I was “So Lucky” to Review Nicola Griffith’s New Book: A CripReads Review

so lucky cover

Image Description: The cover of Nicola Griffith’s book “So Lucky”. The title and author’s name appear in a large font made to look like scraps of burning paper. They appear on a black background

When I was asked to write a review of Nicola Griffith’s upcoming novel “So Lucky” (to be released May 15) I had no idea that the most frustrating part of the process was going to be figuring out how to summarize the book without spoilers. I have ultimately decided to give up on that entirely and just copy and paste the summary of the book provided by the publisher. I will only preface this summary with the opinion that I think this summary is both misleading and does not do the book justice.

So Lucky is the sharp, surprising new novel by Nicola Griffith—the profoundly personal and emphatically political story of a confident woman forced to confront an unnerving new reality when in the space of a single week her wife leaves her and she is diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.

Mara Tagarelli is, professionally, the head of a multimillion-dollar AIDS foundation; personally, she is a committed martial artist. But her life has turned inside out like a sock. She can’t rely on family, her body is letting her down, and friends and colleagues are turning away—they treat her like a victim. She needs to break that narrative: build her own community, learn new strengths, and fight. But what do you do when you find out that the story you’ve been told, the story you’ve told yourself, is not true? How can you fight if you can’t trust your body? Who can you rely on if those around you don’t have your best interests at heart, and the systems designed to help do more harm than good? Mara makes a decision and acts, but her actions unleash monsters aimed squarely at the heart of her new community.

I went into reading this book knowing very little about it beyond the fact that the main character was dealing with the transition of becoming disabled as an adult. The main character, Mara gets a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis early on in the book. I also knew that the author, Nicola Griffith has multiple sclerosis. Griffith also co-hosts the #criplit Twitter chats with Alice Wong, founder of the Disability Visibility Project.

I genuinely think that the less you know about this book before reading it, the better. I also think that you should definitely read this book. It is a good story that is engagingly written. It also offers a great and realistic depiction of disability.

Any attempt to more clearly describe the book or even sections of it would inevitably lead to spoilers.

Now I fully admit that I don’t have MS. The closest I’ve ever come to experiencing MS is when a former coworker became convinced that my cerebral palsy was really MS and spent a week trying to convince me that I didn’t understand my own body. That said, there are a lot of moments in this book that deal with situations that are not diagnosis specific.

What I love most about this book is how real those moments of the disabled experience are. I loved reading about how Mara engages with her newfound disability and how she shifts how she interacts with the rest of the world. I love that she makes decisions that I disagree with. I love that she makes decisions that I wouldn’t because she considered an angle that I hadn’t. I love that she is a whole character with a real life.

Mara also offers a level of intersectionality that we rarely get to see in media representation of disability. She is a woman, she is queer, we get to see her navigate relationships, she isn’t desexualized, and she surrounds herself with a diverse group of friends and colleagues.

My only real criticism of the book is that the ending feels rushed. It’s a complete ending and all the loose ends are tied up but it just feels rushed. Basically, I finished it and wanted more.

The book is good and you should read it but I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge why this book is important to me. There have been so few opportunities in my life where I have been able to see myself in media. While, Mara and I are very different people with different disabilities, we still share common experiences. The way that Nicola Griffith navigates the nuances of disability feel more real than anything I’ve read by a nondisabled person. It is real and raw. Griffith doesn’t pull any punches just to seem more approachable for a nondisabled reader and even among what little fiction writing about disability by disabled writers there is, this is still a rarity.

I really hope that this will be the start of a trend and that there will be more books with unapologetically disabled characters that are written by people who really understand what that means.

So Lucky will be released on May 15, 2018 for more information on where and how you can purchase a copy click here.

 

How to support my work

I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

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If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

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If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

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April has Never Been About Autism Awareness, It has Always Been About Money

So April is over and with it “Autism Awareness Month” and what have we learned?

How much did you learn about autistic people?

Did you interact with autistic people?

What awareness campaigns did you participate in?

Did you give money to or purchase an item or service that shared a portion of the proceeds with an autism charity?

If you did the latter can you tell me the goals and intentions of that organization?

No?

I’m not surprised. Autism Awareness Month would more accurately be called “Autism Fundraising Month”. The month where everyone buys something with a puzzle piece on it and proclaims that they are raising awareness for autism. But what awareness is that? and has it done any good?

If you posted about the puzzle piece pedicure you got for Autism Awareness Month on Facebook and you can’t answer basic questions about autism much less the organization that benefitted from your spa day then you didn’t actually do anything for raising awareness. You attended a fundraiser and that is a different thing.

