Passing Thoughts

"Howdy! I Pass. Have a nosh."

I know it's not PC, and a lot of disability rights activists would take away my cane and whack me with it; but I Passed. Having invisible disabilities allows for a world misperception -- and not disclosing them sometimes created options I otherwise would not have had. Mainly, I chose to Pass until it was time to come out of my disability closet. And for a long time, there were about a million reasons to be labeled Able.

Then, when Passing became physically and mentally impossible, I just Stopped. It was time...

"Yo! I'm Out Now!"

I'm not an Angry Activist. But I've got some things on my mind. I've noticed over the years how the disabled are marginalized and treated as less — and consistently paid less for the job as that performed by an able-bodied person. Our very disability status is often questioned and derided without compunction. Even the American language marginalizes with so-called acceptable expressions, like: “That’s retarded.” (I hear this often among young people and, most disturbingly, mostly from young women. Why is this?) Some disabled folks routinely apply labels like “gimp” and “drooler” and “dain bramaged” to themselves; but these labels are used not to include or create haven but to take away from those who would use them against us first. (The only exception to this rule is among Polios, where the word “Polio” is used to not as a generalization but to include and define.)

People with disabilities are still viewed as less.

Disability is often a matter of perception before acceptance. Prejudice against those who appear obviously physically or mentally challenged is deeply ingrained in our culture. If one doesn’t appear disabled, there’s also a weird reverse discrimination. I hate that the most.

But you don't look Disabled...

Just because I accept my disabilities doesn't mean that I am those things. I exist as the Other. My trans friend gets it best; he, too, views disability as a sort of Third Space. I am Disabled but I am not Unable. I'm imperfect and yet a Borg Twin. It's all very fluid.

If I am Disabled and I'm Out, then who am I?

I live with constant, devastating, chronic pain but I define myself as Aphasic. I rarely use self-degrading expressions and then only to others whom I perceive to be Disabled — and then only when they will not understand what “aphasia” is or means or at times when I cannot explain comfortably. As a rule, society views the brain injured as damaged. I am not damaged. There are also times when I don’t claim my Aphasia, as I don’t appear brain-injured outwardly — and it’s just easier that way. But --

I never for an instant forget who I am: Pain and Aphasia — two invisible disabilities, indivisible, whole & yet diverse.

©2007 by SilenZ