Everyday Trials

According to my friends, I am a twenty-six-year-old male who is funny, charming, and intelligent. Apart from these traits, I do have one that makes me stand out from the crowd. I have a disability. It is known as cerebral palsy. This is not a life-threatening disability, but it does limit my movements and other activities in my life. I am currently going for a master’s degree in education and hold two bachelor’s degrees, one in history and one in theater. By many people’s standards, I would be considered well on my way. However, there are still obstacles I must overcome.

As I’ve stated before, in 1990, a piece of legislation was introduced known as the Americans with Disabilities Act. This Act attempted to eliminate as many barriers to inclusion in society for people with disabilities as possible. It specifically focused on five areas, including making it easier for people to access public education, public buildings, and improving communication opportunities. Additionally, it aimed to enhance access to the job market for people with disabilities, and included the broad-sweeping term “miscellaneous provisions” ¹. Because of this Act, life for persons with disabilities has improved tremendously. However, federal legislation cannot influence one aspect of life, that of social interaction and acceptance.

From an early age, a child is interested. Babies explore their environment, testing and prodding the world they have been born into. Humans are not born with any preconceived notions about one another; they develop them based on the environment and society in which they are raised. In my twenty-six years in this great country, I have never been judged by a five-year-old. It is more often their parents who do the judging. The five-year-old is merely curious when he or she may ask their parents, “Mommy or Daddy, why is that person in a wheelchair? What is wrong with them?” These questions do not bother me. The parents' response baffles me. Several months ago, I was at a local mall when the same situation occurred, and I distinctly could hear a parent react to the same question with the following: “Honey, be quiet. Don’t ask that. That’s rude.” Is it rude? Or, as my friend said to me and as I truly believe, have we as a society become so comfortable walking on eggshells that we are afraid to ask questions because we might offend someone?

In my head, I would much prefer the parent’s response to the child’s question to have gone as follows: “I don’t know, why don’t you go ask him?” The ability to question is what makes us human. It is how we learn. However, we are taught from a young age not to ask, and by the time we become young people and adults, bias and fear of difference have become ingrained in us. This thought is evident on my college campus.

I currently attend a school in the Northwestern part of Pennsylvania, and it is a reasonably good school. But it is here where the idea that society has become so politically correct that it would rather be ignorant than knowledgeable has been reinforced. Three key areas disturb me. The first of which can occur when I am merely rolling around on campus with friends. It’s gotten to the point where we make a game out of counting how many people stare at us. Let me explain first by saying that I typically hang around with females. Not due to any other reason, except I tend to get along with them better. Most of my friends are “friends.” There are only two or three that I would like to date, but somehow everyone who sees me with any of my friends either looks at us like, “Aww, I feel so bad for that young man and what an incredible person that girl is for helping him.” Or “I wonder, are they dating?” Forgive me for being so blunt. It got so wrong when my friend and I counted thirty people staring at us in two hours. Maybe I missed the memo, and maybe staring is the new en-vogue thing, but I don’t recall staring at every other person I roll by as if they were something I have seen before.  

The second thing that bothers me has to do with communicating with people daily. Most of the people I interact with can tell that I'm reasonably intelligent within the first few minutes of our conversation. I do not go around quoting the dictionary, but I do have a large vocabulary. I say most can tell that I'm reasonably intelligent. The people who make me want to pull my hair out are those people who make me feel as if I am mentally challenged just because I am in a chair. My favorite example of this occurs nearly every time I go out to a restaurant. Let me set the scene: I'm sitting with a group of friends or family, chatting and deciding what to order, when the waiter or waitress comes by to take everyone's order. They will go around the table, and when it is my turn, they tend to look at the person next to me for my order instead of me. If that does not happen, they tend to raise their voice and say the following, “Well, what would you like, dear” (in a booming voice). I am not deaf. I have terrible vision and, by my admission, am a really bad driver, running into more objects than I care to admit. However, not being able to hear is not a flaw of mine. Indeed, some say that I hear way too well. When someone speaks to me like I am completely deaf, I am often tempted to respond with a snotty, unsuspected comment. I’ve only done this once or twice, but let’s say it catches them off guard. Every time one of these exchanges occurs, I am baffled and increasingly frustrated with society. Just because someone has a physical disability does not mean they are deaf and mentally deficient. The above two examples are annoying and frustrating when you are disabled; however, they pale compared to my third pet peeve.

I am sure others can relate to me when I say that family and love are human desires regardless of physical appearance or ability. I, as a disabled individual, am no different. I am twenty-six, academically and intellectually successful, and I make people laugh. I also have a decent personality. The one thing I don’t have is someone to look past my disability and love me for me. Some who may read this might say not everyone in their twenties finds someone, and with that, I fully agree; however, it is magnified tenfold when you are in a wheelchair or have a disability. Not only does it seem one gets snubbed on the relationship front, but also, many of the most common social interactions, the able-bodied community, from my perspective, does not know how to or feel comfortable with integrating the disabled community. A key example is when I ask someone to do something. They will often give me a cursory "we definitely should," but then inevitably, they will blow me off for some reason or another. Don’t get me wrong. I understand that this is a problem related to my generation and the interaction between the able-bodied community and disabled individuals. But I am sure if you ask other individuals with disabilities, you will find that it tends to happen a great deal more frequently to individuals with disabilities than their able-bodied counterparts.

In the same vein, whenever an individual catches my eye on a romantic level, I am often rejected, and not for typical reasons. The most common sense I get is, “you’re a great guy, but I can’t date you because you’re in a wheelchair.” Not only is that reason baffling to me, but it is also infuriating. I can’t tell you how many times I played an emotional therapist or boyfriend in my life. Still, as soon as I want to actually pursue something on a romantic level, they finally realize, “Oh, wait for a second, he’s in a chair.”

All my rantings may have come off as complaining. However, I hope they haven’t because my purpose in writing this article is to bring to light an issue that many people are aware of but choose to ignore or make light of. Society in the twenty-first century is no different from what it was in earlier times. Yes, we are now not dealing with bus boycotts or million man marchers, but it is clear that we are still fighting a silent battle. The disabled community and people who are outside your typical WASP America, in general, are fighting a war against difference. The disabled community’s voice was heard loud and clear in 1990, but it is about time our voice was heard once again.  

 

Footnotes: 

1. http://www.bu.edu/cpr/reasaccom/whatlaws-adaact.html