A fundraiser is an event where an organization solicits donations for their organization.

An awareness campaign should be where an organization starts putting that money to good use through meaningful, targeted learning objectives.

Getting a puzzle piece anything in April is really just a good way to show just how unaware of autistic people that you really are. The puzzle piece is, after all, a controversial image within the autistic community (here defined as actual autistic people only) many people do not like it. This information is pretty easy to find with a google search. And if you don’t actually care what actual autistic people think about things that directly impact them, then you can consider this academic study that came to the same conclusions (link leads to a paywall). The conclusions are pretty clear

If an organization’s intention for using puzzle-piece imagery is to evoke negative associations, our results suggest the organization’s use of puzzle-piece imagery is apt. However, if the organization’s intention is to evoke positive associations, our results suggest that puzzle-piece imagery should probably be avoided.

All those puzzle pieces and other vague statements of support for autistic people that nonautistic people proudly post about on social media do absolutely nothing to increase awareness and in some cases as with the wide array of autism inspired puzzle piece paraphernalia may actually be achieving the opposite of awareness. These images ultimately mislead people about what autism is and what it means to live in the world while autistic.

Beyond the fact that for the most part Autism Awareness Month campaigns have everything to do with fundraising and very little to do with awareness, the continued conflation of the two during April actively hurts autistic people. Not just because for an entire month we are inundated with distressing images that people have been misled into believing are helpful. Charities maintain a level of cultural status that often overshadows that of the people they claim to serve. So if an autistic person attempts to inform someone who has proudly displayed their participation in a fundraiser and presented it as an act of awareness raising that their action was at best meaningless and at worst actively harmful, that person is going to get defensive. It is not uncommon for people who have been challenged on their proud act of solidarity to shout down a member of the group they just publicly claimed to support. They’ll believe the charity over autistic people. Because the charity told them all they had to do was publicly say they supported autism awareness month and to put a slogan or a puzzle piece in some proximity to their person.

They were promised that an empty gesture and a financial donation were good enough. Being told that the action is functionally meaningless is unsurprisingly going to make them angry.

I’ve said it before that nondisabled people have set the bar for solidarity with disabled people at simply not actively hating us. But that tolerance only lasts until a disabled person tries to demand more. To demand real awareness and the accompanying acceptance that is really needed to raise our standing in society.

Yet, we must continue to call out individuals for their false solidarity. Nothing will change unless we do. People should not be left comfortably sitting in the lie that simply declaring solidarity and throwing money at a charity actually means that they care about autistic people.

Anyone who claims to have participated in an awareness campaign for any marginalized group of people should be able to answer the following questions.

What is your intention in publicly sharing your experiences with this campaign?

Who organized the campaign?

What does that group/organization do?

Were members of the group being advocated for involved in the planning and delivery of the campaign?

What do members of that group think about this kind of activity?

Did the campaign give you the opportunity to meaningfully engage with members of the group being advocated for?

What did you learn?

What information was new or surprising to you?

Can you explain the information you learned to someone else?

If you donated money, do you know what that money will be used for?

If answering any of those questions would be difficult for a person participating in your campaign then it has nothing to do with awareness and the responsible thing to do would be to remove any mention of awareness from the branding of that campaign.

Awareness requires that people know more than the basic fact that autistic people exist. If your version of awareness cannot lead to acceptance then your awareness is an illusion. You just want a metaphorical cookie for giving a charity money.

 

How to support my work

I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

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If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

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If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

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#HotPersonInAWheelchair and the Longevity of Bigotry

Four Years ago former Jeopardy Champion Ken Jennings tweeted an offensive joke

So, why am I writing about a four-year-old tweet? Isn’t it old news and basically irrelevant now?

Unfortunately, no. This tweet caused controversy at the time and because it is still online, people are still using it to harass disabled people. I had four people use it against me yesterday.

The problem with things like this is that they don’t just fade into obscurity. Periodically, someone comes across it and starts engaging with it again. The reason I was harassed (and yes I would classify it as harassment) about that tweet yesterday is because I commented about how people were still engaging with my response to the tweet. Which means people are still engaging with the tweet is still impacting people.

I tweeted my displeasure that Jennings hadn’t deleted it. He actually responded to me with this justification.

This seems like a good responsible take, except that it falls apart the second you remember that people are still being harmed by that tweet.

Twitter does not have a mechanism to encapsulate old problematic tweets with an explanation about how you now understand that it was harmful, that you regret doing it and you want to leave it up as a reminder of the harm it did. Even if Jennings wrote something to that effect among the replies, there are 1600 of them. People can hardly be blamed if they don’t know he’s sorry about it now. It also doesn’t stop the tweet from being used by others who do just think insulting wheelchair users is just hilarious.

