All the ways You Can Support Me Completing My PhD in Critical Disability Studies

Image Description: A white woman with blond hair and glasses is smiling at the camera while wearing a white button down oxford shirt under a green cardigan
Image Description: A white woman with blond hair and glasses is smiling at the camera while wearing a white button down oxford shirt under a green cardigan

Don’t I look scholarly? Don’t actually answer that it’s a purely subjective question. As you may or may not know (depending on if this is your first time here) I am currently in year 5 of my PhD and it’s time to get this show on the road. I still have a few requirements that I need to meet called comprehensive exams before I can start on my dissertation properly.

I am forever a PhD student and never a PhD candidate (you aren’t a candidate until you are in dissertation phase)

My future dissertation is tentatively titled “We Still Hide Mad Women in the Attic: An autoethnographic study of how disabled/mad women are treated when I try to take public space.

The dissertation will be an in depth autobiography of my life largely lived in both socially curated and physically forced isolation. My story will be juxtaposed with the real life stories of the mad women history hid away n attics or asylums. The story of hidden disabled and mad women now and in history would not be complete without an understanding of the mad woman in culture. Am I my own person or am I little more than Bertha Rochester raving in her attic for the sole purpose of creating the moral conundrum “is it wrong to cheat on one’s mentally ill wife” (the answer is yes by the way).

In order to complete this research I am going to need to do a lot of reading (of course). My preference for reading academically is to use kindle books on a iPad because it makes taking and organizing notes simple There are, however, a number of books that cannot be had in kindle format. To that end I have created an amazon wish list specific to the books that cannot be gotten in kindle format (I may add more later). That list is

Books I need for my book audit comprehensive exam that cannot be bought for kindle

I have created a similar list for my dissertation at large but the time frame for that isn’t as pressing

Dissertation Books not to found on Kindle

Unfortunately, ebooks are themselves not free and while the selection of academic books now available for kindle is growing but so is the price of ebooks. If you would like to help with my real book fund. You can send me an Amazon Gift Card to

kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

(this is not my personal email, I will not be answering queries through it. Find me on Twitter if you want to talk)

You can also support me directly financially in a number of ways.

You can sponsor me for a monthly amount on patreon

If you are only able to make a one time contribution you can transfer money to my paypal

If you enjoy a little whimsy with you direct giving you can buy me a coffee (contributions must be in multiples of three uses paypal)

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

If you prefer to buy me something that would improve my quality of life

I have a disability accessibility wish list too

If the idea of using a third party site makes you uncomfortable, you can also send me an interac e money transfer direct from your bank account to the email,

kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

All items and monies received will be used directly to fund my PhD, maintain the running of this blog and cover living expenses (can’t get a PhD if you are homeless and have no food).

If you cannot support me financially but still want to help, share this post widely. Share my other work widely (I get a tiny bit of ad revenue)

As always thank you for your support, I can’t wait to get into the meat of this dissertation. The stories of disabled people are important and far to often not told or worse, told by someone else.

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The Emperor Wore Jorts: An Autopsy of the CUPE 3903 2018 Strike from the Perspective of a Disabled Union Member

Image description: Geese blocking traffic as though they are a picket line
Image description: Geese blocking traffic as though they are a picket line

The CUPE 3903 York University strike is not a topic on which I am an expert. I was an active local member throughout the strike that lasted from March 5- July 25 2018. It was a surreal experience not least of all because no one expected the strike to go on that long and yet the fact that we hold the record for longest post-secondary strike in Canada happened with almost no external notice. I myself was in Ireland attending a Summer Law Institute the day we broke the record. My return to Canada in late June was a return to the picket line that I had left.

Image description: Me in Ireland My hair is also on vacation and is trying to get to know my glasses better by being shoved forward in a blond triangle
Image description: Me in Ireland My hair is also on vacation and is trying to get to know my glasses better by being shoved forward in a blond triangle

This is not going to be an in depth autopsy of the strike but rather the recollections of a single member who was keen to actively participate but who like many rank and file members of the local were isolated from those making decisions which often led to a distorted understanding of what was going on at any given time. Even in hindsight, I can’t put all of the pieces together on how we could achieve a moment in Canadian history (that admittedly no one but us cares about) considering all of the incompetence that has been revealed since the strike ended. I can’t help but believe that the local executive’s incompetence and  unwillingness to reconsider tactics is precisely why the strike dragged on as long as it did while we union members have few if any gains to show for our months of picketing.

From an individual standpoint, the strike is best understood through the rumours that ran through the picket lines and how we all got hyped up on small political wins we didn’t really understand. There is no single individual who can be blamed for the disastrous outcome of the 2018 CUPE 3903 York University Strike. I think it can be said however, that our local chairperson was the emperor with no clothes and yet he was treated as though he was draped in Armani (he has since been accused of sexual misconduct. Both the local and CUPE National are subject to HRTO complaints).

