Okay, other disabled people, I have a question for you. Have you ever noticed that non-disabled people in your life seem to pick and choose what aspects of your disability they will and will not deal with? This is the friend who will come over and visit, but not go out because finding a wheelchair accessible restaurant is just too hard. This is the person who will understand what it is like to encounter an inaccessible building, but will not understand how socializing can be inaccessible. This is the individual who knows all about your deafness and moves heaven and earth to accommodate it, but thinks you should maybe just try harder to be less depressed.
Society creates disability. Society makes dealing with the disability the responsibility of the disabled person. Our loved ones further add to the situation by cheery picking the consequences of our disabilities they do and do not wish to cope with. In this age of unconditional love, disability is somehow outside the bounds of what those who love us are expected to handle. It's somehow too much to ask or expect.
I guess I've missed all the chances in my life I've been given to "decide" if I wish to deal with this or that aspect of my disabilities. Maybe the offer was tendered in print?
Should such a proposition have been made, for my entire adult life, I would have replied that disability is a package deal and to separate it is akin to selling a house one room at a time.
Lately the conditionality with which those around me "accept" my disabilities has begun to irritate me in a way I cannot dismiss. Maybe if the conditionality was explained in terms of their shortcomings. "Jen, I want to drag you to this movie, but I don't think I can describe it. What can I do?" Instead, people just conveniently assume, despite me saying the contrary, that I can't go to movies. Or maybe if it was broached forthrightly. "Jen, what do we do about my other friends who don't know how to interact with a blind person?" Unfortunately, in its place, I'm left to fend for myself.
More and more, I've been feeling like one of those boxes you get at a yard sale or auction. You bought it for the cool bowl on top. When you get it home, you sort through and set aside what you want and what you will discard.
Well, I've decided I'm no longer a yard sale box. I haven't yet figured out how you go about manifesting such a decision in the real world.
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Clash of Chemistry and Reality
The other day someone asked me how I know I'm attracted to another person. I realized the answer might be of interest, so here you go.
First, whether sighted or not, physical attraction comes in many forms. While you might think it's dependent upon vision, in actuality that's not the case. If physical chemistry were reliant upon sight, everyone would have sex with the lights on. Internet dating in the mid 1990s illustrates my point. Back then, pictures were not posted online. You did it via the U.S. Postal Service. Long before people's images had wended their way back and forth, attractions began to grow. I'm not saying people didn't want that visual confirmation of chemistry, but they did feel a zing despite no visual input.
For me, attraction is a very indefinable thing composed of how a person treats me, their manner in general, and how I feel in their presence. I have been known to react to chemistry after thirty seconds. Or less. People give off some unnamable thing that I perceive and interpret without conscious thought.
It's not pheromones, which require a functional olfactory system that I do not possess. It's not dependent upon touch for it often happens prior to physical contact. It's not even a case of being so desperate that I'll go for anyone who treats me well. Something happens on dare I say animal level and my hormones start parting.
Now, here's the interesting part. That chemistry can fade in the face of actual physical exploration. People feel..... odd. It might be because I don't go around feeling people regularly. Perhaps I get an image in my mind and the reality doesn't match. Possibly I have emotional chemistry with someone but not physical. Whatever the case, it's rather disconcerting.
Imagine, for a moment, what happens. I am attracted to some person and it seems to be mutual. Eventually, things go from hand-holding to more. The first time I touch someone's face can be kind of a turn off. So, there I am, having my first physically intimate experience with someone and while they are touching what they have already known through sight, I'm getting my first "look." Should it not be what I thought, then I'm suddenly torn between how it felt five seconds ago before initial contact and how I feel at the present. Totally ruins the moment for me.
There has only been one time in my life where I didn't have chemistry with someone at first meeting rather growing over time. To be precise, about three years. Suddenly, my hormones woke up and started paying attention. Surprised me.
The great part of that experience was discovering feelings evolving in such a way somehow become independent from the physical. It's THIS person under my fingertips and that feeling can overpower the actual sensory input.
I've unfortunately come to the conclusion that if I don't want that moment of dissidence between the intangible chemistry and reaction to the physical reality, then I have to wait until I know I will be touching someone for whom I have strong feelings.
First, whether sighted or not, physical attraction comes in many forms. While you might think it's dependent upon vision, in actuality that's not the case. If physical chemistry were reliant upon sight, everyone would have sex with the lights on. Internet dating in the mid 1990s illustrates my point. Back then, pictures were not posted online. You did it via the U.S. Postal Service. Long before people's images had wended their way back and forth, attractions began to grow. I'm not saying people didn't want that visual confirmation of chemistry, but they did feel a zing despite no visual input.