A far better response would have been to take a screenshot and write and publish an apology and then delete the tweet. Jennings is famous enough that he could have found somewhere to publish that apology. Then he wouldn’t be whitewashing his past and he would have stopped the tweet that he supposedly now regrets from being used to harm others.

Someone accused me of just going looking for something to be angry about. They justified this argument based solely on the fact that the tweet is four years old and I talked about it yesterday.

But, it’s not going to find something that periodically shows up in my notifications. That’s just acknowledging that people are still interacting with four-year-old bigotry and that’s worth talking about. Bigotry doesn’t necessarily get stale and less bigoted with age.

You can’t absolve yourself from past bigotry if it is still harming people. Particularly if there is a way to stop that harm (in this case it’s as easy as deleting a tweet).

Jennings wants to be patted on the back for what amounts to fake contrition. I can’t believe any claim of taking responsibility if taking responsibility means justifying the continuation of harm.

One silver lining of this tweet’s latest resurgence is that it has inspired the #HotPersonInAWheelchair which is a brilliant celebration of disabled beauty and confidence. I do so love the confidence and snark of the disabled community.

Annie Segarra (you can support her on patreon. She also has a YouTube Channel) started it off with this

The whole hashtag is well worth a look, but be advised that some of the images may be NSFW. I certainly hope this protest will be stronger than the bigotry that inspired it.

Jennings should still delete that tweet though and finally really take responsibility for it by apologizing somewhere other than Twitter.

 

 

How to support my work

I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

Click Here to Donate

If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

Become a Patron!

If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

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If you want to support my work but are unable to do so financially, please share this post on your various social media accounts.

Reflecting on the Fact that Hans Asperger was Really a Nazi and not just Working from the Inside to Protect Vulnerable People

There have been a couple major articles written about Hans Asperger, the man who categorized what would eventually be called Asperger’s Syndrome and then eventually just folded into the autism spectrum. These articles, the first of which was printed in the New York Times and the second in The Guardian both discuss Asperger’s history prior to and during WWII. A lot of English language research about Asperger has framed him as a man who protected disabled people from the harsher and more lethal aspects of the Nazi’s euthanasia programs. New research that did not rely so much on texts that had already been translated into English paint a much less flattering picture of Hans Asperger. This new research more clearly indicates that Asperger was not altruistic in his actions and personally made decisions that led to the deaths of disabled people.

I was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome thirteen years ago. So how do I feel about the fact that the man who lends his name to a diagnosis I was given (Asperger’s is no longer an officially recognized diagnosis. As of the publication of the DSM V the diagnosis is just considered part of the autism spectrum)?

I’m completely unsurprised to be honest.

Part of this is probably because I never read books like Neurotribes or Asperger and his Syndrome (link leads to a paywall). Both are considered influential works on autism and both paint a kinder picture of Asperger either by glossing over his Nazi ties or suggesting he actually protected his patients from the Nazis. I have no preconceived notions to be challenged in the face of this new information.

Additionally, I’m aware enough of the history of men who are credited with discovering or categorizing other disabilities and that history suggests that if people googled their condition’s namesakes, a lot of people would be uncomfortable disclosing their diagnoses just to avoid association with the people whose names are attached.

Consider John Langdon Down, the man who categorized Down Syndrome. He initially called the condition “Mongolian Idiocy” and if that sounds really racist, it’s because it is. He called it that because he believed that people with intellectual disabilities were evidence of evolutionary throwbacks. He believed that people of colour were less evolved than white people and thus inferior. He further believed that because he could find similar physical traits between certain disabilities in white people and nondisabled people of colour that this meant that they were genetically similar racially. Basically, intellectually people were inferior because they weren’t genetically white.

He was a real winner. You can read more about his theories on race and disability in his 1866 paper Observations on the Ethnic Classification of Idiots. It’s awful so I don’t recommend it.

Ironically, Down Syndrome only became known as Down Syndrome after people finally clued into the fact that the term Mongolian Idiocy is just deeply offensive, so they changed the name to include the name of the man that invented that ableist and racist name for ableist and racist reasons.

I’d really like to sit those people down and ask them what they were thinking.

I’ve never identified as an “Aspie” as many people who received an Asperger’s diagnosis do. I have always felt that autistic far better described my experience and was just easier for other people to understand. So I don’t need to figure out what this means in relation to a label I identify with. I am also unsurprised that Asperger himself would have landed me with the not so flattering label of “autistic psychopath”.

