Disability is an interesting subject when one gets truly down to it. What is considered a disability and what is not also varies. Mental disabilities, physical disabilities, these are both types, but what about when there is a confluence of two of three types all at once?
I call that, when I am referring to my own situation, being trans.
Image of a normal body from Adult Swim cartoon, Rick and Morty.
“Anything with less than 8 limbs is considered disabled here”
-Rick Sanchez
(Rick and Morty).
This quote highlights that being called ‘Disabled’ might be a surprisingly malleable concept.
A few class periods we talked about disability in the media and one person mentioned the show Switched at Birth. That show is actually one of my favorite television series. Although I am a cinematic arts major, I never really have time to keep up with shows or stay updated with the latest reality shows. Most of what I watch is game shows and Netflix binges. When I found Switched at Birth I was pleasantly surprised in the way the creators incorporated disabilities into the show with not only the main characters but with the supporting characters as well. Continue reading
Long way to Happy
I know this is the title to one of my favorite sings from Pink!’s album “I’m Not Dead” but it poses the question; just how long really? Until happiness?
I have been on antidepressants and anxiety medication for the past six years, after off and on therapy for 3 years before. Now I am not trying to write a sob story here. I am a strong and independent women. I am outgoing and have a bubbly personality, which is what confuses people I think- about these illnesses. Depression does not mean you are always in a bad mood
As the years have gone on, I began to wonder how long I will have to be on prescription medication. How long until my brain and body is able to sustain control on its own? How long until happy?
This is my disability, for I can adamantly see a difference in my mood from when I skip or miss a dosage. The difference is a very uncomfortable feeling that just reminds me that I am strong enough to cope without them…Yet!
Are these medications helping me or disabling me more?
Our last class discussion really had me thinking about how un-accessible schools really are. Not only in physical lay out but also in policies and attitudes and I wanted to talk about it a little more. For students with mental disabilities there’s the issue of “proving” that you have an issue that could affect you in class, going to the doctor’s, reporting it with the school where it is then on file, then outing yourself to your professors which can be very stressful for someone. Also once you talk with a professor it is a guessing game on whether they will be accommodating or act like you are taking away from others. For those with physical disabilities our campus is not designed for easy access while getting around, our desks are small and uncomfortable and overall there is just so many obstacles to overcome.
Class also made me think about things we don’t often attribute to this issue. Bigger individuals, whether it be height or weight, have a hard time fitting into the desks and yet it is not thought of as an issue. The same goes for pregnant women who are not given appropriate accommodations, they face a variety of issues such as discomfort/ pain, fatigue, doctor’s appointments, sickness etc. and teachers often don’t think of them as needing any help.
The school as a whole is often set up to work best for someone who can afford tuition, is young, able bodied, can live on campus, doesn’t have to work, and takes the classes their adviser tells them to. But what about the people who don’t fit into this. I’m young and luckily I’ve gotten through college without much trouble but thinking about it critically I can find times where I was seen as a nuisance because I didn’t fit into the appropriate mode. I am on scholarship so I have to take a certain amount of credits and get a certain GPA, also I take more than the needed amount of credits because my scholarship only lasts until the end of this year. I also have to work in order to get through college and I’ve been told many times I should quit my job, or I need to just stay in school longer and take more classes even though that’s not a possibility for me. Commuting also opens up problems that students face. There’s only a small number of students who fit into the accepted form and yet nothing is being done to change how we deal with all of the others.
I don’t know if we have one already but if not I think we should have a group or panel that discusses these topics and try to make change.
Our class discussion from the other day has me thinking. How do we talk about the US’s responsibility in producing disabilities through wars abroad (both in our own veterans and in residents of the countries that serve as the battlegrounds) without implying that disabled people are undesirable or useless?
So today we’re going to talk about my fun times with mental illness, since it’s the reason this blog post is late. Yay.
I didn’t plan on getting too personal for this blog; my list of topic ideas is mostly cultural critique. I’m sure I’ll come back to that list for later posts and even save some of them to put up on my own blog(s) eventually. Right now I need to process some meta before I can get back to doing the thing.
I used to be a Glee fan in high school, though not to the same extent as most Glee fans were or are. I can’t even remember what the first two seasons were about, except that I cringed much less frequently than I do at the show now. My memories are very hazy, but when I think of Becky Jackson, the cheerleader with Down’s Syndrome, I remember liking her character. I remember thinking she was funny, intelligent, but a little bit neglected by the writers. The Becky I see in episodes now is such a drastic change from the character I remember. I try to pretend that it’s because Becky gained some confidence in her few years in high school and that’s why she’s so self-assured, but something about her character now really rubs me the wrong way.
I haven’t connected to any other class’s readings as I have connected with Eli Clare’s Exile & Pride. I’m trying to figure out why, and I still don’t rightly know, but I needed to share.
It seems obvious to say, “Well, I like the subject matter,” but really. I do. And it is all very different but so intrinsically connected, that I feel bad that I ever doubted the meshing of these worlds into one book. The environment, queerness, and disability (to narrow it down to a main triad) are all sides of the same coin. The environment–the one he have created and the one that has always been–often dictates disability. 
Disability provokes a queer understanding of identity. Being queer in different environments–rural and urban–is like being a polar bear or a house cat, a bird or a lost lizard in a sewer. The criticism that Clare invokes when talking about these topics is also critical of race and ethnicity and of privilege and gender. Who was the first to claim land as an inexhaustible resource? Who dictates the gender and sexual norms? Who creates the urban space that perpetuates disability? Clare touches on all of these linked together identities and sites, and it feels so right. I learned so much from Clare’s writing, but I also picked up his sense of criticism; that calm, assertive, compassionate voice that questions why and kicks out with fervor. Clare’s criticism is beatifically formed and so god damn smart, but it’s not the only thing that keeps me in the book.
Six weeks after meniscus repair surgery, I am currently re-learning how to walk. Actually, I can already walk, but with a limp – I’m re-learning how to walk “properly.” That is, like a princess, like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Several times a week, in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror either at my physical therapists’ office or at home, I slowly take steps, deliberately bending and straightening my legs in a precise, exaggerated motion. According to my doctor and physical therapists, I have to re-learn how to hold my leg perfectly, 180 degrees-straight within a few weeks or else I’ll be stuck with an essentially permanent limp. Truth be told, the prospect of a lifelong limp is frightening enough to scare me into doing my draining physical therapy exercises, which I had otherwise been avoiding. Suddenly, I feel strong motivation to get fully invested in my exercises and “get better.”
Unruly Bodies 