In what way does my acknowledgment of you, my desire to engage with you, and my getting out of bed make me worthy of congratulations? Why does my going about my business get special acknowledgment? What really makes me different? Yes, I have a disability but am I not entitled to a life outside of bed? Can I not function in society without having my day-to-day life being cheapened by having it reduced to little more than ‘inspiration porn’ for the ‘normals?’
On three days ago I went for a drink with a new friend, Sané, at the Baxter Theatre. We had a wonderful time. In fact, in the three hours or so that we were there (save the fact I accidentally broke a glass) nothing could have gone better. Since I lived literally a few streets away from the Theatre we both decided to go back to my house so that Sané could meet my two Golden Retrievers. The idea seemed simple enough, I’d done longer trips in my wheelchair. More to the point: I’d gotten myself to the Baxter in my wheelchair unaided – the trip was more than manageable. So when we decided that we’d walk back to the house it was less a chore for me so much as it was another day.
I’ve had a disability my entire life and I fail to see any way in which this makes me ‘special’ or ‘fascinating’ beyond the fact that the methods I use are different to a lot of other people. When we think about the extent to which we (as humans) differ from others on an individual level my ‘different approach,’ in fact, is not so ‘different’ after all. I’m just being me.
Thanks to bizarre social constructs that give off a signal that I am ‘weaker’ and ‘less able’ than others and my achieving basic, full engagement with society is worthy of congratulation. These constructs literally suggest that my going out to buy milk from the local is a medal-worthy feat. I’ve never had much direct exposure to this beyond little children. My evening with Sané, however, proved to be the first major, and most obvious, experience of being characterised as ‘inspiration porn.’