It is interesting that these men didn’t name these conditions after themselves. Other people chose to do that after the terms those men came up with were recognized as harmful.

I am also aware that there is some concern about the revelations about Asperger in relations to people who actively identify as Aspies. There is a socially constructed hierarchy of autism which is usually defined by functioning labels. These are often distilled into high and low functioning. These kind of labels are harmful and many within the autistic community fight against them. Asperger’s Syndrome was considered a milder (read ‘higher functioning’) form of autism so some people who identify as Aspies use their specific diagnosis as a way to signal their place at the top of the hierarchy.

While this behaviour (and yes I know it wasn’t everyone so please no angry comments about how “You’re an Aspie but not like that”) was always harmful to the autistic community at large. There is now a sense that it is even more sinister considering the revelations about how involved Hans Asperger actually was with Naziism.

On that note I’d say, things aren’t worse because a Nazi did it first. The Nazis hold the place in our collective anger, fear and hatred because they did those awful things as a democratically elected (at least at first) and widely supported political movement and governing structure. They weren’t just awful people. They tried and succeeded within their own culture in making bigotry a culturally moral imperative.

So while the parallel is clearly troubling and uncomfortable. People who hold or have held feelings of superiority because of their specific Asperger’s diagnosis are still bad but no worse simply because we now know that Asperger was a Nazi. Their misdeeds are their own.

As for people who simply identify as Aspies because it was a way to claim community, the answer is less clear. While people should be able to identify however they want and Asperger’s name being attached to their diagnosis was a decision made in the 1980s by someone who wasn’t Hans Asperger. Asperger never put his name on the condition, it isn’t a way of claiming ownership or being given ownership of the people who have that label. So in that context, the term Asperger’s is relatively neutral. However, while people may individually decide that they are still comfortable with the label, they can’t force other people to be.

These revelations will inevitably stigmatize the name generally. More specifically because of how many different marginalized groups were targeted by the Nazis, there are just a lot of people who will understandably want to distance themselves from any reminder of that history of violence and genocide.

I suspect that we will see far fewer people identifying as Aspies. This has I think already started since already fewer people will be hearing that term at the point of diagnosis because it isn’t an official diagnosis anymore.

As a final thought…

Can people just stop naming medical diagnoses after the people who first categorized them? Particularly if the term is being changed specifically because that scientist gave it a horribly offensive name, to begin with.

It’s bad enough that people try and define us by our diagnoses. We really don’t need to be defined by our vague association with the people who first studied us too.

 

 

How to support my work

I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

Click Here to Donate

If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

Become a Patron!

If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

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If you want to support my work but are unable to do so financially, please share this post on your various social media accounts.

I Like That, I Want That, Can I Have That?: When NonAutistic People Don’t Understand Autistic Communication and Punish Us For It.

When I was a child and I answered the phone I didn’t say “hello”, I said “What?”. My mother was constantly horrified at my supposed rudeness and would try and make sure that someone, anyone got to the phone before me.

The thing is though, that I wasn’t being rude or at least I didn’t think so. I was just responding to people on the phone the same way I would to someone who called to me from somewhere else in the house.

When my mother wanted me for something, she would yell my name from the foot of the stairs and I would respond with “WHAT?” I was never penalized for this and I just assumed that if someone was calling you then asking them what they wanted was kind of useful information to gather. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was just transferring how I communicated in person to how I communicated on the phone.

If someone called to me in person, I responded with “what?” or “yeah?”. No one bothered to explain to me the difference of in person communication and communicating on the phone. So I kept getting in trouble for how I answered the phone and I never understood why.

I was always being told I was being rude when I couldn’t figure out why. It was only years later that I realized that because of the ways neurotypicals have coded language, they always interpreted the words I said as meaning something else.

This is most clearly noticeable in how I used the phrases “I like that”, “I want that” and “Can I have that?”. To me, those things express three different things but apparently to everyone else they only mean two.

Every time I said “I want that” people acted like I was asking for whatever I was referring to. I wasn’t. There was no request in the statement. I hadn’t asked for it. I was conveying the level of how much I liked it. It was an expression of envy, not demand.

While it’s true that I probably wouldn’t have complained if I was handed the object of desire, I understood that asking for things was rude. I was also aware that if I simply said that I liked something, that people would not know to what extent that I liked it. Was it something that just gave me fleeting pleasure or was it something that I would think about and remember and miss.

After, what was probably well over the hundredth time that I had been lectured about not constantly asking for things when I had simply expressed that “I wanted something”. I explained the difference in how I used language. I explained that I wasn’t asking for whatever trinket had fascinated me but differentiating between the things that I simply liked and the things I actively wanted to own. I understood that I wasn’t going to be given the thing.

