Yet Another Problem With Disability Representation in Entertainment.

This isn't going to be about Hollywood blowing off disabled actors or reinforcing the inspiration/burden stereotypes. It's about something troubling I realized recently that has kind of crawled into my brain and refused to leave.

Last week I saw an independent film called The Happys and I very excitedly wrote this take on it - The Happys or Holy Crap! Someone Did It Right I was so thrilled to see a disabled character that not only could I relate to but that was written as a human being with strengths and weaknesses. What I did not expect was to discover that others interpreted the story line as unrealistic because it did not follow the usual stereotypes. Here I had hope that characters like this one could educate people about the realities of being disabled while entertaining but it appears to have missed the mark.

I spend a great deal of time reading articles about disability and am reminded daily about just how misunderstood it is to much of the population. This creates problems for us because a lot of the misinformation and misunderstanding leads to hostility toward the disabled community. For example, some wheelchair users are able to stand or walk for short distances. Not understanding this leads to charges of 'faking' and even angry attacks. It gets even more complicated when it comes to invisible disabilities.

I am autistic. I have an autistic child and dozens of autistic friends. We are all very different from one another. There are enough commonalities to establish a basis for diagnosis but we are still individuals with different abilities. How can film makers portray an autistic character 'realistically' to a society that believes we're all either non verbal 5 year old boys or 'Rainman'? "A person with x disability would not be able to do y." We can and we do. I loathe haircuts. I'm 44 years old and I literally sit there fighting the urge to scream. My 6 year old autistic child loves them. She would get a haircut every week if it could be possible.

Saying we're all different is stating the obvious but it still seems to escape the grasp of so many non-disabled folks. On one level it is understandable as it is outside of their realm of experience but at the same time it's troubling because it demonstrates that, at least subconsciously, we are not seen fully as human beings. This affects everything from how strangers treat us on the street to what accommodations businesses are willing to make for us. Maybe if over the next decade every disabled character was portrayed in a realistic manner the rest of the world would begin to get a more accurate picture, but I'm afraid that these rare gems we have now will continue to be misunderstood.

The Happys or Holy Crap! Someone Did It Right!

I want to begin by saying that I have turned the subject over and over in my head and can't find a way to write about this without any spoilers. I will keep plot points as vague as I can while still getting my point across but if you haven't watched it yet and want to avoid anything being spoiled, you should probably skip this post.

*image description - movie poster for The Happys featuring 3 women and 3 men standing in a line.




The plot from their IMDB page - "Twenty-one year old Tracy walks in on her boyfriend Mark having sex with a man and decides to leave him. After assessing her limited options, she returns to Mark with a deal-if he agrees to marry her, she'll forget the incident ever happened. Mark accepts her terms, but neither fully understands the sacrifices they have to make. As their relationship deteriorates, Tracy's world opens up when she befriends the quirky residents in her Los Feliz neighborhood: Sebastian, a troubled recluse who closed the door to society after being bitten by a poisonous spider; Luann, a former child star and true free spirit; Krista, Mark's hard-charging talent manager; Jonathan, a gay magazine reporter; and Ricky, a hot Mexican with a failing food truck. As Tracy discovers her sense of self and true passion for cooking, she is a catalyst that forces them all to grow and connect in unforeseen ways."



I first became familiar with this indie film project because I am a fan of Melissa McBride. I was eager to help with fundraising for that reason alone but when I saw that it was also an LGBT ("Hey! That's me!) film I was even more excited. The project was completed and premiered at the Rhode Island International Film Festival where I was able to see it.

I think it's a fantastic film for many reasons but this isn't going to be that kind of review. It's the character Sebastian and the handling of his 'reclusive' personality that took me by surprise and became the most important to my mind. His story line centers largely around his social disabilities (although just how 'disabled' he is is open for debate depending on whether you subscribe to the social model of disability or the medical model - but that would be a different post entirely).