I showed up to picket on the first Monday of the strike. That first week I lasted three days before my body rebelled. Three days a week of picketing was the maximum my body could handle. I was already trying with little success to get what were called 8th line accommodations (there were 7 physical picket lines on campus). The union local equity officer didn’t think my doctors note was specific enough. After a strongly worded response explaining how medical notes are secret codes that mean more than what they say, my accommodations were approved.

I was sent a nonsensical quiz to see what 8th line work I’d be interested in. Nothing made it clear what kind of work you would be doing. My first job assignment that I turned town in a genuine panic was a managerial position. I can’t even remember for what anymore. I just knew I should not be overseeing people in such a chaotic situation.

At the time I just thought it was just people getting their bearings at the beginning of the strike but things never improved. Weird things started happening like a member of the local executive unilaterally decided to hire the graduate/faculty café to provide food for the strikers at an astonishing cost of about $10,000/week. The food was frequently inedible.

Image description: My smiling wearing a blue hat ,sweater and sunglasses/ I'm smiling while cuddling a husky. Strike dogs made the strike more bearable
Image description: My smiling wearing a blue hat ,sweater and sunglasses/ I’m smiling while cuddling a husky. Strike dogs made the strike more bearable

This wasn’t a day one decision. For a while the Sikh Temple provided our meals. It was a lovely arrangement of solidarity. It is also understandable that they could not reasonably be expected to keep feeding us for five months. The $10,000/week alternative was definitely bad though.

As for my 8th line accommodation, I briefly ran the CUPE 3903 Strike blog. An endeavor I created myself because of my discomfort with the way the communications team seemed to have no policies for content or quality control. They asked people to use their own social media accounts. There was no cohesive message. Embarrassing gaffes were made. At least with my little strike blog, I could keep things to union releases only and feel relatively confident that I wasn’t accidentally undermining the strike.

I was a passionate union member. For the first half of the strike I don’t think I forfeited a single picketing hour. Eventually the hits start getting to you or the wins turn out not to be the wind you thought they were.

We had the misfortune of going on strike during a provincial election. This fact alone is a big reason the strike lasted as long as it did. Initially the outgoing premier said she would not be legislating us back to work but as the election loomed large, one of her last acts in provincial parliament was to try to legislate us back so that we would not be on strike throughout the campaign season. Through a technicality I don’t understand where the New Democrats blocked the move, we were not legislated back to work. However, due to both the union’s and employers bargaining styles (employer says no, union has no actual functional strategy, just my personal theory) the fact that the strike would last through the election was almost assured.

Image Description: My epic strike fashion of a hat, sunglasses, plaid shirt and khaki pants and for some reason Christmas themed painted nails
Image Description: My epic strike fashion of a hat, sunglasses, plaid shirt and khaki pants and for some reason Christmas themed painted nails

In Ontario, the employer can bypass membership once to force a vote on a contract. We called it the Rat Vote and we defeated it handily. Both the Rat and Wynn failing to legislate us back felt like wins at the time. It felt like we were truly denouncing the employers offensive offer but these things really just delayed the end of the strike further. The longevity of the strike created cracks within the membership that had been simmering. Conspiracy theories flew fast and furious. Actual conversations were had round what kind of Marxists the various cliques were and if they were the “evil” kind of Marxists (there may have been rumours of a Maoist cult).

The labour movement might be based on Marxist ideals but I’m pretty sure you can plan and execute a strike without even knowing that there is more than one school of Marxism. The real issue of the longevity of the strike is that from a bargaining standpoint we were stuck and from a financial standpoint we were broke (that whole $10,000/week for good thing was a really bad idea). The union had made a number of financial missteps but the election wasn’t over so neither was the strike.

The strike dragging on this long had pretty obvious consequences. We lost a lot of the early vocal support and strike fatigue made it hard to get people to even show up to the picket lines. The decision was made to consolidate the existing seven picketing locations to two. One of the immediate results of that was the unintentional culling of several more local members from regular picketing because they couldn’t navigate the new social dynamics created by picketing with different people after months and for half those people doing it in a different place.

Picketing locations had originally been organized by academic program, so all the critical disability studies students (many of whom are disabled) who did not do permanent 8th line work had spent the first portion of the strike with the same people who had adapted our picketing strategy and space around accessibility. While we were lucky to bring our merry band of chaotic accessibility with us, not everyone at the new location was as committed to making sure the disabled members of the local got to participate in picketing.

One of the earliest accommodations for disabled picketers who were actually walking the line was the provision of chairs. Each picket line was provided with chairs but they were largely an accommodation for disabled members. I got in a confrontation about my right to sit down with a man who had been monopolizing a chair. He questioned my disability status. He questioned the disability status of the other people sitting in chairs (can confirm I knew them all to be disabled). He, ultimately, let me have the chair but he felt he had been wronged. He was eventually asked to leave the picketing area for making a scene. He returned the next day and tried to get public support for the “harm I did him” I really don’t know. It escalated onto one of the union listservs (not one I had access to).