For me, attraction is a very indefinable thing composed of how a person treats me, their manner in general, and how I feel in their presence. I have been known to react to chemistry after thirty seconds. Or less. People give off some unnamable thing that I perceive and interpret without conscious thought.
It's not pheromones, which require a functional olfactory system that I do not possess. It's not dependent upon touch for it often happens prior to physical contact. It's not even a case of being so desperate that I'll go for anyone who treats me well. Something happens on dare I say animal level and my hormones start parting.
Now, here's the interesting part. That chemistry can fade in the face of actual physical exploration. People feel..... odd. It might be because I don't go around feeling people regularly. Perhaps I get an image in my mind and the reality doesn't match. Possibly I have emotional chemistry with someone but not physical. Whatever the case, it's rather disconcerting.
Imagine, for a moment, what happens. I am attracted to some person and it seems to be mutual. Eventually, things go from hand-holding to more. The first time I touch someone's face can be kind of a turn off. So, there I am, having my first physically intimate experience with someone and while they are touching what they have already known through sight, I'm getting my first "look." Should it not be what I thought, then I'm suddenly torn between how it felt five seconds ago before initial contact and how I feel at the present. Totally ruins the moment for me.
There has only been one time in my life where I didn't have chemistry with someone at first meeting rather growing over time. To be precise, about three years. Suddenly, my hormones woke up and started paying attention. Surprised me.
The great part of that experience was discovering feelings evolving in such a way somehow become independent from the physical. It's THIS person under my fingertips and that feeling can overpower the actual sensory input.
I've unfortunately come to the conclusion that if I don't want that moment of dissidence between the intangible chemistry and reaction to the physical reality, then I have to wait until I know I will be touching someone for whom I have strong feelings.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Flavors of Desperation
Saturday I joined a gathering of people with chronic illnesses. While not my first time doing so, the group has only met thrice – I am a novice when it comes to such situations. Historically I tend to do badly when I attempt to join a group based on one of my identities: The blind people don't get the sick people, the sick people don't get the blind people, and the bisexuals understand nobody and are understood by nobody. Let's not even throw facial differences into the mix. The proposed topic of how your illness positively impacted your life journey seemed to fit my overall philosophy, so I went.
Desperation. That room was full of desperation. People were so focused on getting better that they weren't remembering to live in the interim. From my perspective, I wasn't the healthiest person in that room, but I was probably the happiest with my current life.
It's not that I have some magical ability or special power that keeps me happy in the face of the complexities of illness. I think it's that somewhere along the way, long before chronic illness was a part of my reality, I stopped totally listening to what the world was teaching. A partial education in how people "should be," the benchmarks of success, what's appropriate, and what you need to be happy has actually been a benefit when it comes to living a reality outside the norm.
Even I struggle with issues of success, happiness, and feeling like a valuable member of the human race. I just have distance allowing me to see that what makes me feel bad is not within myself but coming from the larger world. Knowing that makes it not just easier to dismiss, but less miserable to feel.
By the end of Saturday's meeting, my contentment was shattered. Something about watching people dedicated to fixing themselves in order to be happy wore at me. Instead of also wishing for health, I became despondent over being single because after realizing I was probably the happiest person in the room, it dawned upon me that I was the least likely to find a life partner. Ridiculous, full of self-pity, and some would say patently untrue, but I felt it. Strongly.
Over the past few days, I have come to know this is my weak area. I might not feel broken, I may not need health to find happiness, and I feel no need to fit any traditional roles, but I am firmly and unwaveringly convinced my chances of finding a life partner are lower than the average person. Moreover, lower far too often translates into not going to happen. Friends have tried to use logic and reason, pep talks, contradicting examples, and every other method under the sun to get me to see it otherwise, but I'm stuck. Totally stuck. I'm so stuck that I'm starting to annoy even myself.
I did have one useful realization: If I think it's most likely that I'll partner with a man, then maybe I should hang around heterosexuals more and queer folk less. At the moment, I'm eating, breathing and dreaming bisexuality as I put together a panel workshop. Perhaps my next endeavor should be more heterosexual. Then again, of my last three crushes, two came from the bi community, so maybe the focus should be on men who actually date women. Anyone know where to find those? So far they haven't created a guide dog command, "Find a man."
Desperation. That room was full of desperation. People were so focused on getting better that they weren't remembering to live in the interim. From my perspective, I wasn't the healthiest person in that room, but I was probably the happiest with my current life.
It's not that I have some magical ability or special power that keeps me happy in the face of the complexities of illness. I think it's that somewhere along the way, long before chronic illness was a part of my reality, I stopped totally listening to what the world was teaching. A partial education in how people "should be," the benchmarks of success, what's appropriate, and what you need to be happy has actually been a benefit when it comes to living a reality outside the norm.