This, however, didn’t build a bridge of better communication. It created a flustered lecturer who couldn’t figure out how I had come to think that words could be used so literally. I just had to be forced into more standard patterns of communication.

These distinctions may seem obvious or less rude now in a world where it is not uncommon for people to publicly declare a desire for things that they probably won’t ever own. A single all caps “WANT” in a tweet quoting another tweet featuring a luxury item is pretty common on Twitter. Or that same “WANT” posted as a comment on Facebook or Instagram is also a not infrequent occurrence.

At least I was using full sentences and expressing my desire with significantly calmer.

Nondisabled people far too often defend poorly conceived acts of “solidarity” that miss the mark by drawing attention to their intentions. They want to avoid consequences for the impact of their actions because they “didn’t mean it”.

Autistic people do not get the privilege of cloaking themselves in the armour of intentions even if their faux pas is just a failure of empathy and accommodation on the part of the person castigating them.

Autistic people have long been characterized as unempathetic little shits who lack theory of mind (the ability to place themselves in the shoes of others). Much new research rejects this and theorizes a different issue.

The Double Empathy Problem which posits that misunderstandings in communication are a two-way street, as much hampered by nonautistic people’s inability to empathize with autistic people.

Even though I could explain what I meant, I was miscommunicating and was rude. There was only ever need for me to change. Not the person who consistently and often willfully misunderstood me. They knew what I meant. I’d explained it clearly but I had to shift into an imprecise way of speech that was completely unnatural to me. It’s not something that I mastered until after I was diagnosed and could understand why I behaved differently than society expected me too.

The fact that I had a biologically ingrained reason for being the way I was, rather than a society which just uncritically follows and enforces cultural mores was irrelevant. The onus has always been on me to change to suit the comforts of neurotypicals. They never have to hold space for discomfort. They never have to hold awareness of me and my fellow autistics. They get to categorically define our behaviour as rude and wrong so that they do not need to empathize with us. We however, must constantly hold all that space and all that knowledge of their confusing expectations. They demand empathy without reciprocation. It is a wholely unequal power dynamic.

It is a battle we will inevitably lose because we are fighting against our very natures, simply to be allowed to exist in common space with neurotypical people and it’s a losing battle to fight your biology. We will always fall short of expectations and our “rudeness” is used to justify our exclusion.

 

 

How to support my work

I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

Click Here to Donate

If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

Become a Patron!

If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

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If you want to support my work but are unable to do so financially, please share this post on your various social media accounts.

Unbelievable Pain: 10 Years of Being Told I was Overreacting to Chronic Pain

I’ve been wearing glasses for the vast majority of my life. I think I got my first pair when I was one. While I can’t say that my history with glasses has been completely uneventful (I am autistic after all), most of my issues stemmed from dealing with getting a new pair adjusted comfortably (AKA my mother’s worst nightmare), then any issues were either routine maintenance—getting a nose pad realigned after one got bent—or because the glasses were faulty—I do not miss that pair of glasses from when I was ten that was constantly losing screws and had the lens fall out about once a week. So, when I was twenty-one and my glasses felt tight behind my ears, I assumed that I either needed to get them adjusted or buy a bigger pair.

The thing is neither worked. When adjustment failed to make my glasses comfortable, I bought a new pair but that didn’t work either. So, I exchanged them for another pair. I was still in pain and the pain was spreading and getting worse. What had started out as pain where the arms touched my head now also hurt pretty much everywhere glasses touched my face. Particularly on my nose. Just taking the glasses off wasn’t enough to stop the pain. It would throb for days.

All of this was going on for months and everywhere I turned people dismissed my pain as just my being autistic and not being able to deal with a little discomfort. Regardless of the fact that I had been successfully wearing glasses without major incident for two decades. I couldn’t wear contacts so I started complaining to doctors.

At first, I was largely dismissed. I was told I was overreacting or that it was all in my head, but I wouldn’t shut up about it. Even though I always described the pain as feeling like it was on the surface of my skin, the doctor decided that it might be an inner ear issue or something with my sinuses, I was referred to an Ear Nose & Throat specialist who found nothing even after a CT scan.

I was still in pain though and it was getting worse. By this time, I could barely stand to wear glasses for any length of time and when I did my right ear would wiggle involuntarily every time I spoke, smiled or ate something causing my glasses to jiggle up and down on my face causing more pain from the friction.

I stopped wearing glasses entirely (my eyesight wasn’t great but I could manage) and the stress from the pain and not being able to find a solution resulted in long-term insomnia which in turn led to migraines.

