Disability language

Letters from a Scrabble game, spelling "words"
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A “Person with Disability” or a “Disabled person?

The language question

Personally, I’m happy to be referred to as either a “person with a disability” or a “disabled person”. I use both to refer to myself. I am happy to use other people’s term of preference if these descriptions apply to them. Both phrases are a definite improvement on the options available when I was a kid.

A bit of history

When i was a child, some people referred to me as “crippled”. Others used the word “handicapped”. No one was being mean, just trying to describe my situation. “Crippled” always sounded to me like more of a write-off.  “Handicapped” seemed OK because, well, golfers have handicaps too, right?  Eventually, though, I heard that the reason disabled people came to be referred to as “handicapped” was because they came “cap in hand”,, as beggars. I’ve since heard that that’s not the case but it still puts me off using “handicapped” as a way to describe myself – whatever it means for golfers.

Life is much better when people just respond to me as a person. “Person with a disability” is a bit of a mouthful, but at least it urges people to consider the humanity I share with them over my “otherness”.  If I’m in a situation where I feel the need to emphasise that common ground, then I’ll call myself a “person with disability”. I’ll also sometimes use that if using “disabled person” is more confronting for my listener than I want it to be.  After all, many people have worked really hard to stop calling people like me “crippled” and “handicapped”. They understand that the only people I trust to use the word “spastic”  correctly are medical professionals.  They use “person with a disability” to treat me with respect and “disabled person” can feel like a backward step for them. I appreciate that.

I do often use “disabled person” when I talk about myself.  I have a physical disability.  Anyone who meets me in person will see me sitting in a wheelchair or walking around on crutches.  I don’t have much choice about disclosure. When I put in a job application, I can leave out my disability – and I usually do unless it’s relevant to the position – but if I get an interview, it’s not something I can keep to myself.

I often use “disabled person” to describe myself because my disability has a huge role in shaping my life. I would be a very different person without it. It’s forced me to learn a lot about discrimination, inclusion and justice. It’s made it much harder for me to find employment and to have choices about where I worked and what I did. It makes it really hard to find somewhat suitable and vaguely affordable housing.

Even if we lived in a different world where everything was physically accessible to people in wheelchairs and everyone recognised that disability is a normal part of human life, the fact that my body functions differently to other people’s would still make a big difference to how I live. It really is quite a defining characteristic for me, so “disabled person” feels right.  My disability is something I deal with every day and it makes sense that it’s reflected in the way I talk about myself.

In case anyone is wondering, no, “Differently abled” does not work because I did not get a superpower to compensate for having cerebral palsy.  “Special” is also pretty awful. I do have particular needs that come with having cerebral palsy, but they do not make me feel special; ripped-off, frustrated or annoyed sometimes,, but not “special”.

Of course, it would be wrong to end this discussion without mentioning that you should think carefully before using the all-time favourite “inspirational” to describe me.  It’s not that I never am.  I’ll accept it if you want to talk about the time I climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge (pre-wheelchair) or when I’ve performed on stage at the National Folk Festival.  Those things are achievements – not every day activities (for most of us, anyway). 

If, on the other hand, I’m doing something pretty ordinary like getting into a lift (without a carer- gasp!) or going to work, don’t tell me I’m inspirational.  I’m not.  I’m ordinary and, if you think about it, the only way I could be inspirational doing those things is if your expectations of me, as a disabled person, are so low they’re scraping the earth’s core.  I think you can see that those expectations say more about you than me – and it’s not good. 

The trouble is, we’re all guilty of speaking without thinking at times and “inspirational” has become the default compliment to disabled people when non-disabled people encounter us and want to be positive.  It’s well intentioned – it just doesn’t work for those of us on the receiving end.  If you’ve said it, don’t beat yourself up over it, but now you know why it might be received with a rather plastic smile.

There used to be a disability activist around called Stella Young.  Sadly, she’s no longer with us. She absolutely nailed the whole “inspiration” thing in a Ted talk a few years back. If you haven’t seen it, check it out.

So that’s my take on the language question.  What’s yours?

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