The only thing that bothers me about what I’m called is the total lack of anything remotely accurate in the terminology. I’m not an activist, and I don’t go in for militant activities, but I want to saay that some thought needs to be put into the words that describe the misabled.
Look, I get the annoyance with the term handicapped, but some carry it too far. I’m told it derives from times-gone-by in Great Britain. The person with physical limitations would sit in a public place, with his cap in his hand, asking financial assistance of passers-by. I’m told we don’t like that now because it fosters a certain level of pity. This is not my problem with the term.
The problem I see is the natural protraction of the word handicapped into handicapped parking, handicapped rest rooms, and various other terms. Though easily understood, something in my literal mind pictures a handicapped parking space as maybe having only one line or dangerous ground cover that potentially damages tires, thus rendering it handicapped. The same goes for a handicapped rest room with even more embarrassment potential.
Once again, I’m told (who starts these things that people get “told”?) that invalid is from the French and simply means that which is implied by the term: A lack of validity. I may have my moments that have caused the rest of the human race to not want me used as an example, but occasionally I consider myself quite valid. There’s this little trick I do with an earlobe and a few foot-massaging techniques that have elicited very valid responses.
Some have sought to soften the affect of unsavory terms by abstraction. We’ve seen this done by quasi-socialist liberals teaching undergraduate level classes with titles like Her-story. These same would-be wordsmiths invented handi-capable. This might defer unnecessary guilt, but it’s downright silly. Handi-capable sounds like something spouted by rosy-cheeked cherubs on the Good Ship Lollipop.
The term that puts an edge on my teeth to rival an overdose of citric acid is physically challenged. This is perfect when associated with athletes who have physical disabilities because their handicap imposes an extra challenge. To the average person, physical challenge describes a track meet. To the misabled person, pushing a wheelchair or communicating in sign language is bridging a gap, and the gap itself is simply a pain in the arse.
I don’t need to say much about the word disabled because my problem with it should be clear. Don’t try to clean it up by saying differently-abled; you already know my position on handi-capable. My ability has not been necessarily canceled. Where my limitations say no, I must discover a way to say yes. It’s all a matter of rerouting focus.
There are problems with any of the nom de jour used to describe the misabled. I’m obviously not in camp with any of them. Those who consider themselves my friends most often call me Cripple, but that leaves a bad taste in the mouth of the uninitiated ear (How was that for strangely overlapping metaphors?). For some time we shortened it to the familiar Crip, but one of my inner-city students told me that could get me killed in some places.
I guess, when all is said and done, I’m left with my name.
1 comment:
I have come to the considered conclusion that we are all [i]miscreants[/i] in the human sphere of experience and expectations. [i]Ill-behaved[/i] and uninformed. We are all less than what we think we could be, and, more often than not, less than others would like us to be. The Bible says that we are "made in God's image", the context being that we were made "above" the animals and therefore more important/better and entitled to greater responsibility and benefit. The longer I dwell upon the concept, the more I'm convinced that we're more like stick figures in the dirt (dust to dust, anyone) than 3-D imaging. If God is who we think
She is, anyway.
Now, the miscreant part. We are all [i]differently-abled[/i]. Michael Jordan. Mother Teresa. Frank Zappa. That's why I don't care for the term, it's a backhanded way to put one down.
We are all handi-capped - there are the things we'd stand hat in hand for if given the right circumstances.
My little community struggles with a language that does not have the capability to define it. "Suffers from." "Has." Emma has an extra chromosome in each and every cell. In that sense, she "Is" Down Syndrome - and while we're talking about language, I'm ever so glad that it wasn't 'discovered' by Dr. Asswipe. It coulda been. But she "isn't" Down Syndrome. But I digress.
Some people are happy to characterize themselves; people like you and me (I think it's why we became friends in the first place) have always resisted being labeled (except perhaps for "female impersonator").
Like giving up for Lent(yes, I gave up for Lent a few years ago, and haven't looked back), I'm convinced that more thought just makes more mud, committees of condescention in our own heads. Your affection for "Cripple" is, well, I'll keep the undergrad diagnosis to myself, we know what it is. Neither of us would be satisfied with any description put upon us by our fellow miscreants. I'm not saying that it's not worthwhile to rail against what are inherently prejudicial and ignorant. For me, though, it's become a larger picture that includes everyone. Emma's ultimately leveled the playing field for me.
Dude, we need to talk.
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