It was decided that this incident needed to be brought to the membership at an SGMM (special general membership meeting, they happen weekly during strikes). That week’s SGMM was to be held at OISE (Ontario Institute for Studies in Education) at the U of T. I had designated a friend to speak on my behalf because, I no longer felt safe on the picket line. We sat through the usual SGMM filler, we went through the minutes. I can’t remember what exactly made the SGMM drag on (there was always something dragging those out) but just as it was about time for my friend to advocate on my behalf, several disgruntled members of the local’s unit 2 (contract faculty) decided to start a shoving match of the hallway at OISE at the University of Toronto. The local Chair had to immediately end the session to try and put a stop to the drama in hallway.

I ended up needing to be escorted to the subway by a friend.

My presence on the picket line was spotty after that. We tried again to bring up ableism on the picket line at the next SGMM but by then the hallway fight from the previous week had changed the tone of the meeting and it didn’t feel like anything was accomplished. I never really felt comfortable on the picket line going forward. I’d show up more to visit with friends I knew would be there than out of real fervor for the cause.

The strike was finally ended on July 25, 2018 by Doug Ford’s conservative government. The union is fighting the constitutionality of that back to work legislation. If they win, I hope they have a better strategy for the next time they are sitting across the table from our employer.

How to Support My Work

So now for the very in depth appeal for support for mu PhD. Please read through there are so many ways to help, including just sharing this blog post on social media.

Kindle ebooks read on my iPad are the easiest way for me to read and take notes unfortunately Amazon does not allow people to buy ebooks for others through their wishlist system. I have an amazon wishlist anyway as some of the books can only be purchased in print or from third party sellers because they are out of print. If you could buy me one of the books that can only be had in print, I would greatly appreciate it. If you want to help fund the ebooks I’ll need you can buy me a gift card and send it to the following email address

The email is kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

I will not be answering queries about my research through this email. It is solely a way for people who want to support my work to be able to do so. (this is a safety boundary). If you want to talk to me, find me on Twitter.

My research and supporting myself will get past the reading phase and there will be field work in my future. If you would like to help me fund my PhD in the long term you can

support me on patreon

Become a Patron!

buy me a ko-fi

send me money via paypal

send an e money transfer to the email above (if you have scruples about third party sites)

I also have a generic disability wish list of things that would just improve my quality of life

Thank you for your ongoing support. and just an FYI I’m changing my name socially to Kimberley Jane Erin. You can call me Kim or Jane but I prefer Jane. I am however, not the least uncomfortable with Kim so don’t worry about messing up.

It’s time I really leaned into my identity as a scholar. I hope you’ll support me

Redefining Independence on the Psych Ward

Image description: A blond white woman wearing a blue, shirt,beige shorts and a fanny pack, walks out of some tall grass arms outstretched
Image description: A blond white woman wearing a blue, shirt,beige shorts and a fanny pack, walks out of some tall grass arms outstretched

I recently spent eight days in the Humber River Hospital psych ward. It was a strange experience, made stranger by the fact that my presence on the ward made it an atypical experience not just for but for those who work there as well.

There are two things that made my stay on the psych ward difficult. First no one told me anything. There’s a welcome package, they apparently give new patients when they arrive on the ward. I received this package the night before I was discharged. So I spent the entire time on the ward not knowing what was expected of me. This was conveniently or inconveniently (depending on your perspective) overcome by the fact that the psych ward was almost entirely inaccessible to me in my current medical state.

I had initially spent my first night and almost the entire next day on the emergency psych ward. They watch you 24/7. There are CCTV cameras pointed at your bed. Yet, I was treated better there than I was on the general ward. The nurses, every single one treated me like a person. They were empathetic to the way I had been violently brought to hospital.

They were as accommodating as they could be. They gave me time to come out of the brain fog that followed my dissociative episode. One nurse went above and beyond to make sure I would get a breakfast and lunch that I would ear.

When I asked to take a shower, they immediately emptied the room that was clearly used for storage so that I could feel a little less gross.

The doctor who visited psych emerge was also kind and empathetic. There is literally nothing to do in the emergency psych department. So she brought me books to read.

So my transfer to the general ward was a bit of a culture shock. I was wheeled up by a porter but then lead on foot to be shown the common room and lunchroom. The importance of knowing these locations is important on the psych ward, I almost never set foot in either.

On the psych ward it became apparent that my resting heart rate was dangerously high. This resulted in my being very dizzy. As a safety precaution I rarely left my room. The one time I did try to independently go to the lunchroom and get my breakfast I became horribly dizzy only to discover that most of my meal was dairy based and I’m lactose intolerant.