Without going into great detail and spoiling too much, there came a point in the story where it looked like he was going to be The Disabled Person Who Overcame and Did the Thing. My heart sank. I had been enjoying the film so much and I was afraid it was about to be ruined for me. But it wasn't. He didn't end up Doing the Thing. You know what I'm talking about, right? The soundtrack swells, little Johnny is suddenly able to walk and there's not a dry eye in the house.
*hurk*
We hate that and I am so grateful that it didn't take that predictable turn. We refer to that kind of stuff as 'inspiration porn'. And by 'we' I mean us actually disabled people who work hard trying to dispel this common trope that we exist to be objects of inspiration for the non-disabled if we are to be valued at all. It's not just a matter of it being a little annoying. It is dangerous for us to continue to be seen as objects or less than human. Every year on March 1st we have a Disability Day of Mourning for all those murdered by their caregivers. Most people aren't aware of this. Just a couple of weeks ago Japan had its worst mass killing in decades. 19 stabbed to death and another 25 injured. Where was the trending hashtag? There was none because the victims were all disabled. 'Inspirations' or 'burdens', society rarely sees us as fully human. I want to thank these amazing filmmakers for making Sebastian fully human. The average viewer probably wouldn't even consciously notice but it still matters.


But this is even more personal for me than what I have already discussed. At the time the fundraising campaign was going on I was Sebastian. I had recently become unable to leave my house and the depression that frequently accompanies my losing functioning skills (I'm autistic so losing the ability to function comes with the territory for me) was threatening to take hold so I threw myself into helping with this project as a desperate attempt to make myself feel better. It worked like a charm. I would like to thank these amazing filmmakers for that, too.


For those who know me, my being in a place where I was able to make that trip to see the film could appear to be The Disabled Person Overcoming and Doing the Thing but it's not. There are probably military operations going on around the world right now that required less careful planning than what this trip required for me. It shouldn't be 'inspiring' to do the things that non disabled people take for granted. It just takes us a little more work. I'm still very much autistic. Bottom line is, some days we can Do the Thing and some days we can't. Sebastian couldn't Do the Thing but it didn't detract from his value as a human being. Thank you guys for getting it right.

Milestones

*Image description - lightly tanned woman's arm that has scars and a tattoo that reads 'I'm still here'.

Well, I did it. Yesterday was my birthday and I turned 44. Most people see 30, 40, or 50 as the big milestone birthdays but, for me, 44 is it.

I jokingly told my husband yesterday morning,"Okay, I made it. I can die now."  
No, I don't plan on dying soon but I have now officially outlived my mother. She was 43 when she committed suicide and that's been looming over me (with the help of several craptastic 'professionals' over the years) for a long time.

She's been gone for almost 28 years now and I still don't know if she was consciously trying to kill me. I knew she didn't want me and she came right out and said she would have wanted to abort me if she'd known she was carrying a girl but did she really want to see me die? The only time she ever showed concern for my depression and suicide attempts was when there was someone, usually a therapist or caseworker, whom she wanted to play the 'good mother' for. One thing is for sure, she loved the attention it got her. Poor Barbara With The Crazy Daughter. How haaaaard it was for her. I was 13 before someone had the balls to call her out on her part in it all. 

Her last words to me on the day she died was to call me a 'slut', repeatedly. She just found out that I had been raped the week before (or 'seduced that poor man', as the oh-so-fucking-predictable narrative goes) and had to come right over to see if she could break me the way she always used to be able to. But I wasn't nine years old anymore. Or twelve. I was 16 and had learned that when people enjoy hurting you the best defense was to not give them what they want. I kept my cool and calmly headed out the door for my therapy appointment. By the time I arrived he said she had already called him and told him what she had done. He wouldn't tell me what he said to her but he warned me that she was going to 'pull something dramatic' to try to win over everyone's sympathy because she knew she had gone too far.

Take a bottle of pills, drive straight to the hospital, and everyone will feel so sorry for her that they'll forget what a shit human being she is. That game probably would have worked on most of the family, too, except for a medical condition that caused the drug to hit her system faster than expected. There are some that believe that she killed herself because she was 'depressed' but I saw her that day. She was just an evil woman trying to hurt people and couldn't handle getting called out on it. I think she started out that day believing I would be the one to try and kill myself.

