On being nice
23:51
On Monday,
I was assigned a committee meeting to finally get my disability papers. Like,
you know, parking spot, welfare, refund to my wheelchair and stuff like that.
I dressed all
nice, but not too nice, took my
documents, put on all 7 braces I needed this day, hopped to the car and off I
go. And that’s where the tumblr-worthy drama started.
I took my
dad with me as a caretaker, even though he is, to be frank, a shitty one. But
no one else was available.
So I enter
the doctor’s office, get usual checkup, doctor is being an asshole but it’s
nothing I didn’t expect, I start to explain I have EDS but I don’t have papers
yet for it cause I’m waiting and…
“Get up
from your chair, I know it may hurt but I want to see you walk.”
Well, you
see, as I may limp a bit around house, where I know my mum is always next to me
to catch me, I do not “walk” anymore. I had, and sadly still have, my both
ankles twisted, my knee which likes to move on its own dislocated again, and
just before going out my hip popped off, which not being dangerous or anything
was still quite painful. I knew standing up meant falling down, and was sure
neither Dr. Asshole or my dad wouldn’t catch me.
“Um. I don’t
stand up.” I said. You see, I might been a bit defensive on this point, but
nothing to explain Dr. Asshole’s later behavior.
“What do
you mean you don’t stand up, I want to see you walk.”
“Well, I
don’t. I don’t walk.”
“Move to
the sitting place then.”
So I did,
holding up on my better leg and better hand, arranged my skirt nicely around me
and I sit. Doctor is wincing. I move back to my wheelchair.
“Well I’m
gonna need a psychiatric evaluation. I don’t believe you. You may be faking.”
At this
point I look expectantly at my dad but he does nothing. I remember I am
supposed to be nice to get the papers I need, I bite my teeth so hard my jaw
pops, and leave.
I go to the
bathroom and that’s where it hits me.
Fuck being
nice.
I do not
exist to make abled people feel comfortable. I do not exist to make abled people
feel good. I exist to make myself feel
good. And who even said I need to be nice in the first place? Because I’m a
woman and he’s a man? Fuck that too!
And, you
see, I am not a person to be quiet when angry. So I leave the bathroom and I
start yelling at my dad. I see the
office’s doors are open and I yell even louder that the whole committee is a
bag of unwashed dicks and Dr. Asshole needs to get his head out of his ass. And
that I demand to be explained why psych evaluation.
The doctor
leaves his office at this point. He tells me to be quiet and that I am being
inappropriate, that I could fail a complain but this is not a time nor a place
for me to shout.
So I shout
some more.
At the
point that I leave, he was called a fucker, an ableist and an entitled idiot
(all true). My dad comes back to apologize, and, to be completely honest, I
stand on the pavement and cry.
But my
point is: disabled people don’t exist for you to feel good. We are not required
to be nice. We have all right to fight for themselves. And we have all right to
call you out on your bad behavior.
Was I rude?
Probably, yes. I am not even gonna put it on BPD, I was just very mad and very
tired of being walked over. But am I proud of myself? YES. For standing up for
myself. For refusing to stand up.
So – fuck everyone
who tells you to be nice. You are not required to be nice. Honestly? NO ONE is
required to be nice, whether abled or disabled. You do not exist to provide
pleasant experiences to people around you.
Be bold.
Scream. Stand up for yourself. Be loud, take space. Don’t let them shut you up.
YOU are who is important and YOU is who is worth fighting for.
So fight.
***
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