I suddenly had try and negotiate food accommodations along with physical accommodations that challenge the very way the psych ward runs.

By not getting my own meals or returning my own trays, I was not demonstrating “independence”. At some point the nurses just start doing sitting/standing blood pressure tests which indicate that my heart rate remains dangerously high. They couldn’t ask me to leave my room. This time when I wanted a shower I asked for a bath chair because I was no longer certain I could stand long enough for a shower without passing out. It took a long time to get that bath chair. I had to ask twice.

Despite my stay in the psych ward being objectively atypical, I was still being judged by the standards of “independence” used by the staff to determine emotional progress. Even though they objectively knew I could not participate in these daily tasks, I was still held to the same standards as anyone else on the ward.

I was in the psych ward for 8 days. Only the first 48 hours were mandatory. I beat my form 1 (the document that says you can be held against your will because you may pose a risk to yourselves or others) easily. Admittedly the attending psychiatrist never mentioned discharging me right away. By that point I had already had a chest X-ray had 5 vials of blood drawn. I was concerned about my heart, so as long as they focused on that I was fine to stay.

My weakness, largely made my stay uneventful. I had the odd spat with a nurse who thought she could run a power move on me but for the most part, I relaxed, napped and read.

My occasional forays out of my room only happened when my sister was visiting and I felt like I had a chaperone. She would return my food tray for me etc. One day I felt up for a walk, so went with my sister to sign myself out. This is where I learned that despite being a voluntary patient, I had no privileges. To add insult to injury, no one at any point had explained that I was under a privilege system at all.

My sister doesn’t like conflict so, she’s already scratching our names off the sign out sheet. I however, stared at that nurse and demanded to know how I could be subjected to a privilege system I had never been made aware of, particularly as a voluntary patient. Then I glared at her until she made a phone call.

The photo at the top of this post was taken during that brief break for freedom.

I was discharged without much fanfare not long after receiving an echo cardiogram there was no medical followup about my heart issues (which have calmed down somewhat since leaving the hospital) or for the dissociative episode I experienced. All I got was a paper with a lack of detail and the diagnosis of psychosis. I suspect the truth is more complicated than that. I’ve been describing it as a dissociative Fugue. I came to myself quickly enough in the hospital after people stop reacting to me with anger or violence.

This is how I was able to so compliant up to the point of inaccess. Yet my way of surviving independently did not match how the people running the psych ward viewed it.

It’s a good thing they didn’t make performing independence a criteria for my discharge. Or I might still be there. I’ll have to wait to receive my records to find out why I was really discharged and if the hospital learned anything useful about me at all.

How you can support my work

Until my life starts to get back to some semblance of normalcy, I hope you will support me in my goal of completing my dissertation in any way that you are able. Whether it be through emotional support or by financially investing in my academic success.

My dissertation is tentatively titled “We Still Hide Madwomen in the Attic”

It will be an autoethnographic (meaning I will be using myself as a research subject) study of how mad/disabled women have been and still are silenced and isolated both directly through things like abuse and involuntary committal to the cultural idea that mad women in attics are just a literary device for gothic novels.

In the immediate, I need to complete my comprehensive exams which necessitates a lot of reading. Some of the books are out of print and hard to find. I have created am amazon wishlist (it’s not exhaustive and will likely be added to). If you could support my work by purchasing one of the books on that list that cannot be had in kindle format, I would really appreciate it.

Kindle books read on an iPad are really the most accessible format for me but Amazon does not allow for the purchase of ebooks through wishlists. So I have set up an email solely for people who want to financially support my work. I would greatly appreciate gifts of amazon gift cards (I’ll even tell you which books you bought me)

The email is kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

I will not be answering queries about my research through this email. It is solely a way for people who want to support my work to be able to do so. (this is a safety boundary). If you want to talk to me, find me on Twitter.

My research and supporting myself will get past the reading phase and there will be field work in my future. If you would like to help me fund my PhD in the long term you can

support me on patreon

buy me a ko-fi

send me money via paypal

send an e money transfer to the email above (if you have scruples about third party sites)

I also have a generic disability wish list of things that would just improve my quality of life

Thank you for your ongoing support. and just an FYI I’m changing my name socially to Kimberley Jane Erin. You can call me Kim or Jane but I prefer Jane. I am however, not the least uncomfortable with Kim so don’t worry about messing up.

It’s time I really leaned into my identity as a scholar. I hope you’ll support me.

A Long Overdue Update

Image description: A blond white woman with cerebral palsy stands in a patch of tall grass in a garden outside the Humber River Hospital. She is smiling from her brief reprieve from the Psych ward.
Image description: A blond white woman with cerebral palsy stands in a patch of tall grass in a garden outside the Humber River Hospital. She is smiling from her brief reprieve from the Psych ward.

