I continue to bump into the intense concern about the language we use. The concern has become obsessive, precious, and self-indulgent. I have written about this before. I posted an essay entitled “Pronouns and Pancakes,” which can be found on my website. The PC/woke movement has maneuvered to spare my delicate disabled feelings as well.
I quite recently had a chat with a student. She reported that in her education classes there is an attempt to scrub the language. The students are not supposed to use “handicapped.” One is not “disabled,” one is a “person with a disability.” I am NOT criticizing the student. I like her very much; I’m just taking issue with the curriculum.I told her I would be glad to come speak to her class and address these issues. I also told her to pass on to her classmates that her philosophy professor, who is “confined” to a wheelchair, (I’m not supposed to say that; I’m supposed to say I “use” a wheelchair), thinks this policing the language thing is “bullshit.” (I warned the students bad language was coming, and apologized afterward. I do not swear in the classroom; but I made an exception. They found this hilarious.)
The sanitized language is supposed to shield me from suffering. I find this condescending, belittling, and insulting. As if I have nothing better to do than sit around and worry about whether the word “handicapped” is wounding to me. Folks with disabilities have real problems. I have real problems. I’m not telling a sad story, I just have stuff that is galactically more important than whether I am confined to a wheelchair or whether I use one.
I have compression fractures in my spine from falling so many times. Last summer I fell and my head hit the concrete floor in the garage, and off to the ER I went in the back of an ambulance. (Readers of this blog have seen some of the photos.) There are other concerns I will not go into.
I do not presume to speak for disabled folks everywhere. I’m just speaking for myself. But I have met many, many people—stroke victims, accident victims, burn victims, fellow MS peeps—who have real concerns. And I highly doubt—call it a hunch—that they’re worried about the word “handicapped.”
I suspect who is driving this campaign to purge the language are not stroke victims. I am inclined to think it’s people who have the free time, luxury, and privilege to ponder such issues. They probably do not have compression fractures in their spines. They instead sip lattes and walk around their tastefully appointed homes listening to NPR and muttering banalities like “Confined to a wheelchair?? That can be improved!”
I’m not suggesting that our language cannot be tightened up a bit, and that we shouldn’t give some thought to the effect words have on people. Yes, we should probably count to ten and think through the language we use. That is not what I am talking about. I am talking about a culture that has lost its sense of proportion. It is so concerned about whether we use “homeless” or “unhoused” that we have forgotten about the homeless and why they are living in cars and tents.
At an institution where I teach, I was wheeling myself from the parking lot to the science building. There is a slight upward grade when you approach the building. Even a slight grade can be hard for folks in wheelchairs. So, I was struggling a bit, and a biology professor (I know who she is) walks by me and says “That looks unpleasant.” Giving me the finger would have been much simpler. I am confident that this professor uses all the right words. She probably uses ”differently abled” in her daily speech. Differently abled. Now that is insulting. Kinda like someone saying “That looks unpleasant” and not offering any help.
Keep your disinfected language. It’s condescending. I’ll take a push instead. And please vote for a president who is going to fight for universal healthcare. If you don’t, then you have a middle finger in my face, too.
