Before we begin, I want to take a moment to express my sincere gratitude and sheer excitement that you decided to stop by today.
This blog is based solely on my own experience. I am using an example related to my disability because (I believe) it paints a wonderful picture of the power of assumptions. In reality, those assumptions need not be specifically related to persons with disabilities; they may be about people who identify as part of a particular race, gender, religion, socio-economic status (etc.) or any other minority group.
I understand that we are together on a human journey of growth and learning; there is no judgement or condemnation here. I hope that as you come to the end of the text and prepare to navigate away from this page, you understand my intention to to affirm certain ways of being, to gently challenge assumptions, biases or ideas that we may hold with regard to our neighbours - especially those who are different from us - and to create space for important, productive dialogue.
I hope that together, we can engage in a process of learning and unlearning, challenge one another to embrace critical ways of thinking about important issues, and encourage one another to swim - safely and confidently - in the deep end.
With that said, let's dive in!
People with disabilities are often considered different, unsuccessful, and less fortunate…In addition, their capabilities as partners, parents, friends, and employees might be doubted and considered less valuable…particularly if their behaviour does not match up with the normative expectations of others. Charity images that portray people with disabilities as inferior are more likely to lead viewers to perceive the depicted individuals as less capable of performing daily life activities and more reliant on others for their care. Such perceptions have important implications because it has been shown that individuals who are regarded as being more capable are better accepted by others. (Kamenetsky et al., 2016).
Late last year, I went to a doctor’s appointment (a yearly check-up at a rehab clinic). I had been experiencing some numbness in my hands and forearms, and I wanted to make sure everything was OK. Because I use forearm crutches to walk, and my hands regularly bare more weight than most, I knew the numbness could be a sign of carpal tunnel syndrome (more on this in a future post!).
After some exploration, I was referred to a specialist for further tests; turns out, I do have mild carpal tunnel. The doctor I was referred to works specifically with patients who experience carpal tunnel symptoms – many of whom are those with CP or other mobility disabilities because our hands and arms are often used more frequently and in different ways than persons without mobility disabilities.
During these sorts of medical appointments – I haven’t had many, but all the ones I have had follow a similar structure – the doctor starts with taking a history. They inquire about health, family history, fitness, past-times, activities of daily living, notable concerns and so on.
The doctor was attentive, friendly and thorough. We talked about my family history, any health concerns, and my penchant for working out. When I told him that I left my wheelchair behind as a child, in favour of forearm crutches, he expressed surprise that I was still using them after seventeen years…I guess most people with CP start experiencing symptoms of carpal tunnel much sooner than me, when you consider that typing, swimming and (for me) walking, all exacerbate the wear and tear on the nerves.
I thanked God for my genetics, stubbornness and strong supporting muscles and tendons after that appointment.
When we arrived at the portion of the history where I was meant to talk about my activities of daily living and about my economic/social status, the doctor gave me two options:
“Do you stay home, or go to school?” He asked.
Full stop. I waited expectantly for a follow up question.
I was waiting for something like:
“Are you working?” or,
“Do you have a means of supporting yourself?” or,
“Are you self-sufficient?” or,
“Can you tell me a little about what you do for a living?”
No such question followed. Based on my interpretation of his question, there were two – and only two – possible preoccupations for my time; I either stayed home, or I went to school.
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I want to pause here to make the very important point that the purpose of this blog is not to discuss the merits of life choices for different people.
I recognize that making choices such as whether or not to go to work, to go to school, to stay home or to (insert options D through Z here), are often much more complicated than simply deciding to do so.
This is not a place to condemn or to judge, rather a space to encourage and validate your strength.
If you are reading this and it was a struggle to get out of bed this morning - I see you. You are strong enough. You are important. Your journey is beautiful.
If you are reading this and you chose to stay home to take care of your family today - I see you. Your effort matters. You make a difference. Your journey is beautiful.
If you are reading this and you are frustrated to be home, not out of desire but necessity - I see you. You are valued. You are stronger than you know. Your journey is beautiful.