Hi Everyone,

It’s been a while and I’ll admit up front I might not be getting actively back into blogging for a while, though it is on my to do list (which is too long).

I’m just writing this to get you updated on why I disappeared and letting you know that going forward I need to focus on some issues in my life and really getting into the work of my PhD.

Last year, as a member of CUPE Local 3903 I participated in the longest post-secondary strike in Canadian history, something previously considered impossible for an English language university to accomplish. Quebec just has a better culture for getting angry when their educations are threatened.

The strike was long gruelling and full of emotional labour. The emotional labour of constant threats of vehicular death. The constant rhetoric from the university that cast me as an outsider despite my still being a student.

During this time I became estranged from my mother. This was an ultimately healthy decision but because of how long she had kept me isolated and emotionally dependent on her despite her abuse, it was hard. It is still hard but only in that not talking to mum tends to strain all the other family relationships.

The aftermath of the strike did not really calm things down, though I wasn’t threatened with bodily harm quite so much but I had difficulty getting myself regrounded in the academic environment.

I began dissociating and I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to pull myself out of this funk alone. So I went to the doctor and got diagnosed with anxiety, and PTSD (both conditions I am sure were not new just newly officially diagnosed).

I immediately began going to therapy but in my vulnerable emotional state, I chose my therapist very badly. She did help get me onto anti-anxiety meds and helped get me feeling slightly more grounded. Then she spent months isolating me from the few friends I see in person and isolating me more from my online presence, So isolating me from perhaps my strongest support network.

I had during the strike independently pulled back from blogging and some of my more inflammatory online activism. With a few exceptions. I stayed involved in the straw debate, though to a lesser degree than before and I admit I went unintentionally viral with #DoctorsAreDickheads

The stress of the attention was more than I could handle and I pulled away from Twitter even more. It took months for me to realize that my therapist was actually keeping me from moving forward with my life. The realization was uncomfortable and I spent some time trying to unpack it on Twitter

I had a lot of trouble processing that betrayal. I’m not sure I’ll ever know precisely what happened next because I began dissociating, this was quickly joined by a fugue state.

This means I didn’t even know who I was, what I was doing, or who I was communicating with. In my few lucid moments many online friends reached out in concern but because fugues cause amnesia, I assumed that I must have been hacked.

You see for the entire period of time I basically never left my bed. I knew I was unwell, I just didn’t realize that I was posting delirious and often hurtful things online. I’ve seen some of it and chosen to delete much of it.

I doubt I’ll ever get a full picture of what I was thinking or everything I said. I apparently called my brother about 20 times, I only remember two or three of the calls and I’m already mortified.

I understand completely, why people were concerned for my welfare. What I am still trying to come to grips with is that my sister decided to channel her concern over online posts that to my knowledge never threatened violence (there was a ton of sexual harassment and I could not be more sorry). The harm I caused during that fugue was emotional. Yet my sister decided that it was better to call the police than come check on me.

I was placed under what is known as a Form 2 which means the police are going to assume you are violent and you have no option for deescalation.

I made the mistake of trying to deescalate. I was lucid enough to know what cops and paramedics at my door meant but I was still unaware of my delirium induced online posts.

The fact that I was still unwell and prone to delusions, I remained I think surprisingly calm (by which I mean I only fought the police with rhetoric, I got loud) but I was still in a fugue state, I’m pretty sure at one point I thought I was my sister, at another I was convinced I was going to marry the star of the show I’d been watching in my more lucid moments.

I probably had at least 4 separate narratives going but I wasn’t violent.

Yet, I was still grabbed and shackled in the ambulance.

Dark bruise on pale skin from being grabbed while being involuntarily committed

That bruise is gone now but as it faded it revealed the thumb print of whoever it was who grabbed me to shackle me to the gurney.

I was shackled to that gurney for I don’t know how long. I lay there shackled long after I was removed from the ambulance. I was horribly uncomfortable and begged to be let out.

I did eventually convince security to let my left arm free because the shackle was forcing my shoulder into a painful and unnatural position because of my cerebral palsy.

This was my first clue that the psych ward is not prepared for physically disabled people.

I live tweeted much of my stay in the psych ward so you can check out my Twitter for more details on that.

I actually came out of the fugue pretty quickly upon getting to the hospital but I was on a 48 involuntary hold (known as a Form 1). I stayed for 8 days because my resting heart rate and blood pressure were disturbingly high.

I got very little in the way of psychiatric care. The attending physician seemed to be looking for the sort of person who is irrationally violent.

I was extremely compliant on the psych ward.

Well I was extremely compliant until something was inaccessible and then they had to deal with the full force of having me stay on as a voluntary patient just to figure out if something was wrong with my heart. I got cardiology tests on the psych ward that I don’t think the attending psychiatrist knew about in advance.