The doctors decided that it had been migraines all along despite this pain being separate from what I had already described. They decided to check if I had hydrocephalus which involves a spinal tap and at least two MRIs. Spinal taps suck on their own but they also cause hideous migraines. On the day of my second MRI, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t bear to stay vertical. I also couldn’t get to the hospital for my MRI because it was Winter in Saskatchewan and there was so much snow that a bus had gotten stuck at one end of our road and the tow truck sent to get it out was stuck at the other. I eventually got the MRI and I don’t have hydrocephalus. I was diagnosed with an unspecified migraine disorder and given Elavil.

Elavil pretty effectively dealt with my insomnia which dealt with the migraines. It didn’t touch the pain on my face or on my temples. I still couldn’t wear glasses.

An optician recommended that I try a pair of ultralight titanium frames. They cost about $900. I was desperate and convinced my mother to buy them for me. They weighed nothing. They still hurt my face. After what feels like dozens of adjustments (you think I’m exaggerating but I’m not, that optician is a saint) I finally got them to a place where I could tolerate them for a few hours at a time. I basically only wore them when I left the house. I took them off the second I got home.

At that point, I hadn’t worn glasses in about three years.

Whenever my prescription changed, I would just have the lenses replaced on that pair with a promise from the optician that nothing about the frame would be moved during the process of changing the lenses. Alas, eventually opticians refused to change the lenses claiming that the frames were so old that they didn’t have the structural integrity to undergo another set of lenses. I could no longer forego glasses, so I just had to try and make do.

This generally meant smothering my glasses in moleskin, a first-aid product that is soft and fuzzy on one side and sticky on the other. I put that stuff everywhere, on the nose pads, on the arms. It wasn’t pretty but it was the only thing that made glasses tolerable.

I was still trying to figure out why I was in so much pain but doctors had more or less stopped paying attention to me when I complained about it. My glasses still hurt and I still wasn’t wearing them as much as I should but everyone was telling me that my pain was irrational. They’d been telling me that for nearly a decade. I started to believe it. I know people reading this right now think I’m full of shit. I started to believe that I must not be buying the “right” glasses. It turned into anxiety that would see me panic purchase glasses that I couldn’t afford because maybe just maybe these ones would be different. No matter the style, no matter how different from other glasses that I’d tried, they never worked. I was still in pain.

Fast forward to late last year. I got a medical marijuana prescription for pain associated with my cerebral palsy. Suddenly the pain was gone. Not 100%, I knew it was there but it was mostly an irritation. I can ignore an irritation. There are still glasses that I can’t seem to wear. Metal frames with nose pads will irritate my nose too much for full day wear but I can stand them for short periods of time. I have better luck with plastic frames.

Suddenly, because I had figured out how to treat the pain, my doctor started taking it more seriously. I got a referral to a neurologist and three weeks ago tomorrow I was finally diagnosed with Atypical Facial Pain (sometimes referred to as Persistent Idiopathic Facial Pain).

The weird thing is that while I feel vindicated and deep down knew my pain was real. The doubt and gaslighting I experienced in over a decade of pain has had an impact. One of the unfortunate issues with the way Canada handles legal medical marijuana is that patients don’t always have consistent access to certain products. My supplier was out of CBD for months (yes for nonCanadians who might be used to CBD being considered legally separate from marijuana. In Canada, CBD is considered weed and you need a special kind of prescription to get it) and the came back. Yet some part of my brain had somehow convinced itself that maybe I had been making it all up. I’d been pain-free for weeks after all. So, I ended up experiencing a lot of denial when the pain came back even though I didn’t have access to the medication I was using to control it.

This is the price of people not believing your pain. You can’t even look at it objectively anymore. I will likely need to manage this pain for the rest of my life and I’ll probably have periods where I’m still convinced it’s all in my head for at least a long time to come despite the vast difference in quality of life that pain treatment gives me and the fact that I’ll also very likely have periodic reminders of just how real my pain is because I only have intermittent access to medication. CBD is out of stock at my supplier again, so I’m probably in for a reminder soon.

 

 

How to support my work and a not so subtle request that you help me buy drugs. Medical Marijuana isn’t covered by most health insurance providers in Canada and the few that do only do it on a case by case basis so I’m paying out of pocket for necessary pain intervention and this has taken a toll on my already precarious financial situation.

If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

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If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

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I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

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Why Everyone Thinks that They Care About Disability Rights When They Really Don’t

On Thursday, Rachel Maddow asked “Who campaigns on gutting the American’s with Disabilities Act?” in a segment that included no interviews with disabled people.

