Naysayers

"Ernesto" runs the cafe at the agency where I work. I noticed that my colleagues weren't encouraging E to do his job independently. I'd had some prior experience teaching cooking classes to blind teens, so I began working with him on grinding and brewing the coffee using nonvisual techniques. It's been a couple of months and he's completed training. He no longer needs our assistance to do his job. In fact, he's really great at it. He's a natural salesman, which I really envy.

My colleagues's have responded to all this not with encouragement as you would think but by grumbling about his "non- compliant behavior-" which I translate to mean that: they (the sighted staff) are made uncomfortable by the fact that Ernesto is doing his job independently- why? because said job involves handling hot liquids? And in what bizarre universe does wanting to do your job on schedule mark you as non- compliant?

Ernesto has come to me complaining about how these same staff members continue to tell him how to do his job. I suggested that he could go on strike on the days these folks' interferance becomes too much, but he has chosen to take the high road and negotiate, calling on a winning combination of charm and humor in dealing with these naysaysers.

I really don't care what they think. Ernesto loves his job and does it well. His social skilss are better than mine. End of story.

Blog Carnival #23- Consider It Brought

Simply the Best My friends are forever promising (or is it threatening?) to write a comic based on the antics of Jennifer Justice. I can live with it- kids need as many positive role models as they can get. But some of us are way too modest! I thought I would encounter more grandstanding, more swagger from our ranks. Not so!

True, we have good reason to recoil at terms like inspiring, amazing and heroic. But it is ironic that while so many of us work to reverse harmful Super Crip stereotypes, Able- Bodied America clamors at the high alter of shameless self promotion. For better or worse, our culture has decided that success should bare an uncanny resemblance to fame- mongering egotism.

We are an aggressive people inhabiting impossibly fragile bodies,

I don't believe in excessive modesty. But then again, I'm not sure I want to take on our megalomaniac culture, not all by myself. From what I've been reading, that culture ain't pretty. Maybe I'll just stick to being a snob who practices passive resistance in her spare time. And I'll rely on your words when I need to be inspired or need to be reminded of the dangers of thinking in superlatives.

Anti- heroes- the New Black I can certainly relate to this Top Ten List from The Blind Bookworm's poison pen, er, keyboard? Apparently, not all blind people are gifted musicians! Some of us even require an intervention. Thanks to Evil Kestrell for saying what I so often think! I too am bored by the whole "bad blind person" debate!

Critical Bogle explains why it's not easy being green when you have a disability and the "dolphin killing" big box stores are the only ones with accessible aisles and parking. And if you're in the mood for a more scholarly read, you can head on over to peer review Super Crips, Disabled Anti- heroes and the Women Who Care for Them, wherein Bogle examines gendered relationships in films like My Left Foot.

I love the premise of Thailand Gal's blog, on planning a move to a new country. Submitted for our reading pleasure a Theravada oasis of a sparsely populated forest far from ego. She encourages us to "tell someone else in your life what he or she does that matters to you."

Forget about inspiring others. We have better things to do. To quote Goldfish, "Impairment is something that happens to you or the way you happen to be, not something you take on." We look to our own friends and allies for affirming words. I know that when I feel like shit, the last thing I want to hear is how strong everybody else thinks I am. I'd much rather get someone else's take on a difficult experience, someone who shares a bit of my own philosophy (I'd be a fairly lousy existentialist).

What happens when an autistic kid saves a life? Is he twice as heroic as NTs who have found themselves in similar situations? Or is this an example of one cliche amplifying another?

Hidden Talents? "Stay tuned for the launch of my next website: The 19th Floor After Dark. it's sure to be your one-stop location for all things naked and disabled and lawyerly." Why does lawyerly sound so dirty? Better ask Mark.

Consumer Reports For a Wheelie Catholic, Ruth has some choice words for Medicare, sung to the tune of If I Had a Hammer.

On a happier note, Zuska and Mom offer their rave review of the funkadelic beach wheelchair.

Unsolicited Advice from "the Experts" Wow, we should consider ourselves lucky to have so many experts on our side. So many noble souls consulting on on our behalf. They claim to know what is best for us. Many of them work pro bono and they are remarkably persistent. Miraculously, they seem to know everything about us regardless of prior acquaintance, from what clothes we should wear to the type of medicines we should be taking. Ruth explains.

Thailand Gal discovered this week that the pharmacists at Target are more than eager to dispense life coaching in addition to scripts.

