In Your Face: Answering Questions

Last night was again sweet time. I was invited over to a friend's place; another friend and her partner were present. And we ate food, good food, and talked late into the night. It was such a pleasure to be in their company and to share ideas, argue a little, and know how it feels to be understood. To have common experiences and yet have such different ideas about them. Truly friendship is awesome.

We swapped stories about what it is like to be out with our non-disabled (or disabled) partners (depending on perspective). Some of the saddest stories turned on stereotypical notions of gender and race. If s/he's a woman or non-white, s/he's automatically a PA. Did this happen after you met her (wow, you are so heroic for staying) or before (you weirdo). What will he have for dinner? Well, what's wrong with her?

I suppose given these stories, it was almost inevitable that we would turn to the question of what to do when people approach you on the street and say unacceptable things. I shared an event that happened recently that demonstrated the importance of giving a response. I was going into a shop and a man rushed to help me with the door. I had it under control and he just got his silly self in my way. Then, suddenly, he said, "God bless you." I looked at him non-comprehendingly. He repeated himself; I admit here that my confusion must have turned to a wtf look, but that in no way explains what happened next. We were looking at each other; then my chair jolted. He was kicking my chair. He landed 4 or 5 blows and then went on his way. The shop clerk and I were stunned speechless.

OK. So, some response is desirable, we agreed. And we went on to share some of our better, snarkier comebacks. I was explaining that, in Berkeley, in the crip capital, I recently got into it with a guy on this issue. He was protesting that he was JUST asking. I bit back, pointing out that I wasn't asking about his ugly-ass beard; he had ever right to go around as he pleased. He was furious. Wizard, a mostly mild-mannered, conflict-averse type, was shaking at this point; he felt I had handled the situation wrongly, disagreed with my argument, and, in different cirumstances, might even have endangered us. We weren't able to finish this conversation cuz we were off to dinner with more crips. They roared at the story; Wizard got the point and has been pretty supportive of the ideas if not the way I handled things.

But last night, I encountered Wizard's argument again. This time it was spun in terms of the social contract as well as in the general civil society, greater good, morally practical framework that Wizard used. Two key points link together here: the idea that the PWD should educate the questioner and the kind of moral impetus that suggests refusing this role renders the PWD part of the problem and not the solution.

I reject both arguments. I should not have to be your learning experience. And it is different for me/us. TAB, white, hetero-appearing middle class men have the luxury of choosing when and where they make their stands. They are not subject to the inquiring, aggressive gaze that preys upon a difference it can interpret as "lesser," "not good," "weird," "funny." And so it is that these people can use principle as their standard operating procedure.

We also talked about why these questions are so problematic. I mean, beyond the fact that they are sort of rude. Why is it that these questions are not neutral? Why are they not the same as, say, a child's desire to know why the sky is blue? I think my response recognizes the rejection and negative judgment implicit in the question.

One of us commented that we would be better off thinking about what prompted people to ask. This is a good question. It's not as if these asking types of people go up to, say, (sorry, this is difficult) black, disabled, homeless people and ask, "why are you in a wheelchair?" They approach me -- because I am approachable, I am more like them in some ways, there's a primary recognition of similarity, I think, that enables them to approach me. BUT at the same time that similarity is deceptive -- my thought is that it is this deception, this disappointment that compels them to deny my humanity and ask me to explain what's wrong with me and why I am in that chair.

My very first blog post tried to twist this question a little. I wonder if I can summon the humanity to respond.