He seemed surprised that I was on a 24 hour holter heart monitor and was waiting for an echocardiogram. I think he was trying to discharge me.

I was ultimately discharged shortly after I received the echocardiogram. I have yet to hear back if any of those tests had any interesting results.

So I still don’t know if the dissociative fugue was caused by the mother of all panic attacks or if it was exacerbated by illness. Just like the exact details of everything I thought and did during the fugue, I will probably never know. I however, suspect that this latter ignorance is more likely to be blamed on how I was hospitalized and how my symptoms were initially interpreted. I didn’t get a blood test until I’d been there nearly 48 hours and was lucid all of the time.

Skipping ahead a bit (again see Twitter for more Psych ward details), I am now back home recuperating from my ordeals.

In the immediate I need to do two things complete my complaint against the therapist who tried and failed to derail my life (this is going to be very stressfull)

In order that my life not get further derailed, I need to get more actively focused on my PhD studies again. To that end my therapist from hell followed by my stint in the Psych Ward gave me a great idea for a dissertation topic and that is what I will be focusing my energy on.

Hopefully, if my life calms down (like after I’m done with the complaint against my former therapist) I will blog a little more regularly again.

Until then I hope you will support me in my goal of completing my dissertation in any way that you are able. Whether it be through emotional support or by financially investing in my academic success.

My dissertation is tentatively titled “We Still Hide Madwomen in the Attic”

It will be an autoethnographic (meaning I will be using myself as a research subject) study of how mad/disabled women have been and still are silenced and isolated both directly through things like abuse and involuntary committal to the cultural idea that mad women in attics are just a literary device for gothic novels.

In the immediate, I need to complete my comprehensive exams which necessitates a lot of reading. Some of the books are out of print and hard to find. I have created am amazon wishlist (it’s not exhaustive and will likely be added to). If you could support my work by purchasing one of the books on that list that cannot be had in kindle format, I would really appreciate it.

Kindle books read on an iPad are really the most accessible format for me but Amazon does not allow for the purchase of ebooks through wishlists. So I have set up an email solely for people who want to financially support my work. I would greatly appreciate gifts of amazon gift cards (I’ll even tell you which books you bought me)

The email is kimberleyjanephd@gmail.com

I will not be answering queries about my research through this email. It is solely a way for people who want to support my work to be able to do so. (this is a safety boundary). If you want to talk to me, find me on Twitter.

My research and supporting myself will get past the reading phase and there will be field work in my future. If you would like to help me fund my PhD in the long term you can

support me on patreon

buy me a ko-fi

send me money via paypal

send an e money transfer to the email above (if you have scruples about third party sites)

I also have a generic disability wish list of things that would just improve my quality of life

Thank you for your ongoing support. and just an FYI I’m changing my name socially to Kimberley Jane Erin. You can call me Kim or Jane but I prefer Jane. I am however, not the least uncomfortable with Kim so don’t worry about messing up.

It’s time I really leaned into my identity as a scholar. I hope you’ll support me.

Let’s Contextualize the Suspension of that University of Guelph Prof who Bullied a Disabled Student

cap-2029798_640

Image Description: A monochrome image of a graduation cap

Yesterday, a story came out about a University of Guelph professor who had openly mocked a disabled student during lecture. This resulted in the targeted student leaving the room along with his aide. Many of his classmates followed suit. The professor in question has been placed on leave and the incident is being applauded as a victory for justice.

While the actions of the professor were abhorrent and he deserves to have been suspended, there is a lot of context that this story is leaving out in favour of celebrating the nondisabled students who walked out in solidarity with their classmate.

I wrote a twitter thread on this yesterday but based on some of the responses I got from it, I think that a full blog post is necessary.

This is only a news story because of the solidarity of nondisabled students. I wish nondisabled people understood how much power they have to improve or limit the lives of disabled people.

The story itself treats the abused student as a prop. They are not named and are never interviewed. The entire narrative is framed around the recollections of nondisabled people.

The sentiments expressed are generally positive and supportive but the issue is also clearly framed as a one off. One bad professor. The students imply they will stand against any other injustice. But will you?

More importantly, do you? The thing that makes the Guelph story unique isn’t that it happened. The more shocking thing is that it happened in public. Disabled students experience discrimination from professors regularly. I am willing to bet that professors refuse to accommodate disabled students daily. It just happens behind closed doors and they tend to use less inflammatory language.

Some professors write op-eds and publish academic articles advocating exactly that. Where were the mass walkouts in solidarity then?

Solidarity in the Guelph incident is positive but it’s important to put it in context. The stakes for protesting students were low. The professor was a sub. Students were risking walking out on a single lecture not the entire course for the semester. They were not challenging the actual course director who has control over their grades.

Would they have walked out if it had been the course director?

Would they have been willing to potentially sacrifice an entire credit?