Snake Oil Celeb Now I have one more reason to despise Jenny McCarthy- just what I need. It took a D List Celebrity to find a cure for autism!

Best Explored Shilo examines the sensitive topic of guardianship for the Council on Developmental Disabilities- an engrossing topic and one that doesn't get anywhere near the amount of attention it deserves.

I received several reports on the disturbing child services case involving Fran Lyon in England.

Shaheen Lakhan at Brainblogger celebrated ADD Awareness Day by losing her car keys.

Stephen at Planet of the Blind offers scathing satirical commentary on the Defective People Industry. I can't believe I'd never heard that term before.

Finally, Emma reflects on the people who have come into her life as a direct result of having CP.

Eat Your Vegetables Robert embarks on one of the sacred rites of parenting. Check out that adorable Baby Afro!

Best of Show I was originally introduced to Creativity Explored by way of Michael Bernard Loggins, whose poem Fears of Our Lives was featured on This American Life a few years ago. Well known for their ambitious exhibitions and roster of talent, the folks at CE recently launched a new website where you can buy/ license original artwork, browse the events blog and get to know studio artists. Penny notified me of their upcoming show Super Heroes Super Villains.

Jodi at Reimer Reason just held a contest to come up with a "cool" alternative title for her son's new respite worker. Looks like they have a winner.

Best All Around I'm fast becoming addicted to Dave Hingsburger's blog Chewing the Fat, but it's hard not to when one encounters passages like this:

It came clear to me that 'choice' could only be made where there was both self-esteem and assertiveness. I saw a definition of choice for people with disabilities that helped me think this through. Choice is uncoerced selection.

Most agencies are concerned about the opportunity for an increased number of 'selections' but have not put much emphasis on the 'uncoerced' part. There is only choice where there is no fear of punishment. Where there is safety to select. Where the word 'REALLY' as in, "Do you REALLY want dessert?" "Do you REALLY want to buy that blouse?" does not exist.

Also, Dave wants you to label him- that's right. Hang a handicapped parking sign around his neck, folks, he's done. Here's your reward. Sorry we can't offer you a virtual beer buzz what with the limitations of current technology. A picture will have to do for now.


Thanks to Penny for calling my attention to some fab posts for this topic. The next disability blog carnival will be held at Disability Studies.

Visual Description: At top, a blue ribbon in closeup lying on its side. At bottom, Dave's "virtual beer" is a six pack of Pabst of course!

Tyra Banks, America's Moral Compass

Last week as America railed against national tragedy (no, not that icky war stuff! I'm talking about our fallen mouseketeer- where are you priotities people?!), Tyra Banks was back in the talkshow studio tending to the thankless job of saving America's youth from themselves. Here's a brief recap of Wednesday's Teenville episode:

Brave kids from various races and backgrounds spend time in a fabricated community, where they are faced with making quick decisions based on their first impressions of each other. From assigning occupations such as garbage man, mayor and prostitute to deciding who to marry and even who should be exiled, the outcomes reflect stereotypes that still exist in society today.

Wow, I feel safer knowing that Tyra is tackling this insidious social problem. I mean who knew that teenagers were succeptable to shallow, stereotypical behavior? What a scoop!

Tyra's mystified and outraged at some of the teens' mean choices, though a glimpse at the reasoning fueling her indignation is what's most appalling. In an interview with GMA, she talked about the groups' appointment of an overweight teen as the "Homeless Person." Tyra's noted that she herself had interviewed homeless people for a previous show and had observed that the homeless tended to be thin as they were in fact hungry. Deconstruct these words for yourselves, folks. I'm too tired.

Tyra's troubled not by the groups' cruel stereotyping so much as by what she views as its inaccuracy. Perhaps if her casting crew had pulled in a couple of disabled teens one of them could have lent the role more authenticity?

In reality, casting crews won't touch disabled people with a ten- foot pole. I throw up a little imagining the conversations that went on during production meetings for Teenville.

"Hmmm, let's see- garbage man? homeless person? Ooh, we'll need to pull in some uggos for those jobs."

"Are we looking for tv ugly or really ugly?"

"TV ugly, of course! This isn't Maury! Now, be a dear and get me headshots of some fat chicks..."

Am I too cynical? No, no I'm not.

For in the bizarro language of television, the fat girl is trotted out as a stand- in for ALL undesirable body types.

