How do you respond when someone tells you they have a disability?

How do you respond when someone tells you they have a disability?

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How do you respond when someone tells you they have a disability?

Why are people always apologizing for having a disability? There is no need for one.

Ever tell someone you have a disability? Ever tell someone you’re disabled, and they immediately offer an apology?

For many of us, this happens quite often when we disclose we have a disability. Maybe there’s this accompanying puppy-dog pity look of concern that stops short of a pat on the head, and a Paypal offer to your, um … charity case-looking self.

Insert tight shot of mouth uttering the slow-mo, deep-voiced utterance of whatever the disabling condition is. *needle scratch* Like dance floor cleared from the fusillade of sulfur-smelling farts you let off or something.

WhenΒ conversationsΒ that were surfing levity turn undertow serious. A pearl-clutching concern that never, quite, pans out. Or maybe the reaction is akin to throwback rapper, Positive K’s response of β€œYou gotta what? How long you had that problem?”

This puppy-dog pity look of concern and accompanying questions is when you know a person has an β€œinfirmed,” but not *informed,* idea of what it means to be disabled.

Where the person lets you know right away all about their negative worldview of disability and how β€œawful” and β€œlimiting” it must be. This is also right about the time when they tend to correct your self-description. They β€œdon’t see” your disability, double and triple that when other identities that don’t mirror their own get roped into the conversation.



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By the end of the chat they may as well be talking to a chalk outline because, ahem, you don’t really exist if they keep erasing and/or β€œoverlooking” parts of who you are. They might even admit in hushed tones that perhaps a friend’s cousin, elderly neighbor who baked their favorite cakes, frat brother, father’s 3rd wife’s housekeeper, half-sister’s science teacher, etc has a disability so they β€œknow,” what it is there, you’re β€œsuffering” from.

You might be even be construed in their confusion as β€œnot like” those other bitter cripples who whine and complain, as they ply that saccharin-sweet lie of β€œthe only disability in life is a bad attitude.” And since you do rather well for yourself, it must not be β€œthat bad.” Thanks, I think.

I am not apologizing for my disability

Maybe, like me, your mind begins to wander as your eyes internally roll, and antennae go up searching for an easy segue into something else. But always having to be the teacher, and less often the student enjoying the scenery is so tiring. And maybe, more often than not, you run with the tired routine, half-chuckle, and count to yourself how long the exchange will last. You probably forge ahead and tell the back-handed complimenter that disability is, in fact, an identity-marker beyond medical diagnosis and not an indictment. That it incorporates pride, yes pride, culture, political movement, and history.

You might expound further, telling them that many of us are fond of exercising creative control in telling our own damn stories from our lived experiences. We need more depictions beyond sadness and supercrip; we need to be shown in nuanced and meaningful ways across the media landscape to get absorbed into the collective consciousness.

If you’re feeling especially energetic, leap into letting them know that β€œDIS” prefix is not only β€œnot” and β€œun” but has a Latin and Greek derivative meaning β€œduo” and β€œtwo” hence *another* way of doing and being in the world.

If you’ve gotten this far with them, by now, you might be cold/hot/hungry/thirsty/need to pee/pick up little Chris from daycare or put more quarters in the parking meter. Maybe you want to get on with your day and show up in the universe sans apology. No matter what, you might want to hold on to your sense of humor. You’ll be needing it again soon, quite sure.

β€œHow do you respond when someone tells you they have a disability?” is republished with the kind permission of Heather Watkins from her blog;Β Slow Walkers See More

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Article by
Heather Watkins

Heather Watkins is a disability advocate, mother, graduate of Emerson College with a degree in Mass Communications and a resident of Boston, Massachusetts.

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Feeling soooo sorry to hear that I'm disabled? Keep that to yourself

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