She asks the question and seems to understand that the answer is “no, one” but she fails to ask or investigate why no one would ever openly say

“Send me to Washington, I’m going to stick it to disabled people. Send me to Washington and when I take my votes, you’ll see blind people, and people in wheelchairs being hauled out of the gallery in the house and arrested because I’m taking away the most important parts of the most important legislation that has integrated disabled people into mainstream life and American public accommodation”

or have an

“I’m a wheelchair user’s worst enemy caucus”

but still, vote in favour of legislation that will invariably harm disabled people.

Because, to be clear, this question isn’t just about the HR 620 vote that Maddow is addressing in that segment. That’s just the latest example of the say one thing but do the opposite phenomenon that is an all too common aspect of disability-specific legislation and policy in the United Staes and beyond.

This phenomenon was also front and centre in every attempt to repeal the Affordable Care Act.

It is present in the continuing controversy about austerity measures and benefits cuts in the United Kingdom.

It can be found in the fact that Toronto’s Transit Commission is unlikely to meet the goal of making all subway stations accessible by 2025 as the Access for Ontarians with Disabilities Act (AODA) requires.

This is a really common thing. You ask a random sampling of nondisabled people if they support more rights and opportunities for disabled people and the majority if not all will emphatically respond with a “yes”

If you ask them to follow through with the actions needed to make that ideology a practical reality, suddenly they’re either no longer available or they start making excuses.

There are a number of factors at work here, to create this paradoxical reality where disability rights are being clawed back or are under threat and yet most people when asked will passionately claim that they love disabled people and want them to thrive. It would take more space than I’m sure you have attention for to go through all of it (it could fill several books) but I’ll try and go through a few of issues at play. It all boils down to a single idea though.

The bar for what constitutes solidarity for disabled people is so low that simply not actively hating us is considered a radical act. Put another way, people have convinced themselves that simply reacting with the appropriate emotion is considered an act of resistance. As opposed to actually acting to resist systems that oppress disabled people.

Some of this is culturally constructed. One of the big reasons people can say one thing but let the opposite thing happen is because of how we understand poverty.

Western cultures all generally have some kind of understanding that there are portions of the population that are going to require assistance. They may differ on how they think those people should be helped. Should the government be in charge? Should it be nonprofits? Should we leave it to religious institutions?

Ultimately, who’s in charge is irrelevant because inevitably people are fine with the amorphous idea that people who are poor, sick, disabled, or elderly need and deserve assistance. Problems show up as soon as people start to act on those ideas and the need is too great for the resources available. Instead of looking for more resources, people start debating about “who really deserves to be helped”.

That’s where narratives of the lazy poor or benefits cheats come from. Not because those are widespread phenomena but because doubt is useful to people who either don’t know how to help or feel that too much is being asked of them. So they come up with excuses about why the person who needs help isn’t really deserving after all.

Disabled people have long found themselves firmly in the category of people deemed worthy of assistance but they often don’t get it. Consider the “ugly laws”, a set of policies and bylaws often incorrectly assumed to ban disabled people from public spaces outright. They were, in fact, more accurately anti-vagrancy laws. They were often premised on the idea that disabled people were justified in begging. The problem was they were convinced that people were faking disabilities to unfairly gain sympathy.

While that undoubtedly did happen it likely wasn’t as widespread as people thought. The suggestion that, that beggar might be faking his war wound was enough doubt to allow people to not only feel justified but righteous in not giving the poor money. “The ugly law” also allowed for people who were begging to be removed from the streets. Often specifically under the guise of removing the “riff-raff” so that the truly deserving poor would not be disadvantaged.

That dichotomy of the deserving and undeserving poor allows for people to maintain the idea that they want to help poor and disadvantaged people (the deserving poor) while putting up ever more restrictive barriers to getting access to that assistance (the actual poor…excuse me the “deserving” poor).

A lot of social services are delivered with expansive mission statements that do not seem to match the output of those services.

Disabled people, in general, have theoretically maintained “deserving” status throughout the history of social services in the last few centuries. Yet we remain underserved.

The rhetoric never seems to match the output.

Consider how British Prime Minister Theresa May talks about Personal Independence Payments (AKA PIP a financial benefit for disabled people in Britain) in the midst of real concerns over the impact of cuts. These statements were made in the context of there being clear identifiable harms happening as a direct result of government policy.

