2:23am May 24, 2014

➸ Tangled In the Invisibility Cloak: Presentation for the Queer Disability 2002 conference, June 2002.

youneedacat:

But although there are a variety of definitions of “disability” floating around out there, I am aware of none in which a wheelchair is a disability. A wheelchair is a tool. But the reason people think Jane has a visible disability is that she has a visible wheelchair. In fact the identification of visible tool with visible disability is so strong that I suspect that every night when Jane gets into bed her disability magically becomes invisible.

Unfortunately, I have not yet convinced a single wheelchair user to let me bring research subjects into their bedroom at night to test my hypothesis.
I don’t believe that there is any such thing as invisible disability. For that matter, I don’t believe in visible disability, apparent disability, or non-apparent disability.

(Yeah, I can’t believe they let me on this panel either.)

On the other hand I do believe that there is something that is often called “invisible disability”, and I’m struggling to find the right vocabulary to talk about it. This week, I’m calling it “unrecognized disability”. At least “unrecognized”, unlike “non-apparent” or “invisible” or the loathsome “hidden” seems to suggest that seeing or recognizing disability is something that somebody does. Visibility and invisibility are not inherent properties of disability.

Another one by Cal Montgomery on why “invisible disability” doesn’t work, also dealing with queerness. The full article is long but well worth reading.

“In order to participate in most group activities, I need to be able to identify at least some of the other people involved, so the common assumption that visible faces mean giving access to identity often gives rise to a barrier.
There are a number of ways to address that barrier. People can wear nametags. Or they can repeatedly tell me who they are. Or if it’s a small number of familiar people in a clear context, I can use things like voices and accents and ways of moving to make educated guesses — I can usually identify the characters on my favorite TV shows even though any one of the actors could talk to me for an hour and a half without me guessing who it was. Or a special person-recognizer could be hired. Or we could develop a group norm where it’s okay to say, “Now, which one is Jane again?”

But in my experience other people are unlikely to cooperate with any of these measures. Many people don’t like to wear nametags; many people repeatedly forget to identify themselves or decide it’s my responsibility to recognize them; many people don’t like to be asked for help.

So I end up negotiating the removal of the same barriers in the same situations with the same people over and over again — or I fail, or I just give up. The idea that if I negotiate access with you now I shouldn’t need to do it again in half an hour seems ridiculous: we’re talking about invisible barriers, and if a barrier is invisible, how can I expect anyone to learn to see it?”

—- yes, this. over and over the same thing. people are incredibly resistant to learning how to interact with me, and my advice is seen as arrogant and demanding. when the very things i warn them about end up happening, i should’ve prevented them, without requiring anything from anyone else. this is true for hearing and for interaction style.