As World Spina Bifida Day has rolled around once more, I wanted to write another article related to disability justice and inclusion because it seemed the most appropriate thing to do. It probably would have taken me much longer to come up with a specific topic had it not been for a recent personal experience that I had, which ultimately drove me to write about microaggression. You might ask yourself what this means, as the concept has been trown arount a lot lately by people who may not even understand its significance. Psychologist Derald W. Sue, who's written two books on microaggressions, defines the term as "the everyday slights, indignities, put downs and insults that people of color, women, LGBT populations or those who are marginalized experiences in their day-to-day interactions with people". Think, for example, of a gay man being complimented for "passing as straight" or "not looking gay", a white woman clutching her bag as she enters an elevator with a Black man, who is then painfully reminded of racial stereotypes, someone on a plane asking the flight attendant to switch seats so they don't have to sit next to an Arab passenger or a woman trying to speak up in an important work meeting, constantly being interrupted by her male colleagues and then getting angry about it, only to be asked if it's "that day of the month".
Now, as I have talked about before, I have spina bifida, and use crutches to get around, but I'm also an intermittent wheelchair user, mostly in places like airports, train stations or anywhere where distances are too long for me to walk. So, a few months ago, I took a plane for the first time since the pandemic started and, as usual, I had hired the mobility aid service at the airport of my destination. As an avid traveler, I was eager to finally fly again. Unfortunately, it was their protocol to have someone from their personnel take me everywhere and not let me drive my own wheelchair. I could not even go to the bathroom without having this man waiting right outside. To top things off, because I look slightly younger than I am, everyone kept addressing my mother instead of me, not even bothering to make eye contact. I felt extremely uncomfortable, belittled and humiliated.
As a disabled person, I face all sorts of microaggressions all the time, such as being ignored, erased, underestimated or overlooked. They can go from barely perceptible as such to very annoying and downright insulting. Here are a few of the ones I face more often:
Lack of accesibility: Probably the most apparent. Back to my experience at the airport, I could not reach the counter to do the check-in, and the person behind me couldn't even see me. The same thing happens almost everywhere, because the counters are not at wheelchair level, so someone has to come out from behind to help me. And don't get me stared on the nightmare that is shopping! Whenever I go to the supermarket I always use the electric shopping cart, but all too many times they are either broken or have not been recharged, so I cannot use them at all. I remember one time that the cart was locked and nobody knew how to unlock it, so I ended up filing a massive complaint. Another time I was handled a broken wheelchair that I could not possibly drive, which didn't really matter anyway because the aisles were blocked by cardboard boxes. All in all, the lack of proper infrastructure is unaceptable.
Being moved without permission: This one should come with a small educational note for my walking acquaintances. For someone who uses a wheelchair, the chair is an extension of their body, and just as you don’t have a right to grab someone and drag them from one place to another, you should NEVER move someone in their chair without asking first. Pushing someone who uses a wheelchair and not asking feels like you would feel if someone simply picked you up off the floor and carried you like a baby. Whenever someone grabs me from behind unexpectedly, I get extremely frightened at first because I cannot see them or where they are taking me, not to mention the fact that it is a massive transgression of my personal space. And no, just because we take up more space doesn't mean you can do that. It doesn’t matter if we are in your way, an “excuse me” is more than enough and we will happily let you through.
Denial of autonomy: Back to what I said in the beginning, it feels extremely limiting to forbid someone from moving around freely. This happened to me during my first few months in college, as I was in a wheelchair from having surgery on my foot, and I was forbidden to drive my own chair. I was told that it was "protocol" because the university did not want to be held accountable if anything happened to me because I was allowed to move without assistance. Apparently, fear of liability is so ridiculously high that people and institutions have simply become paranoid and started denying basic autonomy to wheelchair users and other disabled people, making us feel much more dependant than we actually are. It's clear to me that this is not out of genuine concern for us, but for themselves.
Being infantilized: This one makes me particularly furious, because it not only happens when I’m in the wheelchair, but also when I walk. At the bank, at the doctor’s office, on campus or at the airport like it happened to me now, I’m systematically ignored and treated like I’m still a child. Whenever I’m accompanied by somebody else, the people in charge will talk to them instead of me, even when the conversation is ABOUT me and I happen to be right there. And sometimes when I am, indeed, addressed, the person will look at me with a sympathetic grin, using a tone that you would use to talk to a child and calling me pet names. This has gotten worse to the point where I have had to ask my mother to wait for me outside on multiple occasions just so I’m taken seriously, unwillingly making her feel upset because I do not want her there. But, at the end of the day, I’m a 24year-old adult woman and expect to be treated as such, regardless of my physical appearance. Don’t call me “sweetheart”, “honey” or “dear”. I have a name, and that is Ms. Statt.
There's, of course, many more, but these are the most common instances of microaggression that I face in my daily life, as most, if not all, disabled people do. I'm sure that others in my situation will relate to this a lot, and maybe start recognizing these signs for what they are for the first tme. After all, if this is something you have experienced your whole life, you are so used to it that you no longer notice that it is actually not normal for you to be treated in this way. I finally want to encourage everyone who is dealing with some kind of microaggression to speak up, and educate others on how to avoid them. It may not seem like a lot, but it will make a big difference for many of us.
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