“If you look at what we’ve been doing on disability benefits, what we have done is look at focusing disability benefit payments on those who are most in need. In fact, we are spending more on disability benefit payments than has been done by any government in the past,” she replied.” (emphasis mine)…

“We have changed the way that disability benefits have been paid and I know there are some issues that people continue to raise about assessments that are made on those payments. But we will continue to be moving to a system that ensures we are supporting those most in need.” (emphasis mine)

In the face of cuts, the official line is still “the people who need it are getting help” the implication is thought that the people who saw their payments cut or lost benefits altogether are no longer in need. So, if they complain they are lazy scroungers.

It doesn’t matter that the restructuring of benefits did not come as a result, a large scale movement of disabled people into work. People were not becoming spontaneously cured. Their needs didn’t change. The only difference is how the government defined them.

People also can’t seem to remember that disabled people deserve access to public spaces the second money comes up. It’s always too expensive to make things accessible. That’s the basic crux of HR 620, the legislation seeking to gut the ADA.

It’s just really unfair that people have to actually make an effort to make their businesses accessible. It’s a step too far. Can’t we all feel really good that the ADA exists? Do we really have to follow it through? Can’t we just bask in the glow of the intentions behind it?

Though as the Toronto Transit example points out even keeping accessibility legislation as is won’t stop people from not following through with its requirements if they can claim it’s too expensive.

I wonder sometimes how much it costs to build steps. To pour the concrete for that one step into a building. How much do stairs cost to go between floors? How much does building the accessibility of nondisabled people cost? Is it more than a ramp? Is it more than the lowered sink and tilted mirror in the bathroom? Did the other sinks and mirrors cost so much more? or is it just that the things that accommodate disabled people in those spaces are always seen as extra?

Disabled people are a cultural paradox. We are both widely considered deserving of rights and dignity but if we are denied them, little is done and excuses are made.

The fact that disabled people are now more likely to demand meaningful inclusion and not simply settle for the subsistence of charity has also challenged the historically paternalistic view of disabled people.

They are supposed to save us. Often from the ravages of our own bodies and minds. We are not supposed to say that we really need saving from exclusion and systems that keep us in poverty.

Unfortunately, people still look to charity as not only the best way to assist disabled. On this front charities are fundamentally failing the people they claim to want to help. Awareness is big business but the bar is unfortunately not set at meaningful understanding of the cultural and economic status of disabled people. They instead far too often ask only for sentiments. In short, they ask for nondisabled people to affirm that they do not hate us.

From the Cerebral Palsy Foundation’s functionally meaningless “Just Say Hi” campaign which basically asks that people prove that they are not afraid of disabled people by saying “hi” to them.

It doesn’t interrogate why people are uncomfortable around disabled people. It doesn’t question whether disabled people want to be said “hi” too just because they’re disabled. It doesn’t consider how this campaign contributes to a toxic culture of voyeurism that strips disabled people of privacy.

Easterseals has recently rolled out its Celebrate, Don’t Separate campaign which is supposedly about changing the way people see disability. The campaign is filled with the voices of disabled people explaining how they want to be seen.

What action then does Easterseals recommend people do?

Do they want you to call your government representatives and demand action on inclusion in the workforce or in education?

No

Do they want you to consider ways that you can make your home/workplace/school more accessible?

No

Do they want you to donate money to create a fund to invest in accessible infrastructure?

No

They want you to take a photo of you hooking your index finger with someone else’s and posting on social media.

I can’t think of a more empty gesture.

We already know that people find it all too easy to express warm and fuzzy sentiments about disabled people. It’s the work of making those sentiments a practical reality that they can’t seem to grasp.

Empty gestures that lack meaningful action only reinforce the idea that conjuring up the right emotion is a radical act. It lets people think that they are either helping or at least not contributing to the problem as long as they can call up a warm and fuzzy feeling at the general concept of inclusion without having to create it. The fact that we don’t live in a world that can live up to the intentions of existing policies and legislation is largely irrelevant.

Hell, we live in a world where those intentions are held up as evidence of success even as they clearly haven’t been lived up too or are being actively undermined.

Any campaign built on recruiting sentiment instead of action needs to be abandoned.

If you claim to care about disabled people and our rights, be prepared to act in defence of them.

Here are some things that you can actually do.

Call politicians about bad disability-related legislation.

Attend protests in support of disability issues. Don’t just gasp and clutch your pearls when ADAPT activists are being arrested and dragged out of their wheelchairs. If they get arrested, you should step into the protest in their place.

Donate to charities and organizations that are run by and for disabled people

Support disabled content creators. Put money in the hands of disabled people.

Do not hide behind a generic feeling of fellowship and good intentions. Make sure those intentions are matched by measurable outcomes.

 

 

How to support my work

I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe

Click Here to Donate

If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.

Become a Patron!

If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

If you want to support my work but are unable to do so financially, please share this post on your various social media accounts.