Even I struggle with issues of success, happiness, and feeling like a valuable member of the human race. I just have distance allowing me to see that what makes me feel bad is not within myself but coming from the larger world. Knowing that makes it not just easier to dismiss, but less miserable to feel.
By the end of Saturday's meeting, my contentment was shattered. Something about watching people dedicated to fixing themselves in order to be happy wore at me. Instead of also wishing for health, I became despondent over being single because after realizing I was probably the happiest person in the room, it dawned upon me that I was the least likely to find a life partner. Ridiculous, full of self-pity, and some would say patently untrue, but I felt it. Strongly.
Over the past few days, I have come to know this is my weak area. I might not feel broken, I may not need health to find happiness, and I feel no need to fit any traditional roles, but I am firmly and unwaveringly convinced my chances of finding a life partner are lower than the average person. Moreover, lower far too often translates into not going to happen. Friends have tried to use logic and reason, pep talks, contradicting examples, and every other method under the sun to get me to see it otherwise, but I'm stuck. Totally stuck. I'm so stuck that I'm starting to annoy even myself.
I did have one useful realization: If I think it's most likely that I'll partner with a man, then maybe I should hang around heterosexuals more and queer folk less. At the moment, I'm eating, breathing and dreaming bisexuality as I put together a panel workshop. Perhaps my next endeavor should be more heterosexual. Then again, of my last three crushes, two came from the bi community, so maybe the focus should be on men who actually date women. Anyone know where to find those? So far they haven't created a guide dog command, "Find a man."
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Where Law Cannot Tred
In any civil rights movement, political activism has a key role. Same sex marriage is only one example of political activism utilized to change laws that will directly benefit individuals. Without political pressure, the American's with Disabilities Act would not have become law, but as so many pointed out on its twentieth anniversary, progress hasn't met expectations. The position people with disabilities inhabit in our society still reflects a second class citizenship where we are not full participants in the greater world. Why?
Disability, as a marginalized group status, is unique for a physical difference and/or "inability" is readily identifiable. In the nineteenth century, we saw how a tangible bodily variation effected societal status. Phrenology – the practice of determining traits such as intelligence based on the size and shape of the human skull – was used to rationalize the oppression of blacks. Today, those physical differences amongst the various races are considered irrelevant. On the other hand, disability is commonly defined as an inability to function in two or more major life areas such as school, work, mobility, and socially. Thus, group membership provides All that is necessary to justify our second class citizenship.
If my status was entirely based upon and solely limited to the fact that I cannot see, I might be willing to accept my position, but this is not the case. Take a moment to really consider this. How, after all, is my intelligence or competency in question simply because I cannot see? A person with a cognitive disability might be limited in terms of intellectual goals. Jobs requiring manual dexterity or physical strength are still legitimate options, yet an entire system of social services agencies exist just to convince employers to hire people with such conditions. What I cannot do has little in common with the beliefs that characterize my social status.
Society takes the inability – a fact – and adds what it perceives to be the implications of that truth. These perceived implications are based on fear, ignorance, and even well-intentioned compassion. Sometimes, as with blindness, it's inaccurate conclusions such as sight is necessary to bake. Other times it's more subconscious, such as fear shaping conclusions. The discomfort felt around a person with Down's Syndrome minimizes a desire for contact and the assumption that the individual has nothing meaningful to contribute because of their intelligence is an easy excuse. Even compassion leads down an erroneous road for often Deaf people are thought not to enjoy music and left out of invitations to go clubbing. (FYI, the base in of loud music can be felt.)
This crucial element of implication in the chain from difference to discrimination cannot be attacked with laws. It is embedded in the minds and hearts of people, perpetuated by what we teach our children, and magnified by a rigid societal structure. (Rather than embracing the idea of ramps, people are physically barred from public spaces, then devalued because they cannot access the places necessary to, say, perform a job. If disabled people are to be freed of their second class citizenship, hearts and minds will need to change.
Consider two pieces earlier published in this blog. You Can't Play gave a list of ways people like me are relegated to a lesser position and very few can be fixed by legislative act. Is There Disablism in Dating? argues that attitudes about disability subtly shape partner preferences. Is Congress going to pass a law that requires people to find me appealing as potential mate?
On the other hand, if we can alter the implication portion of the equation, it will ease the way for legislation or make it less necessary. After all, a law is only needed when people aren't going to do the right thing on their own.
Does this mean I think political activism is pointless? No way. I do believe that shifting how people conceive of disability deserves more effort and attention. WE need spokespeople that immediately pop into American's minds when they think about disability. How many of you know who Judy Heuman is? Justin Dart? Steven Drake? I'm certain Ellen Degeneres and Jesse Jackson are both known to you. Can you even think of someone with a disability who is in the public eye changing how society perceives physical difference?