As for the girl the teens' decided was wearing too much eyeliner, she is SO NOT a prostitute! She looks beautiful, so don't even go there! Except that they did go there, coming down as hard on excessive makeup as they did on weight.

The thing I find most sad about the experiment is that none of the teens elected to reject or modify the occupations they were given, printed on dopey board signs. They followed the rules of the exercise, letting the group determine who they would be based on first impresions.

Tyra's clearly addicted to her own self righteousness, as evidenced by her two shows' preoccoupation with chiding perfectionism. The psychological landscape of Tyra's entertainment enterrprise should be studied. And I love the Dungeon of Self Absorption that is the Tyra Banks Show's website with links like Tyra's World.

Visual description: Five sad teens onstage at the Tyra Banks Show each with a white plaquard sign hanging around their necks. The two male Caucasian kids signs read Religious Leader and Mayor. The two African American girls' signs read Secretary and Garbage Man. The slightly heavier teens' sign reads Homeless Person.

Disability Blog Carnival #23 Is Simply the Best

The Resilience edition of the Disability Blog Carnival is up today at Reimer Reason. Next issue's theme is "Simply the Best," and girl, we are bringing it! And right on our home turf. That's right, I'll be throwing down and talking trash with the best of 'em right here at PH headquarters.

Simply the Best Your responses to this phrase may range anywhere from "whatever the hell that means!" to exploring the highs and lows of the SuperCrip phenomenon. You may have thoughts about those institutions that seek to decide what is "best" for others. I'm interested in everything from public swagger to revelations on personal folly. Of course, if you're really all that, or think you are, then be my guest honeyand bring it on!!! Send entries to thisislivingzine@gmail.com.

P.S. you don't have to be a saucy- mouthed teenager to participate, but it certainly can't hurt!

There's one thing I have on all y'all and that's my name which one could argue is both a blessing and a curse- but perfect for a disability rights activist/ SuperCrip heroine. I'm in talks with Marvel Comics as we speak! What makes you so special? Oh, right...

Visual description: This is a photo from an ABC news item about Jessica Parks, a high school cheerleader born without arms. Here Jessica practices a routine on an athletic field. She is held aloft by her squad mates who appear at the bottom of the frame with arms outstretched to catch her.

Whine and Cheese- I can't believe this thing is still around...

I'm taking part in Blogging Against Charity Day, hosted by Kara and Miss Crip Chick. Enjoy!

I remember watching the AMD telethon as a kid. I thought it was cool that kids with disabilities (who I totally identified with) got to hang out with celebrities for hours on end all in the name of a "good cause." The telethon looked like one big party- spoiled only by the pious whining of the host, who posed for pledge spots with children positioned like fashion accessories at his side.

The unease I felt towards Jerry Lewis was similar to the heeby-jeebies I experienced at Christmas in the presence of Mall Santa.

Mall Santa was inauthentic, tatty, an impostor whose job it was to affect paternalistic concern, the careless voyeur to my fledgling consumerism. Mall Santa had freakishly youthful skin and eyes. he said "like" and "cool" a lot. He could have been my older brother pulling a prank.

"So you want a Snacktime Kid? Dude, I heard those things bite kids' fingers off! Better not let it near your hamster, if you know what I mean!"

Mall Santa had surprisingly muscular legs, a high school jock in a fat suit and beard. I was mortified knowing that if I could feel leg muscles through the cheap velour suit, then surely he could feel my bony little butt. I felt dirty, like I'd signed up to make kiddie porn without knowing it.

When I was three, my mom was interviewed for a local fundraiser for the March of Dimes. I watched the show from home with my grandmother, talking to my mom through the television's speaker. For years I thought laugh tracks were the guffaws of people watching the same shows I was in their own homes. I'd laugh extra loud trying to hear my own voice in the chorus of chuckles.

My mom sat on a carpeted stage next to a large mounted television monitor. On the screen was a picture of a young mother pushing a child on a swing in a wooded playground. I don't remember what was said about me during the interview as a second generation disabled person. My mom was wearing a wool plaid skirt, the kind that always makes me think of librarians, and I remember the host asking her about the crutch that lay at her feet, about having polio as a kid and the effects it had on having kids.

My disabilities were too rare and too numerous to warrant a telethon. Nor did my disabilities elicit the classic "aww" factor favored by TV execs. Too many extraneous troubling things going on with my body at any given time to be easily "read" by viewers. Looking back I have to face the fact that I was a punk right out of the gate: too brassy, too bold, too weird to be typecast.