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April 14, 2010 Wednesday 30 Nisan 5770 12:44 IST
Photo by: MCT
Embrace the fear of sounding like an idiot
By ARIELLA BARKER
13/04/2010
When you ask dumb questions about my disability – if my wheelchair has snow
tires, if you can take a ride – you just look ignorant.
On the afternoon of the last day of Pessah, I was sitting with friends in
the sun, relaxing after eating my second lunch and working on a religious
farmer’s tan, when I asked what the time was. The typical response to this
question, I’m quite sure, is a recitation of the time or a simple “I don’t
know.” But, of course, the answer I received was, “What? You don’t have a
clock built into that thing?”
Um, last time I checked, my wheelchair was not a time machine.
Everyone has his own defects, disabilities and/or imperfections, which,
naturally, materializes in a person’s insecurities. For some, it is their
weight. For others, it is an unusual facial feature. For me, it is the
inability to walk.
As the afternoon progressed, the questions persisted, including the common
questions of whether I have turbo speed or snow tires, and it made me wonder
why is it acceptable for people to interrogate me, but it would never be
appropriate to ask someone else about their imperfections?
Imagine asking someone with a gigantic rear end at a meal: “Have you ever
considered using your behind as a shelf, that way you can bring more items
to the table at a time?” or “Do you ever notice that your backside makes you
sit higher than the average person?”
Or what if someone asked one of your guests with an abnormally large nose
whether he has a heightened sense of smell? Or what if they asked a woman
with a fat tummy if she is mistaken for being pregnant?
THESE ARE just a few of the questions I am inclined to ask in response to
the unnerving queries I receive.
Alas, the southerner in me bubbles up, and I politely respond with, “No.
Oddly enough, the chair did not come equipped with a fuel-powered jet
engine,” while I think or mutter under my breath some appropriate insult.
(As a side note, southern hospitality is simply the act of feigning
interest, caring or niceties. The phrase “ya’ll come back now, ya hear?” can
often mean: “What weirdos. Please don’t ever come back.”)
As I bite my tongue, maintain my composure and remain civil, I regrettably
think to myself: “I really thought these questions would end once I made
aliya.”
So, that afternoon, after what seemed like the millionth question, I
responded with: “Why is it that people feel the need to ask me these
questions?”
The one who found it shocking that my chair did not have a built-in
time-keeping mechanism responded: “Wouldn’t you prefer for people to ask
than to be afraid?”
The word “afraid” caught my attention. Are they afraid of me, or are they
afraid that I may not have snow tires, a built-in clock, turbo speed, turn
signals, head lights, an eject button or a stereo system, or are they afraid
to simply ask ridiculous questions? If they are afraid to ask the questions,
then, I say, they should be! The fear of embarrassing someone or sounding
like an idiot is a well-founded fear, and one should embrace it. If they are
afraid that my chair doesn’t come with options that could be featured in an
episode of The Jetsons, I’m okay with that.
However, I think what she meant to say was that such inquisitive people are
“afraid” of me. They aren’t afraid because I might beat them in a street
fight, because I can’t kick. And they aren’t afraid of me because I am mean,
hostile or intimidating (or at least I hope not). Rather, they are afraid of
their own ignorance about people with disabilities and are, thus,
uncomfortable. Unfortunately for me, their discomfort is manifested by jokes
and questions to break the ice and make conversation, which only draws
attention to my disability – my insecurity.
While it is admirable to be afraid of ignorance rather than to accept it,
the fear of ignorance can only be remedied by education. Get to know someone
with a disability. Learn more than the maximum speed of their chair. Learn
that they are independent, intelligent, funny or just plain superficial and
obnoxious, that we, too, are just humans with imperfections – only ours are
visible to the world.
IN THE meantime, in the spirit of education and in hopes of answering all
your ridiculous questions, here are the answers:
• It goes four miles per hour. Or, as my mom once answered, “Not fast enough
to get away from people like you who ask that question.”
• No, it does not have snow tires, chains or any kind of snowmobile-type
functions. I live in the Middle East, not Antarctica.
• No, it does not have an eject button. However, I often wish it had one of
those pop-up boxing gloves to punch people like you in the face.
• No, you may not take a ride. I am not public transportation, and frankly,
you will crush me.
• No, there is not an option for seat warmers, because it would, too
quickly, drain the battery.
• No, I do not want to “soop” it up with rims, a subwoofer, hydraulics or
any kind of bling.
• No, it does not have turn signals, headlights or anything resembling a
car. It’s a wheelchair, not an Escalade.
• No, it does not climb stairs. It is not a tank.
• Yes, I can have children (which answers the related, commonly asked
question – Can you have sex?).
• No, I do not have a caretaker. So, stop looking around for the Filipino or
Indian. This isn’t a game of “Where’s Waldo.”
• No, I cannot walk at all. Turns out I am not just lazy.
• No, I don’t feel lucky that I don’t have to walk everywhere, that I was
exempt from physical education class or that I don’t have to go to the gym.
You should feel pretty stupid for asking that though.
• “The blind leading the blind” is a saying for a reason. Stop trying to set
me up with men with disabilities. It doesn’t work.
• No, I don’t go off-roading. I am not a 12-year-old boy.
• No, I’m not dying. I’m just pale! (My mom made me start wearing blush at
the age of 11 in hopes of avoiding that question.)
• No, I am not also mentally retarded. (The public school system made me
submit to an IQ test every year due to my physical disability. The best was
when they pulled me out of my calculus class to ask me simple addition
questions.)
• My name is Ariella, not “the chair.”
• No, I’m not going to run you over. Unless you’re one of those annoying
small dogs or it’s an act of self-defense, typically taken upon my little
sister.
The writer made aliya in 2008 and is a Jerusalem-based attorney.
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