With this blog, I try to be one of those people, but first someone must stumble upon it. Many disabled folks are doing the exact same thing – using the web to educate. Sooner rather than later, I believe we will reach some critical mass and a few articulate disabled people will emerge from the cyber world into real life. Making use of all the lessons I've had about "positive language" and manifesting what you desire in your life, I'm jus going to put out there that I will be one of those people.
Disability, as a marginalized group status, is unique for a physical difference and/or "inability" is readily identifiable. In the nineteenth century, we saw how a tangible bodily variation effected societal status. Phrenology – the practice of determining traits such as intelligence based on the size and shape of the human skull – was used to rationalize the oppression of blacks. Today, those physical differences amongst the various races are considered irrelevant. On the other hand, disability is commonly defined as an inability to function in two or more major life areas such as school, work, mobility, and socially. Thus, group membership provides All that is necessary to justify our second class citizenship.
If my status was entirely based upon and solely limited to the fact that I cannot see, I might be willing to accept my position, but this is not the case. Take a moment to really consider this. How, after all, is my intelligence or competency in question simply because I cannot see? A person with a cognitive disability might be limited in terms of intellectual goals. Jobs requiring manual dexterity or physical strength are still legitimate options, yet an entire system of social services agencies exist just to convince employers to hire people with such conditions. What I cannot do has little in common with the beliefs that characterize my social status.
Society takes the inability – a fact – and adds what it perceives to be the implications of that truth. These perceived implications are based on fear, ignorance, and even well-intentioned compassion. Sometimes, as with blindness, it's inaccurate conclusions such as sight is necessary to bake. Other times it's more subconscious, such as fear shaping conclusions. The discomfort felt around a person with Down's Syndrome minimizes a desire for contact and the assumption that the individual has nothing meaningful to contribute because of their intelligence is an easy excuse. Even compassion leads down an erroneous road for often Deaf people are thought not to enjoy music and left out of invitations to go clubbing. (FYI, the base in of loud music can be felt.)
This crucial element of implication in the chain from difference to discrimination cannot be attacked with laws. It is embedded in the minds and hearts of people, perpetuated by what we teach our children, and magnified by a rigid societal structure. (Rather than embracing the idea of ramps, people are physically barred from public spaces, then devalued because they cannot access the places necessary to, say, perform a job. If disabled people are to be freed of their second class citizenship, hearts and minds will need to change.
Consider two pieces earlier published in this blog. You Can't Play gave a list of ways people like me are relegated to a lesser position and very few can be fixed by legislative act. Is There Disablism in Dating? argues that attitudes about disability subtly shape partner preferences. Is Congress going to pass a law that requires people to find me appealing as potential mate?
On the other hand, if we can alter the implication portion of the equation, it will ease the way for legislation or make it less necessary. After all, a law is only needed when people aren't going to do the right thing on their own.
Does this mean I think political activism is pointless? No way. I do believe that shifting how people conceive of disability deserves more effort and attention. WE need spokespeople that immediately pop into American's minds when they think about disability. How many of you know who Judy Heuman is? Justin Dart? Steven Drake? I'm certain Ellen Degeneres and Jesse Jackson are both known to you. Can you even think of someone with a disability who is in the public eye changing how society perceives physical difference?
With this blog, I try to be one of those people, but first someone must stumble upon it. Many disabled folks are doing the exact same thing – using the web to educate. Sooner rather than later, I believe we will reach some critical mass and a few articulate disabled people will emerge from the cyber world into real life. Making use of all the lessons I've had about "positive language" and manifesting what you desire in your life, I'm jus going to put out there that I will be one of those people.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Now and Then
I have been poking around in this blog reading old entries and came across Multiply Chronic Illness by the Power of Two. Several realizations struck me simultaneously.
Last year, I was terrified that something would transform my current health status into a creature far harder to handle. What I had achieved felt as fragile as spun glass. Looking back on 2010, I have experienced so many health-related attacks on my body that I actually lost count, yet I'm still here and have bounced back. Was 2010 all about me learning that my health isn't as tenuous as I fear? Do I have more physical resilience than I realized?
Somehow though this year has embodied medical insanity, I look back and have an impression not of spending days and days on my couch, but of spending finite periods. While my health might have loomed large and felt overwhelmingly out of control, it has only been a part of my life not my entire life. Perhaps the vast amount of it caused me to stop focusing on it in order to not lose my mind. Maybe in crisis I found a new way to be happy. I'm still not certain, but I am not objecting.
Besides a sense of physical resilience, I have recently been surprised – dare I say amazed – by my emotional elasticity. Long about August of this year, I had taken a few too many emotional blows and was just trying to not fall apart. Then I had to put my dog to sleep and totally lost it. I went beyond numb to a state I can best describe as utterly empty. Things did get better, but I didn't reflect upon it until mid September when I suddenly realized I felt like myself. I'd recovered faster and more completely than I thought possible for anyone let alone myself.
