You have no choice but to work with what you’re given. After a semester of looking at some of the most marginalized populations throughout history, it should be clear that the body you occupy is a significant factor in what path your life takes. Everyone probably knows to not judge a book by the cover. However, realistically the stereotypes that come along with visual markers of identities like sex, race, ethnicity, and so on are carried into every new room you step foot in. Sure, it’s 2021, we are in the midst of the girlboss era and Netflix’s poorly executed diversity campaigns. I’ve often heard from peers that “social justice warriors” are now making problems out of nothing since society has become more progressive, but I strongly believe that a lot of sexism and racism are better hidden which is so scary to me. In her post Access Intimacy, Mia Mingus described how, as a disabled woman, there is a level of acceptance and comfort that only comes with being surrounded by people who also have a disability. I try to deny it, but I agree it is hard to exist in spaces where deep down you know you stick out in like a sore thumb. 

I admit, I’ve been very fortunate to never have gone through any trauma or discrimination in my life but I can really relate to Mingus’s sentiment. Volunteering at a fire department takes up most of my time and has sadly become my central personality trait so I’m sorry that every post I’ve made to this blog is about my time there. I volunteer to get clinical experience for professional school applications and I genuinely want to be a capable member, but on big nights where there’s a lot of volunteers I’m always the only female. They’re generally pretty welcoming, but recently I couldn’t pretend to be ignorant anymore of the fact I’ll never be one of them or be fully respected. One of the guys I’m not as familiar with pulled me aside to accuse me of sleeping with the career staff and continued to make lewd jokes if I went off anywhere with anyone. Dude, there are literally only men present who the fuck else am I supposed to spend time with? I even try to be less feminine by avoiding makeup and wearing sports bras when I’m there but regardless I’m seen as a slut. They all cluck together like hens so I knew this was how they all actually felt about me. He’s just the one ballsy enough to speak up and protect his brethren from the temptress who has infiltrated their ranks. I stayed calm until I got home and I stood in front of the mirror with the razor ready to cut all of my hair off again. I didn’t cut it for two reasons: I looked like prepubescent Justin Beiber last time and regardless I’d still have a girl’s body and all the assumptions that go along with it. There’s a lot of positives to being a girl don’t get me wrong but sometimes there’s nothing I’d want more than to see how the other side lives. I know this perspective only acknowledges the gender binary but that’s the default framework most people think in and is what determines how they treat you. Looking at the big picture this passive-aggressive sexism doesn’t hold me back from getting the experience I need, so all I can do is let the rumors pile up in my wake. 

Imagine you’re a tired UMBC college student on your way to your 8AM class on the third floor of the Fine Arts Building. You find the elevator broken so you take the stairs. Despite being inconvenienced and a bit more crabby you’re perfectly able to get to class. However, when you can’t take the stairs then what? If you have reduced mobility you just have to pray that someone will be willing to help you get where you need to be or some other accommodation will be offered by the professor where you don’t need to be physically in class. Reduced mobility can come with age, injury, chronic condition, you can be born with it, and more. However, the only people who seem to be advocating for public spaces to be more accessible. Getting from point A to point B is a huge part of daily life but when it’s impossible to do that so many opportunities are also unattainable. 

Clearly, elevators are a must in any public multi-story building. Another blog post on this page from the phenomenolphemonologist perfectly captures the next issue to be addressed, “Accommodation is the bare minimum”. Although functional elevators take one less challenge away from the daily lives of the physically impaired, what if it isn’t an average day and there is a major emergency. However infrequent they seem, evacuations on this campus do occur. Last year I remember one of the dorms had to evacuate due to a pipe bursting and flooding a floor. It is common knowledge that elevators aren’t to be used during emergencies unless directed to but in a true emergency are the physically disabled forced to wait for emergency services to help them evacuate if no one else is willing or available? I browsed the 2019 UMBC Emergency Operations Plan which is created for personnel responsible for responding to emergencies and there were no specialized procedures to enable timely evacuation for the physically disabled. The advice from the university’s Office of Equity and Inclusion is a joke. Their advice for the abled-bodied consisted of things like help if you can, have a buddy system, and DO NOT use the elevators. The most outrageous advice the university gave to disabled people was to always have three days of emergency supplies. Clearly, they questioned what could be done for the physically disabled in the event of an emergency, just not enough to come up with any solutions. What about mobile stairchairs, why can’t they be on every floor along with the fire extinguisher or at least one per building? Unless it’s lawfully mandated I swear no accommodations will be provided even if there is available funding. With a quick google, the cheapest stairchair with treads was about $400 from Amazon. That is the price the university isn’t willing to pay despite the chances it could save a life. 

Alright, all-nighter, let’s fucking go. I sit down at my desk, most likely after my post-midnight nap, with metal queued up on Spotify to complement my off-brand Redbull and degeneracy. Like most students, I struggled through online schooling during COVID, toss in some MCAT studying, and all-nighters became standard. My grades didn’t slip, so the general consensus from peers and relatives was to stop being dramatic. My unofficial PHQ-9 score from when I screened patients at the doctors office I shadow at paints a different picture. They didn’t see the disfunction and I realized there’s never reason for concern until you stop meeting benchmarks. Benchmarks test performance, and by those standards, I was doing perfectly fine. 

It’s so easy to imagine how much better it would be to be everything you’re not. My milk carton description would probably go something like 5’3” asian woman with light brown hair. I’ve never faced any sexism or racism that could be considered significantly life altering and yet I can’t shake how often I’m reminded of my physically ascribed identities. I’m a mixed kid that never knew what box to check when race was asked on forms but people sure seem to be confident about what I am. Working in customer service I’ve been summoned as the white, lightskin, korean, thai, hawaiian, iranian, and latino girl. All incorrect assumptions but no biggie right? What’s concerning is how singular their focus was, categorization is ingrained in all of us, and there’s so many other things I could’ve been identified by. 

Back to the point, being comfortable in our own skin and how this affects what we choose to do in it. Just browsing the UnrulyBodies page it is clear that many of us feel limited by our bodies or uncomfortable with whatever assumptions come with them. My size and sex obviously affect my physical strength and I have a bad habit of signing up for things that require that. I recently was trying to decide if I wanted to get certified as a firefighter and it wasn’t in question if I could pass but whether I should do it at all. A firefighter friend convinced me doubt not my abilities was going to hold me back and that I should go for it. Wholesome! With new found excitement I told a family member the news and quickly the conversation took a bad turn. He said that it didn’t matter if I could do the job well, I could get hired as a career firefighter because I was female and a minority. 

I’ve had to defend anything I’ve accomplished so many times and it’s incredibly idiotic for both parties participating. The guy I’m arguing with envies my ability to steal a position from the hypothetical equally qualified man/white candidate he identifies with. In response I’d much rather be a man who can earn real respect and nobody would dare consider his only role was to increase diversity. Their argument is that I’m the one who is benefiting so why am I mad at him for pointing out the injustice of the situation. This fueled resentment and the suspicion that everyone believed I was the token female that didn’t deserve the space they take up. I held onto so much hatred that I’ve said some unjustifiably mean things to people and that wasn’t okay. I was ashamed and I tried to gain some empathy when I realized that just because their limitations are different to mine doesn’t make them any easier to carry. It felt good to let go, to just exist as I am. If you’ve struggle with this too, remember the grass is always greener on the other side.