What would the world be like if it was built for us? The world as it is now is so unaccommodating to anyone who isn’t cis, straight, white, male, and able bodied. Whether it’s lack of gender neutral bathrooms or failure to provide disability access in stores and restaurants, the world we live in now is not built for people who don’t meet the western societal standards of what a perfect body should look and function like. That being said, why isn’t the world more accessible? Aren’t we the ones who decide how the world should work? So why is it that we continue to make these things so inaccessible when it is an easy fix? It’s so engrained in our society that this is just the way things are and that we should just accept it. It’s like the saying “if it’s not broken, don’t fix it” except it is broken and we refuse to acknowledge it. There are so many ways in which the world could be more accessible that just aren’t implemented tin the way they should be. Like why do we not have wheelchair ramps and elevators at every establishment? We could make all restrooms gender neutral as well. Small things such as this would make the world a much more accessible place for everyone to live and be happy. I guess I just don’t understand why we would go out of our way to make things inaccessible for those who need these things. Not to mention it would help everybody, not just those who you would think need it. An example would be parents withs strollers, a ramp would be helpful to them too so they don’t have to carry the stroller up a flight of stairs. Moral of the story, the world could be so much more accessible if we just decided that it should be.
“F*ck your disorder”
A few weeks ago I had a difficult bipolar/autistic meltdown that spiraled me into a dissociative state. I say bipolar slash autistic because the criteria and symptoms for both disorders overlap so much that it is nearly impossible to tell them apart within my own body at this point. I wasn’t able to attend some of my classes for two weeks because my mental state was feeling immensely guilty about using my accommodations. Every time I typed up another email to a professor, saying that I once again had to rely on my disability accommodations, I felt my chest tighten with anxiety and guilt, as if I was doing something wrong by needing my accommodations. I didn’t want my professors to think that I was lying to get out of class to go out with my friends. To be fair I did hang out with my friends and try and do stuff during the time I had class, but everything we did was an attempt to pull me out of the dissociative state I was in. As someone who has heard numerous times that they don’t look “autistic” or “disabled”, I am aware that this is a judgment that many pass on me, and I was aware that my professors may think that as well. Perhaps out of guilt, I sent an email to my professors, explaining that I had bipolar disorder and was struggling to pull myself out of a rough episode that left me unable to even read and comprehend the readings for any of my classes. Most of my professors answered with supportive statements, validating my disability and granting me as many extensions as I needed. One professor emailed me back, ignoring the fact that I had just opened up to him about my identity, and demanded I turn in my work within 48 hours, because the accommodation guidelines offered a 48 hour extension as an example guideline. Evidently, I was not able to get my work in, because I am not able to pull myself out of a dissociative episode on command; to make it worse, when I finally returned to class the following week he spoke negatively about bipolar disorder in class, leaving me stunned and panicked. I made the rather obvious assumption that I wasn’t his favorite student. Rather than fighting with him every step of the way, I decided to withdraw from the class, postponing my graduation from this December to May. I was devastated telling my parents that I would not be graduating as soon as they thought, and I was even embarrassed, knowing that if I pushed myself I could have made it through the class. But just because you can do something as a disabled person, doesn’t mean it is worth it. I was reminded in a somewhat blunt manner that not everyone will accommodate your disability, and sometimes it’s better to give up, then to fight for your right to take a class.
The emotional labour it would have taken for me to fight with this professor every step of the way, just to most likely pass with a C in his class was not worth it for me. Personally, I am proud of myself for knowing my boundaries and how far I can push myself. He made me feel weak and made me hyperaware of how people view me as someone who is bipolar and on the sepctrum.
Subtle ableism is so present in today’s world that it goes unnoticed by most, unless we are directly affected by it. For me, this was an example of direct ableism, someone who would do the bare minimum to accommodate my needs, and refused to do anything more. It was dehumanizing, but it also reminded me how lucky I am to not be faced with people like him, and ableist challenges on a daily basis. Our world was not made for disabled bodies, whether it’s expectations at work, to campuses being not accessible, to the general population applying certain stigmas to disabled people as a whole. As a physically abled person who is usually able to mask their disability in public, I don’t have to constantly worry how I will make it to class on time, or if the elevator will work today, or if I will be able to make it up the hill to my building for class, and that gives me a certain privilege. The dialectic of both being disabled and abled is an interesting limbo to live in. I can’t imagine how it would be if I had to worry about physical disability on top of my ever present mental disability, still, I can’t help but wonder if I would have been treated better by that professor if my disability had been more visible.
