Over the past five months, my thoughts on access have shifted to such a degree that some friends wonder if I might be lying about how I experience the world.
Until this January, I never asked for access and I didn’t identify as Deaf or HoH. When I did question the way I hear, I often dismissed my own concerns as lying to myself or being dramatic. It’s hard to know, after all, how you hear relative to others. I frequently make “silly mistakes” in interpreting another person’s words, and these mistakes have always been an embarrassment. I’ve always hated phones. I do a lot of “filling in” that I don’t really think about to get the full meaning of a sentence, and I hadn’t really noticed how that differs from others’ experiences.
It wasn’t until a conference in January that I considered asking for PSE (ASL signs in English word order, basically) interpretation. I felt like such a fraud asking, and every other word/sign in my request was an apology. Even as witnessed how much of a difference it made for my ability to understand without strain and frustration, I felt guilty.
One interpreter, though, said something that resonated with me. He said that it doesn’t matter what your disability is, or even whether you have one. You don’t need a diagnosis. If interpreters give you greater access, and improve your experience, you have a right to request them.
I can’t say that my feelings on the issue have magically reversed in five months. I still ask myself if my hearing issues are “real,” or “enough” to ask for help. I suspect I have an auditory processing disorder, and I feel fraudulent when I identify as HoH as a shorthand. I don’t want to minimize anyone’s Deaf identity by using terms that imply a more difficult experience than I have. But I have been learning to ask for access, to request interpreters without fretting over the cost to event organizers and to ask for friends to repeat themselves when I don’t understand. I’ve also been attending Deaf events whenever I can, to surround myself with people who don’t see ASL as a “language of the disabled.”
One of the hardest things I’ve had to do, but one of the most important I think to fighting ableist attitudes, is to demand access and not accept excuses. When an organizer says “no,” “it costs too much,” or “we can’t find interpreters,” I’m training myself to challenge that attitude and confront organizers about their hypocrisy as social justice activists. I’m learning to stop myself from saying “it’s okay, I understand, I can hear enough to follow” and to instead explain that my access is limited and I’m getting less out of the event I paid for than other attendees. Who knows what effect these protests will have in the future, but my hope is that they will raise at least some awareness.
This post is for the Blogging Against Disablism Day 2012 event. Follow the link to read all the posts.
As a writer, blogger, and activist, I think I have a certain responsibility to think about how I express myself. Whether I’m writing a post or an article, having a casual conversation, or replying to a Tweet, it’s easy to use language without thinking about it. We all talk in the feminist and queer communities about how harmful societal norms are–whether it’s the pervasive use of “crazy” as a negative term, the way rape culture is subconsciously taught and accepted, or the societal pressure on women to be thin and “pretty.” A lot of us end up with increased awareness of certain types of language through activist communities, and I love how this happens and very much encourage everyone to blog or just talk about terms you notice people using that support the kyriarchy.
Today, I want to talk about a particular group of words that I find harmful and am working to eliminate from my own speech. The words I’m thinking of are associated with the garbage–from words that describe what we take in (“junk food,” “trashy books”) to words that describe what we are (“trailer trash,” “sloppy seconds”). These words, in my experience, tend to apply primarily or only to things that are associated with poverty or “low” culture. When a middle or upper class person talks about things in the first category, it’s common to speak of guilty pleasures and indulgences–“I know I shouldn’t eat so much junk food; I’m putting trash in my body but it’s just so good.” This kind of language implies that 1) we should be guilty about things that are labelled “trash” and 2) these are a temporary deviation for middle and upper class people, ultimately linked to individual responsibility.
I could go on for days about what’s wrong with the way we talk about individual responsibility in Western capitalist countries, but to stick to my main point, what sucks about this kind of language is that it implies that people who consume such things should be guilty, and further that they are bad people because of what they consume. It’s not a big leap from “junk food” and “trashy magazines” to trailer trash, or from saying someone’s clothes are trashy to saying that she is trashy.
Elitism is easy not to notice when you’re raised to value education, health, etc. and to look down on “guilty” or “nasty” habits. I know I tend to talk a lot about “guilty pleasures” or be embarrassed about certain books or music. So here’s a challenge to those of us who were raised in that environment, or for whatever reason find ourselves boxing habits into “good” and “bad” categories. Let’s try to think about these problems when we’re writing, and especially not to use words like “junk” or “trash” to describe habits or people. Also, let’s try to avoid the trap of talking about how people are “victims of their environments” or using the language of pity when talking about access to education and culture. This kind of language assumes that culture has an innate value, that people who don’t have access to “high” music, literature, food, or clothing are stuck with “low” forms. It ignores the inherent value of these things and ascribes unnecessary guilt to their consumption. Taste is a matter of individual preference, so let’s all make an effort to stop demonizing others’ tastes and start questioning the origins of our own.