Perhaps because I feel more physically resilient, maybe because I have a sense of emotional strength, or possibly because I'm happier, I am not nearly as terrified to share my life with another person. Yes, there are definite challenges, but several of my concerns no longer ring true. For example, I have more going on in my life than books and crafts. Last week alone I left my house seven times exclusively to be social. No longer do I worry about being duller than burlap. Now it's more like tarnished metal.
Another shift has crept up slowly. Now I am able to predict my health status making a marked difference in how I approach life. Planning for future activities happens without having to think, "Will I be healthy enough?" A future filled with more than my couch and cotton candy entertainment seems likely.
Even this blog has made a difference. When asked what I do, I say, "Write a blog about disability stuff," and it feels like enough. I contribute to the world in a way that matters, at least to me.
Some things are still the same, such as how I address the issue with someone. Do I let them see the entire reality immediately or gradually? Who would sign up for this? Would I be able to stomach allowing someone I cared for to join this insanity?
Relationships are hard and they fail often with far less in the way of built-in stressors. Can I really hope to have one that lasts a lifetime? Maybe. Just maybe. That's a different answer than I would have given even six months ago.
Last year, I was terrified that something would transform my current health status into a creature far harder to handle. What I had achieved felt as fragile as spun glass. Looking back on 2010, I have experienced so many health-related attacks on my body that I actually lost count, yet I'm still here and have bounced back. Was 2010 all about me learning that my health isn't as tenuous as I fear? Do I have more physical resilience than I realized?
Somehow though this year has embodied medical insanity, I look back and have an impression not of spending days and days on my couch, but of spending finite periods. While my health might have loomed large and felt overwhelmingly out of control, it has only been a part of my life not my entire life. Perhaps the vast amount of it caused me to stop focusing on it in order to not lose my mind. Maybe in crisis I found a new way to be happy. I'm still not certain, but I am not objecting.
Besides a sense of physical resilience, I have recently been surprised – dare I say amazed – by my emotional elasticity. Long about August of this year, I had taken a few too many emotional blows and was just trying to not fall apart. Then I had to put my dog to sleep and totally lost it. I went beyond numb to a state I can best describe as utterly empty. Things did get better, but I didn't reflect upon it until mid September when I suddenly realized I felt like myself. I'd recovered faster and more completely than I thought possible for anyone let alone myself.
Perhaps because I feel more physically resilient, maybe because I have a sense of emotional strength, or possibly because I'm happier, I am not nearly as terrified to share my life with another person. Yes, there are definite challenges, but several of my concerns no longer ring true. For example, I have more going on in my life than books and crafts. Last week alone I left my house seven times exclusively to be social. No longer do I worry about being duller than burlap. Now it's more like tarnished metal.
Another shift has crept up slowly. Now I am able to predict my health status making a marked difference in how I approach life. Planning for future activities happens without having to think, "Will I be healthy enough?" A future filled with more than my couch and cotton candy entertainment seems likely.
Even this blog has made a difference. When asked what I do, I say, "Write a blog about disability stuff," and it feels like enough. I contribute to the world in a way that matters, at least to me.
Some things are still the same, such as how I address the issue with someone. Do I let them see the entire reality immediately or gradually? Who would sign up for this? Would I be able to stomach allowing someone I cared for to join this insanity?
Relationships are hard and they fail often with far less in the way of built-in stressors. Can I really hope to have one that lasts a lifetime? Maybe. Just maybe. That's a different answer than I would have given even six months ago.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Becoming Invisible
Sometimes I feel invisible as if I could walk through a room of people naked and nobody would notice. On my part, it's neither intentional nor is its timing under my control. I have also not dawned Harry Potter's cloak of invisibility. Suddenly, without even a puff of smoke, I'm gone.
Because I cannot see people's eyes, I cannot say whether they skim past me, look through me, or simply never turn in my direction. Reading the minds of those around me to truly know what thoughts they entertain is also beyond my abilities. I can say with some authority that people behave as though I am not there. And while I might be small, I'm not microscopic.
The other night I went to a concert with two women I know well. A good friend of one of them met up with us. When we met, he shook my hand and was told my name which my friends used throughout the evening. He giggled with the other total stranger in my female trio. As he had with the other women, he hugged me goodbye. At one point, he made a comment -- "They're talking about people we don't even know." -- that might have been directed at me. I attempted to engage him in small talk twice. While he politely answered my questions, there was absolutely no effort made to further the conversation.
It took me a while to realize it, but for him I didn't really exist except perhaps in relation to the other women. Had he not shaken my hand or hugged me goodbye, he would have been judged rude by my companions. Ditto with my direct remarks to him. His one comment possibly directed at me served the purpose of reinserting himself into the conversation. Otherwise, I was not present.