“You’re Really Good At Taking Everyone’s Sh!t”
Emotional labor is the act of “regulating or managing emotional expressions with others as part of one’s professional work role”. For the context of this blog post, I will also be referencing emotional work as well, which is the role people use in any social context.
RANT: Every post, YouTube video, and link that I looked at typically focused on the emphasis of how women have been the brute focus of emotional work and often, labor. WHAT ABOUT THE MEN?!
BLOG: Ideally, men have been the focus, but in our current generation, I am starting to wonder if men are becoming the scapegoat for blame. There are good and bad things to this, but I can only share my experiences. From growing up in a household as an adopted child to working in hospitality at some of the best hotels in the Houston area, to coming home and being expected to “clean up everyone else’s shit” (one of my ex’s fathers literally told me this and suggested I work for some type of plumbing company) to experiencing my own version of emotional labor is…exhausting. As a recommendation, if you’re dealing with being the emotional laborer of your family or workplace, I suggest counseling, good friends, hobbies, and money.
Now that I have your attention, the emphasis on emotional labor during this period of the class was for women. Honestly, I love that. Often, the strongest women in my life have carried the emotional labor of EVERYONE in the family. My Grandmother (capital G, because she truly is a G), and my Aunt (who raised me, God bless her soul) have not only raised multiple members of the family but have guided others and influenced people for generations to come. I can endlessly explain what they have done for everyone, including my impaired brother (this falls into the disability category of the past few weeks, but I decided to not go in-depth with these issues and instead focus on emotional labor…anyway) My Grandmother has done amazing things as a widowed woman, and when my grandfather was alive, what I recall of him, he was a remarkable man, veteran, and overall generally good person. In order for him to be that he needed to have an even stronger woman there to not only support him, but to motivate and guide him. We so often focus on a certain gender, but I think its vital to focus and include everyone because we cannot physically do it all on our own – even if social media suggests that we do.
When it comes to emotional labor for myself, as an older male, I grew up with the family vibe of “you want it? Do it yourself” This mindset has its own version of toxic masculinity and it worked for a time, but as I have grown older and started practicing gratitude, meditation, and fitness, I have learned that kindness is the key to growing. However, that is also the curse of being easily manipulated and being the scapegoat out of a lack of emotion – if you allow yourself to be. When working as a hotel supervisor, I found myself taking on the emotional verbal abuse of people that travelled so far and attempted to check in, but one minor inconvenience (Well…one time there was a major inconvenience, we sold out and by the time they got there…the people didn’t have a room… and they were diamond members which is equivalent to being a traveling version of Karen) set them over the top, and I had to apologize profusely, make up for their issues by giving them a free nights stay at another hotel, etc… all while keeping a smile on my face. So dumb, but it was vital in learning how to maneuver around people when they are angry and teaching myself how to stay calm in the face of disappointment. That’s an invaluable trait and lessons/memories that I am grateful for.
I don’t know, I am a believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I should allow myself to be the gatekeeper of my own “shit”, to be more selfish and selfless at the same time, and to lack the attempt to understand everything and everyone around me but I cant do that shrug. In essence, I think all of us must have some type of role in emotional labor, but please, don’t forget to take care of your mental, physical, and financial well-being. Your family, friends, and pets will thank you for it. (I will always choose to be kind and thank you to all of the people in my life, wouldn’t be me without YOU).
Reproductive bodies and Disabilities in Different Cultures
According to many cultures around the world, It is a woman’s “duty” to reproduce. In fact, many people believe that our sole purpose here on earth is to pop out kids and try to populate this planet. This view doesn’t even consider if the woman – who has to carry and deliver the baby – even wants kids in the first place. And If a woman chooses not to be a mother, she is not doing her “duty.” Like duty by said who? God? Not everyone believes in an eternal being with infinite power. It’s even concerning how some people wholly ignore how much work goes into having a child; all the sacrifices and attention to detail that a woman needs to have in order to deliver a healthy baby. I remember having a friend from Dubai who told me that the culture there in Dubai is very patriarchal, and it is the men who do most of the decision-making in the family. The woman is just his “wife.” His job is to look after the woman and her kids, and her job is to do housework and take care of the kids. This kind of thinking is a very traditional way to view gender roles. It is how cavemen view gender roles, where the men are tasked with hunting, and the women are to pick berries and take care of children. However, we can all agree that this view is outdated and it views women as if they are physically disabled, thus an “almighty” man is needed in all families to guide them and fill in the gaps that woman is unable to fill.