As responses to my twitter thread have shown me, the professor in question is not popular. I’ve received several responses from his former pupils that are all along the lines of,

“Oh, I had him as a prof and he’s a massive douche”

That reinforces the idea that people who see this story interpret it as an isolated incident perpetrated by someone widely considered detestable. There is no consideration of whether his behaviour fits into a system of discrimination against disabled people in academia.

It is more comfortable to see his behaviour as wholly aberrant instead of understanding that the only thing surprising about it is that he did it so publicly. There are many more faculty members slowly tearing down disabled students in the safety of their offices.

Where is the protest over that?

The Guelph incident is tragic not just for the abuse that one student suffered but because the way it has been framed in the media allows people to believe such incidents are rare and that they are inevitably met with swift and effective push back when they do.

 

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Guest Post: The Unwritten Dress Code For Service Dogs at Graduation

 

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Image Description: A golden retriever in a work harness wearing a graduation cap with a black and white tassel.

 

Graduation season is again upon us, which means students across the US and Canada are donning their graduation regalia and marching across the stage. It is also the time of year local news agencies around the country start reporting on the adorable service dogs that are also prancing along the stage with their handlers. If a local news agency is picking the story up, there’s a good chance the service dog was wearing a cap and gown as well.

With the current graduation style trend incorporating decorated hats, and other colorful accessories, it’s easy to brush this parallel trend under the umbrella of fashion and the euphoria of the day. However, there are differences between how abled-bodied students choose to express themselves, and how the handlers of these service dogs are treated.

People frequently anthropomorphize animals. Dogs do not seek personal gratification through earning honorary degrees, nor do they understand or care about public displays of adoration. Service dogs work because they enjoy it, because they get to hang out with their handlers all day, and because of perks like getting showered with love when they do a good job. Yet every year dogs across the country are given honorary degrees.

These degrees are handed out not for the sake of the student or their accompanying service animal, because it certainly does not reflect either the student’s academic prowess nor how the dog perceives affection. No, it is instead a phenomenal opportunity for universities to get showered with praise for being so welcoming to students with disabilities, and is free advertising. In effect, it is a publicity stunt intended to serve the needs of the higher education institution. Perhaps it also serves to get donations to the progressive school who supported their student with the service dog.

The scheme does little to showcase how accommodating schools are to their students with disabilities. No one is going to pat the university on the back and tell them how amazing they are for having their staff spend weeks before school is even in session sitting at a scanner working on making materials accessible for students. But you can bet someone is going to hand over a fistful of cash when they see an adorable dog on stage receiving an honorary degree.

With the amount of pressure being put on grads to put their service dogs miniature regalia, you would think that there was some kind of dress code we’re all unaware of. When I told staff that I was just going to put a few flowers and ribbon in the university colors on O’Hara’s harness, it was met with serious disappointment. Staff tried to convince me how adorable it would be to have her in a little outfit. Service dogs don’t exist to add an entertaining cute factor to university sponsored events—or any event. O’Hara’s role that night was to do what she does every day. To guide me safely around obstacles, and keep me safe. Given the extra distractions of a loud audience, unfamiliar environments, the stopping repeatedly, and other strange going-ons, O’Hara didn’t need to be worried about wearing a cap and gown when I needed her to worry about where the microphone cord was, and making sure I didn’t faceplant.

The graduation of service dog handlers from universities does not mean it’s open season for publicity stunts for those universities, or regalia companies, or anyone else. Service dogs are not an excuse to exploit them to increase the cute factor for entertainment, or for inspiration. Pressuring handlers into putting regalia on their dogs is not acceptable, and they don’t owe you the chance to see a charming dog all dressed up. In fact, the only thing handlers and their dogs owe to anyone, is respect for the other half of their service dog team. I happily chose to dress up O’Hara’s harness with ribbons and flowers. It was simple, understated, and did not disrupt her work. Nor did it play directly into hands of a publicity stunt. More importantly, it was an artistic expression of self, which was exactly what all the other students were doing with their own adornments. O’Hara did more than look pretty in regalia that day, she did her job with poise, and served me with all the dignity her training called for. That is something that cannot be represented in regalia.

 

Author bio:

Kit is a freelance writer and public speaker working toward the inclusion of people with disabilities in STEM fields. She currently runs Femme de Chem a source for science, disability, and geek news that is 100% accessible.

 

Choosing Not to Disclose a Diagnosis is Not Giving in to Shame

So in my last post, I talked about my friend Navi who successfully challenged the documentation requirements to acquire academic accommodations for Mental Health at York University. She won that fight and has been receiving some media interest as a result. In my last post I did two things. I clarified some of the common misconceptions I was noticing in commentary around the media stories. I also criticized some of the media handling around asking questions about accommodations that reinforce prejudice.