Here's the thing that seems so contradictory: he is a genuinely nice person. My friend has known him for over ten years and she doesn't spend time and energy on mean people. Even I could tell he was a good person simply by the way he handled himself and the way he spoke. Yet somehow I vanished. Into thin air. For most of the night.
Melissa Etheridge has a line in "Nowhere to Go" that summarizes my theory on all this. "And they don't understand what they don't see/And they look through you and they look past me." In other words, this otherwise nice man couldn't wrap his mind around my existence, so he disappeared me and because I was disappeared, he would never understand me.
Maybe I was showing too many scars. I had on a spaghetti-strap dress, so you could see several, one pretty huge. Maybe I finally met the one person put off by me wearing dark glasses. (A habit I will gladly stop as soon as I know my lack of a right eye won't gross anyone out.) Maybe he didn't think we had anything in common. Maybe he'd never met a blind person. Maybe I had bad breath or smelled.
Honestly, I don't even need to know the why of it. My interest lies in how this particular tendency contributes to those things that make me most frustrated, namely social isolation, trouble making friends, and lack of dates. With my actions, I can force people to notice me. Plaguing this man all night with questions would have done the job, but that is so not my style. I refuse to become obnoxious in order to compensate for another's lacks.
Yet I still involuntarily disappear into thin air. If I could only do it at will, I'd have a far more interesting life with a large bank account.
Because I cannot see people's eyes, I cannot say whether they skim past me, look through me, or simply never turn in my direction. Reading the minds of those around me to truly know what thoughts they entertain is also beyond my abilities. I can say with some authority that people behave as though I am not there. And while I might be small, I'm not microscopic.
The other night I went to a concert with two women I know well. A good friend of one of them met up with us. When we met, he shook my hand and was told my name which my friends used throughout the evening. He giggled with the other total stranger in my female trio. As he had with the other women, he hugged me goodbye. At one point, he made a comment -- "They're talking about people we don't even know." -- that might have been directed at me. I attempted to engage him in small talk twice. While he politely answered my questions, there was absolutely no effort made to further the conversation.
It took me a while to realize it, but for him I didn't really exist except perhaps in relation to the other women. Had he not shaken my hand or hugged me goodbye, he would have been judged rude by my companions. Ditto with my direct remarks to him. His one comment possibly directed at me served the purpose of reinserting himself into the conversation. Otherwise, I was not present.
Here's the thing that seems so contradictory: he is a genuinely nice person. My friend has known him for over ten years and she doesn't spend time and energy on mean people. Even I could tell he was a good person simply by the way he handled himself and the way he spoke. Yet somehow I vanished. Into thin air. For most of the night.
Melissa Etheridge has a line in "Nowhere to Go" that summarizes my theory on all this. "And they don't understand what they don't see/And they look through you and they look past me." In other words, this otherwise nice man couldn't wrap his mind around my existence, so he disappeared me and because I was disappeared, he would never understand me.
Maybe I was showing too many scars. I had on a spaghetti-strap dress, so you could see several, one pretty huge. Maybe I finally met the one person put off by me wearing dark glasses. (A habit I will gladly stop as soon as I know my lack of a right eye won't gross anyone out.) Maybe he didn't think we had anything in common. Maybe he'd never met a blind person. Maybe I had bad breath or smelled.
Honestly, I don't even need to know the why of it. My interest lies in how this particular tendency contributes to those things that make me most frustrated, namely social isolation, trouble making friends, and lack of dates. With my actions, I can force people to notice me. Plaguing this man all night with questions would have done the job, but that is so not my style. I refuse to become obnoxious in order to compensate for another's lacks.
Yet I still involuntarily disappear into thin air. If I could only do it at will, I'd have a far more interesting life with a large bank account.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Rest of the Story
Writing Is There Disablism in Dating? was an exercise in theory and reason, but it stirred up my feelings. At the time, I knew this other part of the story needed to be told, but tried avoiding it. Guess it's time to stop.
Whenever I think about dating, my emotions are intense and attempts to find resolution fruitless. I wind up traveling deep mental ruts that go something like this:
I notice a couple happy in their coupledom and have just enough dating and relationship experience to know with total certainty that I'd be joyful as well. A moment of longing is followed by a mental sigh. I understand the reality of the world I inhabit and know I'm statistically far less likely than the average Jane to find my Wonderful Person. It hurts in a way I cannot explain to know that something which would bring me great joy is unlikely. Very unlikely.
My inner problem solver steps up to the plate. What are the obstacles? Well, most people my age are already in relationships. Can't change that. People don't seem to be into me. Am I doing something wrong? Not really. So why no interest from anybody? Nobody can see the attractiveness for the disability.
