By Heidi Johnson-Wright
It’s sometimes hard to gage how folks see you when
you have an obvious disability. In their eyes, are you a pitiable creature, a
thing to be loathed, a fetish object or simply another human being? I
occasionally assume the worst about TABS – the temporarily able bodied. I catch
myself now and then presupposing someone harbors bigoted views, even if they
don’t.
When I was younger, I used to secretly put others through
tests. Perhaps it wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but it seemed necessary at the
time. I would make a new friend or meet a cute guy who was boyfriend material,
then see how they would react to my disability in certain situations. I was B.
F. Skinner and they, my lab rats.
When I went away to college at 17, I had my first
personal care attendant that wasn’t a family member. I felt an immediate
connection to her. She was enthusiastic but not fawning, and clearly had a
sense of humor. She seemed perfect. Or was she?
One day shortly after Lexie had begun working for
me, we were in the dorm bathroom. She was helping me with my morning ablutions.
We were telling jokes – some cheeky, others raunchy – to pass the time. When it
was my turn, I told her a joke that poked fun at disabled people but was
straight-up hilarious. She laughed and shook from her head to her toes. Other
people I’d told that joke to had frozen just after I delivered the punch line,
afraid to laugh. Lexie showed no such fear. She passed my test with flying
colors.
The tests I devised for boys were different. If --
when I first met them – I’d been walking, I made sure they’d see me later in my
wheelchair. I then watched their reactions. Did their faces show shock or
disgust? Discomfort or curiosity?
If a boy passed my initial test, then he moved to
the next level. On a first or second date, I’d be sure to hold his hand at the
restaurant or movie theater. My hope was he’d be at ease being seen with a
disabled chick in public. Usually, he passed. Usually.
Looking back, I realize that my little tests were as
much about my own presumptions and biases as anyone else’s. I wasn’t yet
comfortable in my own skin and sometimes projected my discomfort on others. Now
in my fifth decade of living with a disability, I can finally admit it.
http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com/2014/11/testing-tabs.html
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