otherness

No Sex Please: We’re Disabled

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When I was about fifteen or so, I was scrolling through some disability-related books, not paying much attention to most of them. I became very alert, however, when I stumbled across a book (whose title escapes me) about society’s puritanical de-sexualization of wheelchair users. The book also delved into the experiences of other physically disabled populations, exploring the myth that we are not and do not want to be sexual creatures. This was a new idea to me, or so I thought. But, as I continued to read, I realized it wasn’t new at all.

I cast my mind back to a family trip to Mexico when I was about thirteen. This is well past the age when girls generally become convinced that kissing someone would be more fun than icky, and I was experiencing a tame awakening of my own around that time. As my sister and I walked down the sidewalks, with our elaborately braided hair and colourful bathing suits, the eyes of nearly everyone slid over me completely, or opened wide in fascination as they noticed the long white cane—that conspicuous symbol of otherness. These wide-eyed stares came from all genders, and I remember several people running back the way they’d come just so they could get a better look! (My sister and I joked that people should forget about taking pictures with monkeys and take pictures with me, for a fee, naturally.) If you’ve got it … flaunt it, I guess?

Now, if I was as stunning as my sister, it may have made a difference in the way people looked at me, but I’m not convinced of that. People tend not to actually see visibly disabled people, unless they’re gawking, that is. Beyond making us feel like monkeys ourselves, it can also seriously stunt our love lives.

I’ve talked about feeling like I wasn’t a real girl, and how I’m only just discovering that I’m satisfactory the way I am. That does not mean, though, that the rest of society has caught up with me. All throughout grade school, only other blind people showed any interest in me at all, and they could only communicate with me via the internet or telephone. (Most of them were as desperately lonely as I was, so I didn’t put much stock in their judgement.) I’m sure many sighted people didn’t flirt or approach me at all because they simply weren’t interested; that’s not a big deal. You can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. I am quite sure, however, that many boys I grew up with simply didn’t consider me based on my broken eyes, even if they did so unconsciously. There were girls, and then there was Meagan: normal enough to be friends with, but too alien to date.

Once I started talking to other disabled people about this, I discovered that they, too, were often rejected outright because of their disabilities, with people only realizing how attractive disabled people can be once they could get past their discomfort (assuming they ever did). If I put my cane out of sight and manage not to bump into walls, I don’t look blind, and I’m told that people actually look at me differently. Suddenly, I’m a human–a young woman who is potentially attractive to at least one soul out there somewhere. As soon as that cane comes out, though, I’m reduced to an asexual, undesirable creature who is off limits to everyone, romantically speaking anyway.

The worst bit is that some people apparently believe we want it this way! They believe that we wouldn’t want to become romantically involved, or that we don’t like or can’t enjoy sex. I can understand the confusion when it comes to severe cases of paralysis, though people need to do their research and be more open-minded even then, but it baffles me that someone whose body is in fine working order would still be de-sexualized. Even those whose bodies aren’t up to statistical standards of normality should not be ruled out; you’ll just have to get creative. Aside from all this, a disability should never rule someone out as a potential romantic partner right off the bat, based solely on the idea that they’re not datable. Judge them by their personalities, general physical traits, outlooks on life, and all the other attributes you’d evaluate in any able-bodied mate. Preferences are fine, but ignorance is not. We’re not children, and we’re definitely not puritans by design.

Next time you see a pretty girl in a wheelchair, go talk to her. Next time you meet an attractive blind guy, go have a chat. Next time you encounter someone with a disability who appeals to you, assume they’re a viable option until you discover otherwise. Finally, never, ever write them off as disinterested by default. How can you know until you try?

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10 Ways To Be a Good blind Person, Part II

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As I mentioned last week, the “rules” governing the conduct of blind people are a tangled mass of contrary ideas, making it impossible to get it right. I’ve essentially given up trying, but I still feel it important to illustrate the end of the spectrum I did not cover last week. It is the end I like to call “dependence, abnormality, and extreme expression”. While last week’s rules focused on blending in, emulating the sighted, and feeling subpar, this side of the spectrum focuses on playing up the blindness to levels I consider unhealthy and absurd. While this set of rules is likely observed by far less people than last week’s set, they are doubly significant because they are, if possible, even more damaging than the others. It’s time to call these out for the ridiculous, self-defeating falsehoods that they are.