But she's gone and I'm still here. I made it.

Life Isn't All Rainbows and Sunshine

*image description - Pink background with the words 'Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what they have been through. - Sam Cawthorn'


I've been giving a lot of thought to authenticity online lately and my eldest daughter said something today that really struck me. She told me about an article she had read that talked about social media making people feel depressed because their lives didn't resemble the shiny, happy stories they were seeing their friends post. This made me think about my propensity for keeping my posts/tweets on the light side and how that doesn't give the full impression of my life. The thought that someone could compare their life to mine and feel that theirs falls short somehow kinda makes me giggle a little.

The thing is, my life is not just all about me. I will happily discuss my anxiety, sensory issues, and problems with social situations but they are my story. I have a husband and 3 kids who do not necessarily want or need me to share with the world what may be going on inside our walls.

This is especially the case with Evie. There are a gazillion blogs out there where parents complain about how hard their lives are because their kids are autistic. This has created the ableist impression that disabled children are burdens and the parents must magically be saints for loving them. I do not ever want to contribute to that nonsense because that's what it is. I much prefer to post cute or amusing anecdotes that illustrate what an incredible kid she is. We do go through rough patches but I don't talk about them publicly. Not because I want to give people the impression that our life is some 60's sitcom kind of perfect but because she deserves to not have her difficulties broadcast to the world.

The other piece of it is just basic therapy for me. Sometimes the only way I can make it through the day is by finding some grain of positive in the middle of a whole bunch of yuck and focusing on it with all my might. I'm really not a Pollyanna (although I recognize that I may come across that way at times) but I just can't see the point in wallowing when I know that counting my blessings will help elevate my mood. I can't do it all of the time, and sometimes it's much easier than at other times, but I try. 


While I'm sure that some people are putting on a false front for the sake of misleading people into thinking their lives are better than they really are, I know that many of us are being genuine. We're just not posting everything that happens in our lives.

I mean, seriously. Do any of you really need to know that for some reason the big toe on my right foot is suddenly sprouting a full head of hair? WTF is up with that even?

It Seems I Social Media Wrong

*Image description - green and black background with the words 'I cannot build a life worth living by pretending to be someone I'm not'. Image credit - Landon Bryce




Like many (if not most) autistics, I suck at the superficial. Small talk is difficult and I much prefer meaningful conversation. For perhaps the 542,370 time I have had a friend point out that sharing too much online can bring on badness. I know this intellectually but it doesn't seem to have an effect on my approach to online socialization.


I am Heart-on-my-sleeve This-is-what-I'm-thinking Gal and no matter how many times it comes back to bite me in the ass I just can't manage to be any other way. Oh, I'm sure I could with some discipline. I could start posting nothing but quick snapshots of popular interests but that's just not me. If I am going to interact with other people it strikes me as pointless if there's no actual connection.


I don't expect the world to care about what I'm thinking or feeling at that moment or what amusing thing my kid just said or what my favorite song is that day but it's all me. Not everyone will like me and that's totally cool. I don't like everyone and would expect no different. So while I may be doling out ammunition for the less pleasant types to use against me, it allows everyone to see who I am and decide whether I'm someone they want to get to know. I have made some amazing friends online (plus landed me a wonderful husband in the process) so the good has far outweighed the bad.


For me offering up a sanitized image of myself to avoid potential badness from others online would be like never wearing anything considered 'too revealing' to avoid possibly being raped. I'm doing nothing wrong by being myself and it shouldn't be my responsibility to prevent the bad behavior of others. If they want to behave badly they will do so regardless of what I choose to post.


So I will keep on keeping on. Those who like people like me can find me and stick around and those who don't can know to pass me by.

Trying To Be Good

This morning, as I sputtered about one of my conditions making things difficult for me, my husband implied for perhaps the millionth time that he believed my disabilities were actually a blessing. 
"Without them I think you would be arrogant and have less tolerance for people."
 This cracks me up every time because I have been called a 'snob' enough in my life to believe that others see me as arrogant anyway, and tolerant? Ugh. Most of the time I feel like I'm The Most Intolerant Person On the Planet and it feels squicky.

