ableism

On my gender being "a wheelchair woman".

17:50


 You know, if usually I’m a mess, then since these last two weeks I am A Mess. I would look for an excuse why I wasn’t writing any posts, but the truth is I’m ill and it’s the best excuse you can have. Chronic fatigue and pain kicked my ass and I caught costochondritis (google it, honestly, it’s an awful illness we EDS folks catch like a common cold. It’s my second one in last three months.) which tied me to bed running on aspirin and oxycodone, so I was in no shape to write. I still am, to be completely honest, but I had to share my thoughts on this lovely topic. Lovely being high sarcasm.

Blowing my college fund completely, I got a Smart Wheels-like wheelchair. I ordered it in February, but it was ready just this Monday. It enabled me to go out much more than I used to, taking the strain of wheeling, which was becoming unbearable on my hands, from me. And I am now seeing the “casual world” (in opposition to the world I saw on rental chair, only hospitals and clinics, and once a park) from the perspective of a person on wheelchair. And oh do I see things.

Month ago I took part in wonderful interview, the one I mentioned before, on topic of disability in queer women. Among other things, my interviewer said one things, that I now tested very painfully in reality.


Women [whether cis or trans] on wheelchairs [I’d add that with visible disability in general] are perceived as a completely different, new gender. Gender that is robbed of any sexuality, is completely non-sexual. They’re no longer women, they’re a different species that is seen as unable to be understand. [paraphrasing, obviously, as I do not possess any transcript of the session]


And we are. We totally are. I saw it before, to less extend, but now I see it in full light.

It can be small – like total lack of male gaze on us ( meaning sexually objectifying gaze), sudden lack of romantic proposals at all, no dates, no interest in us. I’m a fairly attractive young woman. Hell, I’m gorgeous. I’m also fairly intelligent, charming, cute, funny. Before my disability became visible, I had people “in real life” crushing on me, asking me out and so on. Now, as a wheelchair girl, the only people interested in me are people I met online, who got to know my personality first, before meeting me and seeing my body. Men do not stare at me as they did before – which for me as a gay woman is genuinely nice, but still proves the point. I can both feel it, and had people say that they noticed it too.

It can be a bit worse – as people treating our bodies as a public property, touching the way they wouldn’t touch an abled person, asking inappropriate questions. As doctors seeing out bodies as sexless. As health providers suddenly forgetting we have sex lives. As people being confused we are sexually active or even not-asexual at all.

You probably wouldn’t grop a stranger woman’s body in public, would you? I had people, regardless of gender, who did, who even went as far as casually touching my boobs. But I shouldn’t mind, should I? After all I’m not a sexual being at all so why would I mind someone touching my private places. (I wanna specify: I do not think breasts are sexual organs, they’re for babies. But in general, they’re perceived as a rather intimate part of the body.)

When at the first time I applied for disability, I got a doctor who had no idea what EDS was, and from just looking at me told me I’m a nice girl and should go marry and have babies and not “want to” be disabled. The second time, the same doctor, I had a card from my usual doctor providing all the details on my illness and how it stops me from various aspects of life, as studying, working, driving a car etc. This time? I was not a nice girl anymore, I was just a broken body. The difference was literally so palpable my dad thought we both went crazy suddenly cause it cannot be real.

It can also be my favorite type of ableism aka “I could never date a girl on a wheelchair”. Or even better, followed by “you’re cool tho, no offence”.

No offence taken, obviously you cannot see me as a sexual being, as a hypothetical girlfriend, as I am made of metal pieces and wheel gears and I do not possess a sexual body at all.

You see, I was only out a couple of times and I have more than a dozen of these stories to tell. I am literally the other gender now, I am invisible at best and outward hated at worst. I am not seen as a woman, as a future mother, future teacher, future lover, no, I am sexless, I am completely washed of any sexuality.

You see, I’m a rape survivor with severe PTSD, I am also accidentally a person on asexual spectrum, whether those two things are connected I’m trying to find out by therapy. But even I, not being terribly enthusiastic about sex, do actually mind this. Very much.

I am a woman. And I want to be seen as one. I want to be seen as a sexual being cause I am a sexual being. I am not fond of being treated as a little child.

So to y’all who could never date a girl on a wheelchair. Look at your reasons why so. We’re people just like you. Girls, I am just a girl, just like you. I am sexual like you. I wanna have sex like you – with you. I’m not a different gender.


I’m just a human being. Extremely tired, bitter human being.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On 28th of July I turned 22. I can't believe I'm 22 and still have to blog about this shit. Two decades of my life and we still have ableism. Yikes.
Anyway, happy birthday to me.

ableism

on "allies"

00:24

A/N: Unedited post. All mistakes are mine and I'm sorry.

 ---------------------------------------------------

You know, this was gonna be a different post. I actually almost finished it. But then I checked facebook, cause I’m a chronic procrastinator. And thus, this post was born.

I disappeared for a while from here, cause a lot of things were happening at once. One of them is both fucking amazing and fucking sad – I got professionally diagnosed by geneticist with advanced EDS type 1, meaning two things: I will get highest disability benefits, and my health is a fucking disaster. I won’t walk again, my hands are deteriorating quickly. Dealing with diagnosis is going…well, badly is one word. I’m trying my best, but a lot of times I’m just very sad and tired.

Most of times, I try to avoid social media outside of tumblr, which is my “safe place” where all disability-related tags are blocked. I try not to think. But couple of things happening made me make an angry post on facebook, calling out people who only help disabled folks (focusing on wheelies) to make themselves feel better. You know the type, right? Yeah.

You see, lately my mum, who is my caretaker at home, all the time, 7 days a week, went to job-related course. My mum is unemployed, and tries to find a job for a long time now, so it’s great! Less great is that no one from my family actually helped, so she had to leave me alone at home. And it was bad. 4 days now, twice I had to almost call an ambulance, and once I fell from pain and couldn’t get up. I’m not fitted to be home alone, and it makes me angry, of course it does, I’m a grown woman and I really wish I could be independent. But I’m not.

I have two aunts, I have a father and my father have a huge family, but no one agreed to help. Cause they all pretend I’m not sick. I’m bitter as fuck so I’m gonna leave this aside, and focus on what I wanted to say.

I made the post about this family, but hey, it was typical angry vagueing, I didn’t mention anyone. And lo and behold, one of my aunts jumps, angry, asking who do I have in mind.
And, you see, it’s where this post brings us. To people like my aunt.

I can’t really judge my aunt, as her disabled daughter died almost 3yrs ago. She definitely knows the struggle – of a parent.

She doesn’t know the struggle of a disabled person, so she can’t put her opinion here.

You cannot say you’re a good ally, good family member, when you actively avoid helping someone who asked for help. You just aren’t. You can’t just help us to make yourself feel better when YOU need it. You gotta help when WE need it. Got it?

When I’m on my chair and you’re a caretaker you don’t push me or give me stuff when YOU think I need them, or when it’s comfy for you. You listen to ME.

So, in short: if you only help when you feel like it, you’re a shitty ally.

You can’t call and ask if I need help and when I say I do say you’re busy. It doesn’t work this way.

To my family: fuck you.

To you, my abled readers: please don’t be like that. We depend on your help.

To my spoonie readers: my heart is with you.


Alex out. Cause I’m too angry to continue.