are satisfied and make as if to leave. I say as politely as possible, "Are you able to tell me if there has been any progress on the door?" Apparently it is now 'out of their hands' and been sent on to be dealt with by a higher authority of some kind. Have I been informed about this? When The Girl rings Accommodation Services about it, do they know anything about this development? I expect you can work out the answer to both those questions. TG is currently working out who the registrar at my university is - she's going to make a high-level complaint. Looking forward to it. Not particularly hopeful though.
[insert three-hour-long break here]
I was going to write a paragraph on my reading into social oppression and disability, but I've just come back from a lecture *on disability in film* which was completely wheelchair-inaccessible, and I can't quite deal with the theory while there's so much practical crap going on with it. Maybe tomorrow you'll be lucky enough to hear about why Paul Abberley thinks it's important to consider issues of impairment which is created by society, just as much as the social construction of disability. (Pray that you are not.)
The access nightmares here continue. I discover more and more that they are ticking the boxes for access, but don't always have what they promise. Last week I disclocated my wrist opening my bedroom door, which I have been complaining about for the past four weeks since I moved in - it's supposed to be being made automatic, but they're dragging their feet on technicalities. Meanwhile, I've been trying to get union lifts fixed, working on sorting out some fairly major PA problems, and attempting to persuade the police that the long row of cars *entirely* blocking the pavement (and therefore my access) to my own house is an issue that they need to do something about. No one is very interested in any of these, or any of the other dozens of DDA-flouting barriers I keep running into. Latest development on the nasty door: two security men come around to see if "the rodent" - my hamster - has been removed. It has. They are satisfied and make as if to leave. I say as politely as possible, "Are you able to tell me if there has been any progress on the door?" Apparently it is now 'out of their hands' and been sent on to be dealt with by a higher authority of some kind. Have I been informed about this? When The Girl rings Accommodation Services about it, do they know anything about this development? I expect you can work out the answer to both those questions. TG is currently working out who the registrar at my university is - she's going to make a high-level complaint. Looking forward to it. Not particularly hopeful though.
[insert three-hour-long break here]
I was going to write a paragraph on my reading into social oppression and disability, but I've just come back from a lecture *on disability in film* which was completely wheelchair-inaccessible, and I can't quite deal with the theory while there's so much practical crap going on with it. Maybe tomorrow you'll be lucky enough to hear about why Paul Abberley thinks it's important to consider issues of impairment which is created by society, just as much as the social construction of disability. (Pray that you are not.)
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