Unfortunately one of the side effects of disability self-advocacy is that it inevitably comes along with backlash. As I was preparing that last post, it had already started but mostly consisted of comment trolls and the ill conceived and likely unintentionally poor interview questions. No sooner had I published it however, I became aware of this opinion piece by Heather Mallick in the Toronto Star. It can best be described as utterly ignorant and hateful.

Some of the article is genuinely incomprehensible with lines like

I myself dislike “disability,” especially in reference to temporary states of young people away from home, but I won’t harp.

Up until the word disability, I can follow, I disagree but I understand the words everything after that is word vomit. Is she saying that students away from home will fake disability because we are needy whiny millennials? No, but seriously, I’m not sure. Someone please explain it to me.

She also fails to fully seem to understand that just because a diagnosis is no longer required, doesn’t mean that medical documentation is also now optional. It’s not, you still definitely need it. So this idea that stressed out dishonest students will be flooding university accommodation offices, says a lot more about the author’s lack of faith in the medical profession than it with this hypothetical horde of fakers waiting in the wings to scam the system (please see my previously linked post for reasons why accommodations don’t necessarily benefit people who don’t need them).

She also shows a complete lack of understanding of how disabilities and the needs associated with them manifest themselves. She says, specifically regarding Navi and her request for a quiet separate exam space,

This puzzles me. Exam rooms are silent. And what if her smaller room became claustrophobic? Hard to predict. With each year, the smaller room will become more crowded. Perhaps exams could be written outdoors in the quad. No, grass allergies. Really? Prove it. Don’t have to.

Just to again reiterate, people still need medical documentation in order to be accommodated. Mallick also seems unaware that the policy changes that she is criticizing only apply to psychiatric diagnoses. So someone seeking accommodation for a grass allergy would still have to identify it.

The bigger point here is however that just because someone has one symptom that requires them to write an exam separately would mean that they are also claustrophobic. An argument which makes as little sense as Mallick’s choice to cite the satrical website The Onion. Let’s just pause to let that sink in. She cited THE ONION!

The article she referenced was mocking the over sensitivity of young people. Making it clear that she believes that Navi is lying and her desire to keep her diagnosis private is a cover for those lies. Her real beef appears to be with imaginary whiny youths who are out to get benefits that they aren’t entitled to.

She however cloaks this in pseudo-activism, claiming that keeping diagnoses private is to fall back into supporting stigma and shame. In a weak attempt to support her argument that mandatory openness lowers stigma she references the existence of the Bell “Let’s Talk” Campaign. She just mentions it but fails to elaborate how it proves her point or is even applicable in this situation. Keep in mind that Bell is a media company and not a Mental Health Organization.

She also advocates for an openness about diagnosis that has never been required of students, arguing that students should disclose to their professors. Disclosure has only ever been required to Disability Services. Students are then given certified letters which contain no medical information to take to faculty. This is done precisely because there is an understanding that an ignorant professor might be prejudicial if they have preconceived ideas about a specific condition. Yet, Mallick says,

The legal requirement that a stigmatizing diagnosis be a secret from helpful universities smells of mould and asylums.

In fact, professors may make bad guesses about what ails a student — humans are like that — and that doesn’t help build an intellectual bridge.

Again I clarify. This policy change does not forbid anyone from disclosing. They are welcome to if they choose. It simply removes the requirement that they do. Yet Mallick expects students to submit to and cater to their professors ignorance. Something they have not been required to do before the shift.

Even though I know she doesn’t deserve it, I am now going to give Heather Mallick the benefit of the doubt and explain why having the choice not to disclose a diagnosis is so important.

  1. Despite the existence of campaigns like “Let’s Talk” stigma is still rampant and people should have the choice to minimize the likelihood that they will experience it.
  2. Psychiatric diagnoses often come with a laundry list of possible symptoms, which are not all applicable to every person given a particular label. Withholding a diagnosis forces disability services to deal with the individual, rather than slotting them into a box based on a textbook definition.
  3. Yes even trained professionals who work with disabled people are not immune to stereotyping. Taking the focus away from the diagnosis can help negate that. Remember a medical professional has already signed off on the accommodations. They are not and should not be subject to secondary approval just because a counselor knows a thing or two about a certain condition. People are more complex than a DSM list of symptoms.
  4. Some people don’t like the association with labels. This should not be mistaken as evidence of shame or denial of difference but rather a rejection of the medicalized way they are viewed. They may share or “Talk” a Bell would have them do about their experiences in a less pathologized way.
  5. It’s about choice and respect. People should have control over their medical information. As Navi said in her interview with Matt Galloway. She just wants the same treatment in university that she would get in the workplace where again diagnosis disclosure is not required.

I’m sure there are many more reasons to respect privacy and I invite people to share them in the comments.

Ultimately, the determination of what lowers stigma and betters the lives of disabled people should not come from newspaper columnists but from the people who have affected by that stigma.