One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his
son to the country to illustrate how poor people live.
They spent a couple of days on a farm of a very poor
family, the story goes.
On the way home, the father asked his son, "How
was the trip?"
"It was great, Dad."
"Did you see how poor people live?"
"Oh, yeah."
"So, tell me, what did you learn from the
trip?"
The son replied, "I saw that we have one dog,
and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the
middle of our garden, and they have a creek that has no
end. We have imported lanterns in our garden, and they
have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front
yard, and they have the whole horizon. We have a small
piece of land to live on, and they have fields that go
beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but
they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow
theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us,
and they have friends to protect them."
The boy's father was speechless. Then his son added,
"Thanks Dad, for showing me how poor we are."
It's remarkable how children can articulate their
perspective of the world, consider people without
prejudice and promptly voice their opinions openly.
The perception of disability can be viewed in a
number of ways: as a curse for past crimes, a punishment
from God, a cruel and uncertain future - you name it.
Nearly every definition of disability I've found has
negativity behind it. Finding words to convey that a
person with a disability can be joyful has been an
ongoing crusade for the disability community.
Many have tried to lump together people in the
disability community, who have a diverse culture without
bias: One can become a member anytime, anywhere,
regardless of race, creed, color, gender, sexual
orientation or wealth. In the blink of an eye you can be
changed from a person who is easily described to someone
creating confusion and anxiety.
Words have been tossed around the past 40 years,
trying to give people with disabilities a label that is
acceptable to all. So far, none have lasted more than a
few years.
My first encounter with labels was in 1969, when I
heard the word "cripple" used to describe me.
Next came "invalid," "disadvantaged"
and "wheelchair-bound," which generated
feelings of doom.
Politically correct terminology came along, and words
such as "handicapper," "PWD,"
"physically challenged," "disabled,"
"crip" and the sometimes-comical
"gimp" came and went.
Young children are straightforward about their
perspective on life and people. My favorite kid's
comment is, "The lady in the wheelchair that can't
walk" - pure, simple and direct.
I try to keep my perspective by taking a
nonjudgmental attitude, being sincere and remembering
the importance of empathy. Labels frequently lack all
three.
McKee, a wheelchair user, is a freelance writer
and producer. You can e-mail her at chairgrrl@chairgrrl.com.