This is because I have been told that my expectations of people are too high, too many times. To be fair, it's usually come from folks who behaved badly and were trying to deflect from their own nonsense but it makes me second guess myself nonetheless.
Don't be mean.
Do be genuine.
Don't be manipulative or play games.
Do be respectful of other people.
Are these expectations really 'too high'? 

People, especially online, violate these expectations pretty regularly. Depending on the situation I may give a few chances but I inevitably end up walking away. Partly because those negative behaviors bother me so much and partly because I believe in the 'birds of a feather' bit. I don't want to associate with folks who exhibit traits that I wouldn't want others believing I possess. I am acutely aware of my propensity for black and white thinking but I also believe that we reinforce bad behavior by letting it slide.

So I distance myself and then I'm The Bad Guy. This creates a kind of perpetual inner conflict because I do try so hard to be good. I hurt for those who are suffering and I try daily to do things that will lift people up, even if it's only for a moment or two. I try to be kind and helpful and make people laugh. Is it wrong that I can't do these things for people who behave badly?

I know I'm not a saint but I try to make the space I take up in this world not suck for those I interact with.
But it can feel pretty crappy with this inner voice constantly whispering,"You're not good enough. If you were a really good person you would tolerate those character flaws" 

Would I feel differently if I wasn't disabled? Would I just think I was better than everyone else and not care about being a good person? I dunno. I can't even imagine what it would be like but maybe that's just because I'm autistic. Ha.

Trusting My Gut

One problem with being an autistic woman is that it can be very difficult to tell when something occurs because you're autistic or because you're a woman or if it's because of both.

'A woman's intuition' is a thing that most, if not all of us have heard of and, yet, we're often written off as 'hysterical' or 'dramatic' when we utilize it. Most of us have an internal alarm system to warn us when we're in danger but a lifetime of hearing that we're just being drama queens can cause us to ignore those alarms which can lead to finding ourselves in bad situations that should have been avoided.

I can't speak for any other woman out there but I know that almost every abusive situation I have found myself in had plenty of red flags pop up that I either ignored or excused away because I second guessed myself and doubted my internal alarm system. I believe on some level abusers know this and count on it. The abuse --> abuser's expressed remorse --> victim's forgiveness cycle just perpetuates it. 
"See? I was wrong. They're a good person. I know because they feel really bad about it."

As an autistic, it is very easy for me to miss malicious intent because I simply can't comprehend it. Oh, I've had it explained to me a million times and I could list off the reasons I've heard given for it but my brain still can't wrap around it. I end up dismissing my inner voice when it tries to speak up on the matter because of this. "Whoa. That was really mean but why would they be mean to me? I must be misunderstanding."

Some people get off on hurting others. Some people get off on control. It's a thing. We know it's a thing and yet we let badness slide because we second guess ourselves. Why do we do this? Especially those of us who have had the unfortunate experience of finding ourselves in these situations more than once? Nothing makes me annoyed with myself faster than the realization that I have made the same mistake more than once. Fortunately most of the people in recent years that I have formed relationships with, whether romantic or platonic in nature, have been with good people. I don't think there are as many bad apples as it can appear sometimes but they sure do a lot of damage when they turn up. 

As an autistic I am pretty good at spotting patterns of behavior but I think I need to streamline my approach to assessing potentially abusive relationships. I don't need to be kicked in the face multiple times to determine that someone is a facekicker. We all have the right to protect ourselves and I'm adopting a 'one strike and you're out' system from this point forward. I am very open and this gives abusers a lot of ammunition. Instead of hiding to protect myself I have decided to continue to be open and simply observe how people respond to my openness. If I mention I'm bi and they respond by telling me what shits bi people are? I know they're unsafe. If I mention I'm autistic and they respond by being condescending or gaslighting me? I know they're not safe. Instead of saying,"Why would they be mean to me? I must be misunderstanding." I will say,"Unfriend. Unfollow. Block." 

My gut feeling has been right, time and time again, and I need to stop gaslighting myself and start listening to it when it's warning me.