No matter where you are - whether you're thriving on shore, if you feel more like you're floating, unmoored in the middle of a vast body of water, or, if you're busy treading water, embracing your offshore adventure - I am so glad you are here. I see you.
There is nothing wrong with staying home, or going to school, or whatever else you choose to do.
There is, however, something problematic about limiting my potential based on your assumptions about people like me. We are all human, and our experiences, desires and skills are as unique and vast as the sands of the sea.
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I am by no means picking on this doctor; he was a wonderful human, and likely had the best of intentions. I would like to gently challenge, however, the biases and assumptions that we may have about the potential of persons with disabilities to do more than either “stay home, or go to school.”
I would also like to point out that our use of words – our engagement with language – is incredibly important. By asking me a closed-ended question, this doctor greatly limited my ability to respond.
Thankfully (though perhaps not so for the poor doctor), I am no longer shy about gently, but firmly, setting the record straight. Especially with medical professionals, who regularly interact with patients, and whose perspectives are often held to a higher standard.
“Actually,” I said, “I am in school. I just started my second Master’s program. I’m following up my Master of Social Work with a counselling degree, just because I like school so much. I also work full time, creating employment opportunities and educating employers about the importance of creating accessible and inclusive work spaces for persons with disabilities.”
He stared at me for a moment, then began scribbling in his notes.
This interaction was an important one in my mind, for a few reasons:
1) Not everyone is comfortable, has the privilege or the capacity to speak for themselves, or to gently correct the conversation when an incorrect assumption is made.
2) It was a wonderful example of the potentially damaging nature of presumptions about potential.
3) It showcases the power of language.
4) It can be easily rectified.
If this doctor had simply used an open-ended question, such as, “tell me about the types of things you do on a daily basis; work, school, leisure time…” and approached my history with an attitude of curiosity and openness, he could have become my ally in that moment.
Simply by modifying his use of language, he could have affirmed my right as a human to occupy important space, and empowered my ability to share my experience.
Let’s choose our words carefully, friends. Let’s not limit one another based on our own understanding, our assumptions or our biases.
When you think about people with disabilities (or persons of any minority group, for that matter), what do you think of? What categories, biases or presumptions fill your mind? Do you feel sorry for me? Inspired by me? Think I am lazy or taking advantage of the system?
Am I fulfilling a stereotype in your mind?
For this doctor, my potential was limited, based on his idea of persons with disabilities, and perhaps his experiences with other patients. In his mind, it was reasonable to assume that I either stayed home, or went to school.
As I said, the purpose of this post is not to condemn a well-intentioned physician. Neither is it to point a finger at well-intentioned humans who are in process (like you and me, friends!) and who are engaged in a daily struggle with growth and learning. We are all human, on a journey that is uniquely complicated and beautiful.
Rather than assume we understand another person's experience, let's dig deep, reach for empathy, and learn to lean in - rather than away from - people who are different from us. Let's learn to swim together, share the lane, and embrace life's deep end adventures together.
Today, and every day, I would encourage and challenge us to evaluate our assumptions, prejudices and biases. To broaden our perspectives, and in some cases, abandon them all together.
Consider the way you think about people and about certain things. How do you talk about people who are dissimilar to you? What language do you use to describe them? Be critical of your own thoughts, and endeavor to unlearn limited or problematic thinking patterns.
Education is powerful, my friends. We have the ability (and, I believe, the responsibility) to challenge ourselves to think differently – more openly – about people who are different from us, and whose experiences are different from our own.
The world will be a much brighter and more beautiful place when we learn to take the ***you know what*** out of assumption. When we start to critically examine our thinking patterns, and focus our energy on loving, respecting and befriending our neighbours.
💕
Kamenetsky, S. B., Dimakos, C., Aslemand, A., Saleh, A., & Ali-Mohammed, S. (2016). Eliciting help without pity: The effect of changing media images on perceptions of disability. Journal of Social Work in Disability & Rehabilitation, 15(1), 1-21. doi:10.1080/1536710X.2016.1124251