About 10 years ago, I was standing in line at a music festival when I suddenly had a strong urge to go to the bathroom. I’d been guzzling water all morning, but I hadn’t anticipated how long the bus ride would be, or how many people would be waiting to get on the bus. Anyway, it didn’t matter. I had to go to the bathroom. immediately.
“We need to find a bathroom,” I told my sister. She could tell by the panic in my voice that I was serious, but I wasn’t going to wave her off and let her find one on her own. She had to push my wheelchair. “Faster!” I yelled as she made her way over pieces of wood, grass and dirt. When we reached a group of carers, she yelled, “Where are the bathrooms?” to a sweaty, uncaring man. He pointed to a portable toilet in the distance, just past the rows of roped-off queues that we had to pass first.
To me, this is comedy gold.
Disability is rarely portrayed as a comedy, which might feel a bit uncomfortable right now, since it’s usually portrayed as depressing. In movies, disability highlights a love story between two people who must face impending death, or a drama about a friendless misfit, which naturally includes a scene in which the parents encourage their child to ignore a bully (who ends up losing).
But the real-world perception of disabled life isn’t much better, either. There have been so many times when strangers have asked me, “What’s wrong?” as I hobbled my way towards her. If I tell her I was born with it, she apologizes for my cerebral palsy, because what else have we been taught to say? (Frankly, I wish more people would respond with, “Great parking, eh?” but that’s just my opinion.)
After a lifetime of observing public reactions to disability, I know how common it is for people to lament what they wish they could be and frown upon the way things are. Being disabled is something we hope we will never have and refuse to believe is possible. While some of these negative reactions may ring true, disability is can Sad and painful — this perspective often makes it difficult to appreciate the brighter layers within the complexity.
The truth is, having a disability can be funny.
Maybe my sense of humor is in tune with my morning coffee. As I pour myself a dark cup and walk from the kitchen to the living room, there’s a good chance I’ll lose my balance and spill a few on the floor. When that happens, I chuckle. I tend to think of my cerebral palsy as a physical source of laughter. I’m constantly bumping into corners and slipping on stairs, creating a personal soundtrack of “oohs” and “ahhs” that sound like the intros to ’90s club hits. Sure, it can be tough, but it’s nice to always have fresh material to work with.
We all spend our lives taking the state of our bodies very seriously. We should be this height or this size. We should have two arms and two legs and our noses should angle just right. Our bodies should walk and jump and lift and twist. We hide what isn’t universally acceptable and spend exorbitant amounts of money on “maintenance.” Of course, I’ve fantasized about what it would be like, especially when I was younger and still do now while waiting for the elevator.
But what I’ve learned over the last 30 years is what I have to do Whole body: My body and I are together. As soon as I accept my body as it is, I feel that my body is do not haveAnd from then on it became a lot more fun.
There’s always a crack in the sidewalk that I trip over, especially when I’m trying to look sexy. There’s always a cocktail that I splash when I walk across the room, especially when I’m trying to look sexy. There’s always a spiral staircase when I’m wearing impractical shoes, especially when I’m trying to look sexy. And there’s always my crush in view when I’m carrying a bag or walking up a hill or literally struggling to do anything and still look sexy. These are the costs I have to pay to always get the best parking space.
Maybe it’s because we’ve lived it that we’re able to find humor in disability. I was telling some old friends the other day that I like my neighborhood better than where they live because it’s much harder to find parking. One of them immediately said, “Isn’t it easy to find parking?” We all laughed. I could tell they were laughing. and At me — never at me. Once you accept that disabled lives are full, it’s a lot easier to understand the joke.
Kelly Dawson A Los Angeles-based writer, editor, and marketing consultant, she writes for Cup of Jo about how to meet people with disabilities and why New York City is so inaccessible. InstagramIf you like.
P.S.: How to make friends with people without disabilities and how to cope with meeting people with disabilities.
Source: Cup of Jo – cupofjo.com
