Act II

I am back; twice in one month. Yay! Ok, focus. This is going to be one of those theoretical mumbo jumbo posts with less rants and more philosophical and internal realization crap. You are warned.

I recently bought a book of poetry written by a Hispanic man and realized something. I can’t honestly think of any piece of art work created by a disabled person that really spoke of their experiences. You can find with out too much effort novels, poetry, or art that is considered ‘black’ or ‘hispanic’ because of the ways in incorporates certain cultural ideas and ways of life but when has any one ever seen that for disabled people?

Of course I am not saying we should wallow in self pity and let ourselves be wholly defined by our physical body. To let society label us as broken and wrong for existing the way we do  with out a fight would be to willfully degrade ourselves to second class citizens but, at the same time, to resign ourselves to a quiet life of simple non-existence is disgusting. Society should not be allowed to define us and our place and I even find myself annoying in my sudden need to group ‘disabled people’ together. Our culture likes to group everyone, particularly minorities, women, and the disabled. The fact is that there is no one ‘disabled perspective,’ the disabled are people with a large variety of personality and backgrounds so to think we all agree on shit is ridiculous.  

I could blather on forever, as you have come to find, but I will try to keep this around three paragraphs. Basically I have recognized a shift in my life separate from my course of study or possible occupation. I have spent most of my life, all but a year or two, trying to convince myself I was ok. I drank too much, drove too fast (not at the same time), listened to loud music, and dated emotionally abusive men and all of this accumulated over years of confusion and anger. The fact is that I am a vastly emotional woman who has survived on anger, condemnation of society, and a feeling of necessary vengeance. I have lived a life best described as a scream, a 24 year long scream that says ‘I am not wrong.’ I guess this post is really about my sudden need to make society hear me because I have finally heard myself.

Hooah,
Nest

Iago: society redressed

So it has been forever since I posted, just as I figured would happen eventually. Fear not readeries I have not abandoned you…yet. I have recently finished my first semester in grad school and have started working at a fast food restaurant as the lobby cleaner. (Side note: The napkin dispenser is NOT made to dispense 10 napkins at a time so don’t force it. Stop fucking up my shit!) As you might imagine working in a fast food restaurant with customers that are often not the brightest crayon in the box is not always pleasant, particularly if you can be seen as comical. This experience brings about a few thoughts. Thought 1: The disabled are not somehow magically unaware you are laughing at them just because you look away when they pass by…that actually makes it MORE obvious. Personally I don’t see how the misfortune of others is comical, particularly when it is a painful misfortune being experienced, but whatever. This leads to my next thought (queue rant). Thought 2: The disabled are in fact capable of whooping your ass pretty boy. Let’s see how funny we are when we shove our crippled fist down your throat motherfu… Inside voice….I feel better.

As for grad school….fail. I passed with much bitching but I have decided to change programs to (drum roll please) creative writing. Raise your hand if you are surprised. No one? Odd. While I was going to grad school in a program I must have been drunk to think was for me (what was I smoking?) I met a teacher that annoyed me. The only way I can describe how this woman made me feel is to say she made me want to eat babies. Do you know that feeling? Like a temper tantrum where you just want to go home and beat puppies….with kittens. Bless their heart. (Cookie if you name the reference) I am often amazed at some people’s ability to stare me straight in the eye when I express my, in this case, disbelief in their teaching ability and still brush me off. You speak Engrish?(Said in horrible Asian girl voice) Are we speaking the same language here? I managed to tell this woman that I no longer wished to have her as an advisor, that I stopped putting forth effort, and no longer cared about her class. What happened? I got BETTER GRADES. How the f&$% does that work? P.S. I have 0 filter.

I have subsequently found out that she has treated some of my classmates unfairly, to the point that half the class of highly intelligent students dropped or failed because she has favorites and has for years. Everyone in the program knows this, ‘good’ students included, so this is not just angry student syndrome. My question is this: Why the hell would I be a favorite? Let’s face it, I am not exactly a poster child for loveable. I am loud, brutally honest, foul mouthed, a bit of a lush, and generally everything my old south grandmother isn’t but yet I am attending a graduate program in a SMALL town in lower Alabama. My cousin works at one of the only two bars in town for God sake; I am talking banjo music and Baptist revivals people. So why would I be a favored student, particularly after telling her she basically sucked? Because it is hard to be mad at a cripple girl. I feel that this woman, at one point a social worker, feels sympathy. I can only assume if this is true that is it because of my disability and generally sickly look I had this semester as we are otherwise similar in background and status. So, **Misconception 5: When a disabled person airs their grievances it is a genuine problem and not that of an over reacting mind. We aren’t ‘emotionally damaged’ to the point that we find ourselves unable to have rational thought and thus rational issues with subpar behavior. You just really do suck and you need to take us serious. **

           Of course I may be reading the issue wrong and I really just remind her of some cousin twice removed or some shit but that is how I read it. Either way this is an issue I have experience before and has a name; ‘gas lighting’ but usually refers to the way in which men characterized women as over emotional and irrational. The idea is that women are trained by society to see themselves as irrational and emotional so when we are hurt by others we are often made to feel wrong for being upset. The same goes for the disabled. That person wasn’t actually being insulting by saying you couldn’t take bread from an oven so you are over reacting and should take their help as we all know you need it don’t we? Really folks??



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