Because of the socially perpetuated myths and misconceptions of disability, I will be deprived of something I want. Whether the desire exists because of conditioning or biology, it is present within me. Why do I have to live in a world that makes getting it so hard?
I am left with a problem I cannot solve and a tangle of sorrow and anger. It is an all too familiar place. No matter the detours I contrive or potential solutions I employ, always here.
Even the seemingly innocent takes on frustrating proportions. Whenever somebody tells me I'm amazing, I think two things: "If I'm so amazing, why am I single?" and "Your low expectations of me are exactly why I won't get what I want. It gives an experience I've always found unpleasant stronger teeth.
One of the ways I compensate for the lack of a life partner is to develop friendships with a degree of intimacy beyond what is typical. In this way, I at least have some of my needs met. Unfortunately, whenever such a friend finds their own significant other they rightly forge that connection with their love interest. Happy as I am for my friend, I do feel the loss.
I also try to meet my romantic needs with little mind tricks. Whenever I encounter someone who tweaks my romantic curiosity, my inner voice launches its offensive. "Jen, there's probably an other half or you're not their type. Besides, dating generates drama by the boat load. You don't need the stress. It's bad for your immune system." With such words I try to shunt the person into the category of unattainable crush. They can take the central role in daydreams and fantasies because, at least in theory, I don't attach hope to any of it. I can enjoy the fun energy of a crush without getting hurt. Theoretically.
Yet at the end of the day, I am left by myself and wanting it to be otherwise. There is a kind of sorrow knowing I have no real control over the situation. There is an anger in knowing others have a far greater influence over my destiny in this regard. You can't make somebody love you. You can't make somebody find you desirable You can just live your life and hope you beat the odds. It's not enough to truly comfort. It's not enough to fill the person-shaped space in your life.
Whenever I think about dating, my emotions are intense and attempts to find resolution fruitless. I wind up traveling deep mental ruts that go something like this:
I notice a couple happy in their coupledom and have just enough dating and relationship experience to know with total certainty that I'd be joyful as well. A moment of longing is followed by a mental sigh. I understand the reality of the world I inhabit and know I'm statistically far less likely than the average Jane to find my Wonderful Person. It hurts in a way I cannot explain to know that something which would bring me great joy is unlikely. Very unlikely.
My inner problem solver steps up to the plate. What are the obstacles? Well, most people my age are already in relationships. Can't change that. People don't seem to be into me. Am I doing something wrong? Not really. So why no interest from anybody? Nobody can see the attractiveness for the disability.
Because of the socially perpetuated myths and misconceptions of disability, I will be deprived of something I want. Whether the desire exists because of conditioning or biology, it is present within me. Why do I have to live in a world that makes getting it so hard?
I am left with a problem I cannot solve and a tangle of sorrow and anger. It is an all too familiar place. No matter the detours I contrive or potential solutions I employ, always here.
Even the seemingly innocent takes on frustrating proportions. Whenever somebody tells me I'm amazing, I think two things: "If I'm so amazing, why am I single?" and "Your low expectations of me are exactly why I won't get what I want. It gives an experience I've always found unpleasant stronger teeth.
One of the ways I compensate for the lack of a life partner is to develop friendships with a degree of intimacy beyond what is typical. In this way, I at least have some of my needs met. Unfortunately, whenever such a friend finds their own significant other they rightly forge that connection with their love interest. Happy as I am for my friend, I do feel the loss.
I also try to meet my romantic needs with little mind tricks. Whenever I encounter someone who tweaks my romantic curiosity, my inner voice launches its offensive. "Jen, there's probably an other half or you're not their type. Besides, dating generates drama by the boat load. You don't need the stress. It's bad for your immune system." With such words I try to shunt the person into the category of unattainable crush. They can take the central role in daydreams and fantasies because, at least in theory, I don't attach hope to any of it. I can enjoy the fun energy of a crush without getting hurt. Theoretically.
Yet at the end of the day, I am left by myself and wanting it to be otherwise. There is a kind of sorrow knowing I have no real control over the situation. There is an anger in knowing others have a far greater influence over my destiny in this regard. You can't make somebody love you. You can't make somebody find you desirable You can just live your life and hope you beat the odds. It's not enough to truly comfort. It's not enough to fill the person-shaped space in your life.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Is There Disablism in Dating?
Some women like to date effeminate men, other females are attracted to butch women, and everyone knows about tall males who gravitate toward tiny women. Preferences based on hair color, body shape, and personality type are the nuts and bolts of individual attraction and romantic partnering. Can anything based on such subjectivity involve discrimination? Do societal beliefs about disability impact the most personal of choices? Based on my personal experience, definitely.
