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.
