Conflict Yoga

Once I understood the concept of
privilege, a situation with my yoga class became comprehensible. My instructor, a truly nice person that I like and respect, cannot see his TAB privilege. With all my verbal skills, nothing I say penetrates.

As soon as I am dressed properly and in the yoga studio, I am expected to allow others to lead me around the room. Should I need to move and nobody comes to help, I must interrupt to stir from my spot. When new people come to class, I must tolerate my teacher using language to describe my disability that I have made clear I do not prefer. I must wait until someone brings me the props necessary to do the assigned poses. If a verbal description of a pose is unclear, I must interrupt to get clarification. Then I must do the pose and hope the instructor has enough spare attention to tell me if I'm getting it wrong. In this way, I seem less capable and competent than I truly am, but I must accept this and any ramifications it engenders.

Are you wondering why I put up with this? First, let me remind you that I actually like and respect my teacher in all ways except this one. The type of yoga I'm doing is the only kind that seems to work for me, this is the best instructor at the studio, and I am fortunate to have a neighbor who takes class there and drives me to and fro. I'm also certain I would not find it to be any better elsewhere.

Why do I think this all boils down to TAB privilege? In conversations with my instructor, he has assumed I should be accepting of my dependency and my frustration with it indicates an excess of ego. Apparently, my presence also provides an opportunity for other members of the class to learn compassion and understand what it means to be a part of a community. I should be comfortable interrupting and in fact it is my responsibility to do so. His comfort-level with terms used to describe me supersedes any preference I state.

In other words, I should accept being put in a position of greater disadvantage than I experience in my daily life. It is incumbent upon me to do more to get the same things out of class other students receive without effort. My thoughts and feelings on the subject are less valid than the instructors because he somehow knows more about being a disabled person than I do.

There are signs of progress. Due to a series of circumstances beyond my control, I missed class two weeks in a row. This happened immediately upon the heels of me trying, once again, to articulate my feelings. When he sent me an email to make sure I was alright (I told you he's nice), I made it clear I had missed class for specific reasons, but it's possible he thought otherwise. It's also possible he thought through my words and finally they penetrated.

He referred to me as "blind!" The rest of his speech to the class was a bit.... distressing, but I am focusing on the progress. It's the first sign of progress.

More and more, I encounter good people who cannot seem to understand disability no matter what words I use, events they witness, or emotionality I display. If I could write off the individual as a jerk, it would be simple. Life is not that easy. Instead I'm left torn between my fondness for someone and offense at how they treat/judge me. How do you like someone who treats you in ways you find objectionable in the extreme? How do you dislike someone who is otherwise better than the average person? If you figure it out, do let me know.

Kinder Gentler Jen Gone Awry

The past week has been all about realizing how I have allowed others' perceptions of me to shape my thinking. And, let me tell you, it's not good. I even know the route cause and the situation is entirely of my own making.

It began a while back when I decided to become a Kinder Gentler Jen. Accused of being "too independent" and having offered assistance rejected once too often, I decided to take a step back and go with the flow. Perhaps it would make life easier teaching me something important along the way. guess what I've learned? The expression about easier not necessarily being better has major merit.

The KGJ (Kinder Gentler Jen) Approach translated into two major changes or should I say capitulations, the first related to yoga. I have been taking classes entirely composed of non-disabled people since April 2009. Once I discovered the teacher whose approach best suited my needs, I let him dictate how I functioned in the classroom. His room, his rules, so I didn't move around without a guiding elbow, someone retrieved all my props, and I wasn't allowed to do things alone other students routinely performed solo. Tentative chirpings about being less dependent were met with observations that my ego was getting in the way. Rather than blast my teacher, I let it go thinking maybe he knew something I didn't.

A couple of weeks ago, as per usual, I sat on the floor at the end of class waiting to be retrieved. A student came by and said, "Oh, don't worry, he didn't forget you." It was in that moment that I realized a situation I allowed to happen was perpetuating images of disability I loathe.

The true extent of the problem emerged when I discussed it with someone, who has a good sense of disability issues, but hasn't known me long. He was baffled at my behavior, and questioned why I wasn't pushing back insisting upon treatment that felt right to me. Awareness of my passivity and tolerance of ablist attitudes crashed over me light a ten foot wave.

And that's not even the worst of it. Looking for a means to change the situation, I considered how to start doing what was denied to me. While I could sort out the mechanics, I realized I had no faith in my ability to carry them out. another's doubts had literally caused me to feel less capable.

My KGJ (i.e. Wimp) Approach extended beyond the yoga studio to friendships. Routinely people decline my offers of help or stop my efforts because a sighted person can do it faster, better, or easier. Before, I would get pissy, but now I simply accept it and walk away.

Recently when I mentioned ability in an area, it resulted in a request for help. I was literally shocked and ridiculously grateful which led to realization and more shock. Somehow I'd become convinced I had nothing to offer others that couldn't be done faster and better by another. Thinking back, I even noticed times when I should have offered aid but did not because I felt my efforts would be inadequate.

In other words, people thinking I can't do things combined with me not challenging those notions has eroded my sense of value and ability. It's... disgusting. On an intellectual level, I always knew how a person was treated impacted their self-assessment. Naively I assumed myself immune. Something about living so outside "normal" and "typical" endowed me with protection. The unfortunate truth is that I am not only influenced by others but don't seem to know how to fight back. KGJ has gone from an experiment into ingrained behavior patterns.

You have no idea how much this rocks my world in a bad way. This leads to a question: Can you kick yourself in the ass? Maybe I should consult the yoga instructor on how to go about it.