My evidence comes in the form of the commonalities shared by all those I have known to be attracted to me throughout my lifetime. In each instance, the individual had reached maturity without acquiring all the beliefs mainstream society attempts to instill in us. Details illustrate my point best: the first two were both blind, the next string were all raised by single mothers who tended toward the unconventional, a few were raised in an atmosphere of abuse or mental illness, a couple didn't fit into accepted standards of beauty, and several had learned to reject societal beliefs as they worked through their own sexual identity issues. Male or female, each lacked the subconscious tendency to place me in the same 'don't date' category occupied by their siblings, parents, cousins, and anyone of a gender they do not find desirable.
There is no simple phrase to describe this propensity, but as they say "I know it when I see it." It isn't that these individuals missed the class about how one should view disabled people for a majority of them had other disablist attitudes when we first met. Neither did they consciously decide to see those with disabilities as potential dates. Something in the way they were socialized made their subconscious consider me in a different way.
There are a few ways this lack of acculturation manifests itself. Most people lump someone like me into the same category as small children and little old ladies -- those for whom sexual attraction is not even considered. This is not the case for those possessing the Unnamable Trait.
Such people have also avoided internalizing societal standards of beauty as their criteria to judge attraction. In this way, my scars, asymmetrical face, and odd eyes are not necessarily detractors from my other charms.
A person must also be missing another piece of socialization that relates to seeing me as a potential date or mate. Society seems to believe that I will be dependent on any future partner in a way that is both onerous and unfair. I am a black hole of neediness with no valuable contributions of my own. Anyone who would consider me in a romantic role must either not have this perception of disability or not care in the first place.
Because the application of all these standards and beliefs happens in the cobwebby back of our minds that our consciousness does not monitor, I am out of the category of datable before the individual even considers the issue. It is not a deliberate decision which makes it the most insidious and destructive kind of discrimination.
Over the years, I have been told that not dating a disabled person is a matter of personal preference which supposedly removes any blame from the equation for nobody can reasonably argue individual tastes should be this or that. To me, it is a more fundamental issue about what we are taught to like and want. the demarcation between personal preference and socially instilled standard is more an vague concept than concrete juncture, but that does not negate the existence of the distinction.
Don't find my curly hair and small frame attractive? Fine by me. Don't even consider me as a person to date? That's a problem with its routes firmly embedded in disablism.
For my emotional reaction to this reality, read Rest of the Story.
This entry was written for Blogging Against Disablism Day May 1st 2010
My evidence comes in the form of the commonalities shared by all those I have known to be attracted to me throughout my lifetime. In each instance, the individual had reached maturity without acquiring all the beliefs mainstream society attempts to instill in us. Details illustrate my point best: the first two were both blind, the next string were all raised by single mothers who tended toward the unconventional, a few were raised in an atmosphere of abuse or mental illness, a couple didn't fit into accepted standards of beauty, and several had learned to reject societal beliefs as they worked through their own sexual identity issues. Male or female, each lacked the subconscious tendency to place me in the same 'don't date' category occupied by their siblings, parents, cousins, and anyone of a gender they do not find desirable.
There is no simple phrase to describe this propensity, but as they say "I know it when I see it." It isn't that these individuals missed the class about how one should view disabled people for a majority of them had other disablist attitudes when we first met. Neither did they consciously decide to see those with disabilities as potential dates. Something in the way they were socialized made their subconscious consider me in a different way.
There are a few ways this lack of acculturation manifests itself. Most people lump someone like me into the same category as small children and little old ladies -- those for whom sexual attraction is not even considered. This is not the case for those possessing the Unnamable Trait.
Such people have also avoided internalizing societal standards of beauty as their criteria to judge attraction. In this way, my scars, asymmetrical face, and odd eyes are not necessarily detractors from my other charms.
A person must also be missing another piece of socialization that relates to seeing me as a potential date or mate. Society seems to believe that I will be dependent on any future partner in a way that is both onerous and unfair. I am a black hole of neediness with no valuable contributions of my own. Anyone who would consider me in a romantic role must either not have this perception of disability or not care in the first place.
Because the application of all these standards and beliefs happens in the cobwebby back of our minds that our consciousness does not monitor, I am out of the category of datable before the individual even considers the issue. It is not a deliberate decision which makes it the most insidious and destructive kind of discrimination.
Over the years, I have been told that not dating a disabled person is a matter of personal preference which supposedly removes any blame from the equation for nobody can reasonably argue individual tastes should be this or that. To me, it is a more fundamental issue about what we are taught to like and want. the demarcation between personal preference and socially instilled standard is more an vague concept than concrete juncture, but that does not negate the existence of the distinction.
Don't find my curly hair and small frame attractive? Fine by me. Don't even consider me as a person to date? That's a problem with its routes firmly embedded in disablism.
For my emotional reaction to this reality, read Rest of the Story.
This entry was written for Blogging Against Disablism Day May 1st 2010
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