Can We Please Stop Calling Able-Bodied People TABs

Physical access for people with disabilities is crucially important for an inclusive society. We currently fall far short of being fully accessible. This is true pretty much everywhere, though some places are worse than others.

It can be difficult to get people who do not face barriers to public access to take those barriers seriously or to even acknowledge how widespread those barriers are. As a way to bring context to this issue where one side lives an experience of regular and often unpredictable public exclusion and the other which is allowed to remain blissfully ignorant, the disabled community came up with the abbreviation TAB.

Temporarily Able-Bodied. In an effort to build understanding around the issues of disabled people, we chose to remind people that we are a group they can join at any time and most crucially are very likely to join. It is described as

“AB” is an abbreviation for able-bodied; “TAB” is a slightly more to-the-point abbreviation meaning “Temporarily Able-Bodied.” TAB refers to the inevitable—namely, that most of us will face disability at some point in our lives; whether it comes sooner or later varies depending upon one’s circumstances.

Frankly, there are better ways to explain why accessibility and understanding of disability issues are important.

Accessibility helps anyone who has to push a stroller or carry boxes. Full accessibility and its maintenance make life easier for everyone who has to move around. Disabled people are simply given more equal access. Access that is often otherwise denied.

Laurie Toby Edison and Debbie Notkin, who use the term TAB argue that

Using it is a way for a disability activist (or anyone discussing disability) to quickly and effectively bring all of her/his listeners into one group: some of us are disabled now and many of us will be sooner or later. It’s a phrase that builds community, that reminds people that the needs of some are really the needs of everyone. It’s akin to “universal design” as a phrase reminding us of what brings us together, rather than what separates us.

I find this view a bit naive. Disability is still deeply stigmatized. People actively fear becoming like us. I have a friend who often states that they would prefer to die young than ever become dependent in their old age. Even the authors of the last quote understand that the term can be problematic simply because it is not true. Not all currently able-bodied people will become disabled ether temporarily or permanently. They say,

At the same time, like any catchphrase, it’s oversimplified. Disability is not inevitable. Only two things are always temporary: life, and youth. Everything else is conditional, contextual, and/or statistical. Definitions of ability/disability are exceedingly complex; even definitions of “aging” are less obvious than they might immediately appear.

Ability is not always temporary. Two large groups of people are able-bodied until they die: first, those who age able-bodied (not just 90-year-old hikers but also people over 80 who walk to the grocery store every day and clean their own homes). Second, and harder to see, are the people who die able-bodied at any age. In a culture that tries not to admit that people die at all and is especially resistant to admitting that young people ever die, it’s important to remember that death and old age are not synonymous. And, of course, disability is not always permanent either: the world is full of people who are temporarily disabled.

Despite their misgivings, they ultimately still believe that the term has value as a community builder and they intend to continue using it albeit with disclaimers.

I genuinely see the term TAB as more of a threat (at least in how it is perceived, regardless of the intent of the user) than anything useful. It is saying, you will be like us someday and how will you get around the world then?

I most frequently hear TAB used as an inevitable description. As already pointed out this is simply not true. As Notkin and Edison point out, people have difficulty coming to terms with mortality. Disability though not always deadly is an extension of that fear. People do not view acquired disability calmly or dispassionately. They quite often fear it.

Ezekiel J. Emmanuel sums up why he would prefer to die early, rather than live as long as possible,

But here is a simple truth that many of us seem to resist: living too long is also a loss. It renders many of us, if not disabled, then faltering and declining, a state that may not be worse than death but is nonetheless deprived. It robs us of our creativity and ability to contribute to work, society, the world. It transforms how people experience us, relate to us, and, most important, remember us. We are no longer remembered as vibrant and engaged but as feeble, ineffectual, even pathetic.

So disability is feeble, ineffectual and pathetic. Emmanuel is far from alone in his beliefs. If he weren’t this discussion would not be necessary.

For a term like TAB to be effective at including others in understanding, they must first understand that disability is not a fate worse than death.

Unfortunately, understanding disability and the barriers disabled people face will take more than a term that is at best misleading and at worse could fan flames of fear because telling someone who fears disability that they are likely to become disabled is more likely to cause backlash than open channels of communication.