"Extraordinary"

Interestingly enough, this week's Grammer Girl podcast was all about how to refer to people with disabilities in your writing.

This is something I have been thinking about a lot more lately. It's funny, being an able-bodied, white, middle-class, male, I have never really had to grapple with labels the way some have.

Take, for instance, the African-American community. Now, I realize I am stepping into a minefield here so bear with me. Laying aside the whole issue of why a man identical to me in every respect with the exception of the pigment of his skin needs an identifying label when I do not . . . In my lifetime, the acceptable terms have shifted and changed with the evolution of our culture.

What was acceptable when I was in grade school was different than what was acceptable when I was in high school etc. Add to it that those within the African-American community have terms for each other that no one but them is allowed to use and it can all get very confusing . . .

I think most people in our society today just want to get through their day without offending anyone on these grounds and are happy to use whatever term is preferred if someone would just tell them what that term is . . .

I will never forget an incident that happened to me in High School . . . I was working at the local Taco Bell and my shift manager, Regina, (and here I will use the terms she used for herself) was a "big black woman" (and believe me, she leaned hard on that word "black"). She was hilarious and fun to work with and she talked-the-talk and walked-the-walk so-to-speak when it came to her understanding of her culture. She would routinely yell from the back of the store, "Matt! You best walk yo skinny white-*** back here and get on dem dishes!" And we would all laugh because we were friends. We all knew we respected each other and it was just harmless (if a little un-PC) banter.

One evening an African-American couple came in (no kidding - he was dressed like Huggie-bear from Starsky and Hutch and she looked the part as well) and the man started causing a ruckus. Regina would have none of it. She came storming to the front of the store like a freight train and before anyone knew it arms were waving, epithets were flying and the whole place was brimming with Regina's big "black" attitude. The man threatened to hop over the counter and Regina said she wished he would so she could "whoop yo black . . . ." and on it went - you get the picture.

It was terrifying, exciting and amusing all at the same time. Like being caught up in an African-American hurricane. Being the smallest (and whitest) person present . . . I actually feared for my safety at one point . . . I just had no comprehension of the exchange going on in front of my eyes . . .

Regina eventually threw the couple out and they went on their way. I stood there in utter disbelief. I had never seen anything like it. Regina turned to me and pointed one of her long bejeweled finger nails at me. "Matt, let's get one thing straight. Dayz 'black people' and dayz 'ni*****'. Dat man was a 'ni****'". And with that she turned on her heels and headed for the back.

I just shook my head and chuckled to myself in amazement.

But then Regina thought of something, doubled back and fixed me with serious glare, "But don't you ever call someone dat . . ." And off she went . . .

But I digress . . .

I am not big on the terms "Handicapped" or "Disabled" which I think is why the handicapped parking placard effects me so much. But at the same time, I don't really have a term that I "like". I think it is because if I were in a wheelchair, I wouldn't want to be primarily known for my inability to walk. I would want to be known for who I am as a person in terms of talents and personality and intelligence (or lack thereof).

I think I would want to be described in terms of my person hood just like anyone else. If the subject ever came up, a simple "He uses a wheelchair" would be sufficient.

BTW . . . I know of one set of wheelchair users that actually refer to themselves as "Gimps".

I guess maybe the important thing is not the terms used per-se but the way in which they are used. I would be much more willing to accept the term "disabled" if it was clear that the person using the term had respect for me as a person as opposed to someone who used the word in a pitying way.

I suppose that is why good friends can banter around racially-charged labels and call each other "gimps" and laugh about it while a stranger using the same terms would not be welcomed. The understanding of trust and respect amongst friends earns you a little latitude.

Of course, when it comes to race or disabilities, there is a small handful of words that are clearly off the table and I think any reasonable person can figure those out - as for the rest of the terms? I fall back to my belief that we are all just trying to get through the day without insulting anyone. Any term you use is going to be offensive to a disabled person if the wording is used in a way that is pitying or belittling. Show some kindness, some clear respect, show that you are making an effort to be sensitive and any reasonable person should cut you some slack . . .

Mark Smith over at Powerchair Diaries has a great take on dealing with potentially offensive situations that is worth a read.

Teaser:

In my own life, I, of course, often encounter ignorance toward my disability. Although others who act with ignorance toward me typically don’t bother me at all, it is interesting that my family and friends around me get far more offended by others than I’d ever expect. My sister is the worst, totally hot-headed when she thinks that others are acting with ignorance toward my disability. I remember being in a restaurant with my sister, and every time that the waitress tended to us, the waitress yelled to me as if I were deaf. As dinner went on, my sister became more and more angry. “What’s her problem, talking to you like you’re deaf?” my sister asked me, rhetorically.

Finally, the waitress came back, and yelled at me very loudly, “Would you like desert?”

“You don’t need to yell – he’s not deaf!” my sister snapped back.

The waitress looked startled, her body tightening, looking toward me with immediate concern.

I put my hand on the waitress’ elbow, and said calmly, “Miss, you can talk to me as loudly as you like. Any woman as cute as you, offering me desert, is marriage material in book.”

The waitress put her arm around me, and said quietly, “Honey, I’ll get you whatever desert you wish – it’s on the house.”

Truly, if my sister hadn’t raised the issue, it would have been equally fine by me if the waitress talked loudly to me all night. My goal was to have a nice dinner, not to try to educate and change a stranger. And, this is where many with disabilities get stuck in life: They feel the need to correct and educate every stranger who acts with ignorance toward disability – at the grocery store, at the dinner party, at the bank, and on and on – and end up doing little more than derailing their own pursuits, burying themselves in unnecessarily negative situations.

One last word - as I have mentioned before, when Holly and I were checking out daycare for Annabelle, we toured a special needs facility and they used the terms "typical" instead of "normal" and "extraordinary" instead of "disabled".

"Extraordinary" . . . . I like it . . .