 

 

  1. A good blind person understands that disability automatically and permanently bars one from competing in this sighted world in any meaningful way. Any attempts to be competitive should be restricted to the Blind Community, for it is only there that one can hope to stand out in a way that matters. If sighted people try to draw a blind person into the wider world, they should be strongly discouraged.
  2. Blindness is an inextricable part of one’s identity, and should be treated as such. Those wishing to suppress their true selves by avoiding blindisms (EG: rocking, head bobbing, hand flapping etc.) are guilty of trying to fit a hopelessly square peg into a round hole. Blindness is all of what we are, and striving to seem normal is both futile and disloyal to oneself and the Community.
  3. A good blind person acknowledges that disability invariably breeds dependence on others. Asking for help—even when one could help oneself—is inadvisable. Because we are so disadvantaged, we should accept that our lives were meant to be made easier by are more capable sighted counterparts. Blind people who devote themselves to becoming more independent than is natural are merely in denial, and will eventually realize that disabled means dependent, no matter who you are. After all: what kind of logic would permit a person to do something for themselves, often with undue hardship, when it can be done for them?
  4. A good blind person will immerse him or herself fully and completely into the Blind Community, especially where blindness-related technology, education, social networking, and other such pursuits are concerned. Championing causes aligned with greater independence, especially in the work force, are unnecessary. There is no point in wasting one’s energy trying to make this world easier for us to live in. It is much wiser to accept the altered (and cloistered) life that blindness affords us.
  5. A good blind person blossoms when surrounded by the unique solidarity, comfort, and support only fellow blind people can offer. Trying to fit in with sighted friends, coworkers, (assuming one bothers to work), and love interests is a disaster waiting to happen. We only fit in with those who are like us, and the sighted should only be interacted with when absolutely necessary. Only with fellow blind people can we truly be ourselves, and being true to what one is is the golden rule. Blind people professing to be at ease with sighted people will be dismissed as arrogant; it is likely that such people have delusions of grandeur in any case.
  6. A good blind person will live a life that adequately displays his or her self-love and self-acceptance. It is perfectly acceptable, therefore, to live off government assistance, avoid working at all costs (no one would hire us anyway), and spend the bulk of one’s time browsing social networks for the blind or associating with blind friends. Longing for a normal life is silly and unproductive; one should instead enjoy what the disabled world has to offer. So go ahead: name your cane; write long and detailed social networking posts about your guide dog (preferably from the dog’s point of view); put “blind” into your every username or alias; wear your mismatched, faded clothing with pride, and don’t be afraid to spin in a circle with your arms in the air; don’t let anyone, sighted or blind, advise you on what looks “normal”, even if your observers’ opinions might matter. Of course, one should be prepared to demonstrate the proper level of indignation should people marginalize a blind person when they behave this way. There is a certain glory in abnormality; learn to embrace it.
  7. Following the above, a good blind person is always totally content with is or her lot. Anyone lamenting the fact that they cannot see for any reason (even for matters of practicality) can only be unable or unwilling to accept his or her true identity. If one seeks a cure, one is turning away from the Community that would otherwise have nurtured and protected them from all outside forces. Being blind is wonderful in its way, and if one is not specifically proud of themselves in the concept of one’s blindness, serious issues will arise. Persistently indulging in such thoughts will result in an outright betrayal of oneself and of one’s Community.
  8. A good blind person should treat the sighted population as the strangers that they are. They are not like us, no matter how much we may want them to be. They are even inferior in some ways—with their groping about in the dark, their constant reliance upon their fallible vision, and their insistence upon worrying about silly things like physical appearance and blending into the landscape. It is perfectly acceptable to mock them with epithets like “sightie” or “sightling”. Sighing over their peculiarities and failings is encouraged. While they are convenient to have around, they are not our peers. Do not ever think otherwise.
  9. A blind person must accept that true competence is beyond them. One does not have to cook, clean, or keep house for oneself. One is not under any obligation to work, or play a productive role in the wider society. All that matters is that one is an active and useful member of the Blind community. Escaping into the sighted world and trying to carve out an existence there is a most grievous offense.
  10. A good blind person remembers that we live in a sighted world, but that there is a separate Community to which we all belong. All that is outside this Community is frightening, hostile, and cold. We will never find happiness or success there. Because we have been severely disadvantaged and are destined to lead diminished lives, we must remember that society owes us the luxury of getting more out of life than we put into it. Even if we mostly dismiss the sighted world at large, we should still recall that accessibility is our right, inclusion our privilege, and admiration our due. Disability sets us apart, and that we must respect; we are not like them, and they are not like us.