Drawing some examples from Baynton’s Disability and the Justification of Inequality in American History and the film Aftershock, women have been viewed as being physically disabled, at least that’s how Baynton wants us to understand them. He argues that a patriarchal society – like the one we have in America – views women as weaker, emotional, irrational, and thus inferior to men. This reasoning can explain why women are paid less than men despite taking on similar positions. This belief that women are irrational is the reason why women in some areas of the middle east are not allowed to drive or in some cases pick their lovers. This is a social disability that needs intervention because it can be crippling to the advancement and well-being of a lot of women in patriarchal societies.
Forgiveness Does Not Always Heal
Honor thy mother and thy father. That’s how I think it goes anyways. Now I’m not religious, nor am I against anyone who is, but that line runs deep into society more than most people think. I grew up experiencing abuse from both of my parents. One more than the other, but abuse nonetheless. My mother, I have forgiven her for what she has put me through. She’s an addict, and has suffered her own plethora of abuse. She never intended on being neglectful. My father on the other hand, I don’t think I can ever forgive. He is abusive in all of the ways you could think of. Society puts on this pressure that no matter what, your parents are your family and above all created you, so you owe them forgiveness. I have heard many people tell me (religious and not) “well he’s your father”, as if that erases all that he has put me through, and like I owe him something. Although I am no longer in physical or social contact with him, his abuse still haunts me. I have PTSD and GAD that I live with, and it greatly affects my day to day life. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without the worry that I will break out into a debilitating panic attack that could last for hours. I rarely (if ever) feel “normal”. I feel like he has robbed me of my life sometimes, a happy one at least. So, to be told that I need to forgive him ignites a fire in my soul. I recently have cut off all communication with my whole paternal side of my family because I realized they all don’t care about how much of a truly terrible human being he is. I even confided in my aunt and others about his abuse when I was younger and got nothing in return. No one should ever feel like they need to forgive another just because they are family, or in general for that matter. Forgiveness does not always heal. With all of this I would like to say, honor thy mother and thy father as they honor you.
Attitudes
I never wanted to be like her
Always complaining and never solving
Making others push her around in a wheelchair when she could still walk
Never taking her medication even as she complains about her failing health.
As I got older, I stopped wanting to be like him too.
Never visiting the doctor
Always making excuses for his aches
He let his body fall apart
Too afraid to admit he needed help.
I was glad they made me independent
They taught me not to make excuses
They taught me to work harder to be like everyone else
They taught me to get a stool when I was too short
They taught me to go to doctors and take my medicine
They taught me to be better than they were.
I wake up at 8 am
I take my pills at 9am
I wear my brace
I wear my prosthetics
I wear a smile
I need help, but
If I fall apart
I can put myself back together
I feel sorry for them
I want to help them
I know I can’t
They gave strength
They gave me choices
They gave me what they didn’t have
Thanks mom and dad ❤️
Emotional Labor and Anxiety
Arlie Hochschild, the sociologist who coined the term emotional labor, defines the term as work, for which you’re paid, which involves trying to feel the right feeling for the job through evoking and suppressing feelings. Depending on who you are or what your job is, the emotional labor of a job can be even more draining than the work itself. For example, jobs in customer service where you have to be attentive and polite to lots of customers within a day even when you are not treated so well, and jobs like nursing or caretaking where you have to take care of many people and deal with sickness or death on a daily basis while keeping your composure. This strain can be added to when also dealing with things such as anxiety or depression, which can make it harder to manage your own emotions.
Continue readingMy Father’s Sacrifice
Not even a day before this unit, My father had very bad arthritis in his hands. It was very painful watching him in pain as his hands were spasming and in pain. It is a very direct reminder that my old man is actually getting older. He works at Food Depot in Baltimore, and he has worked there for 5 years. Over time, he has accumulated lesions on his skin (I think its called “psoriasis”) that were caused by him grinding his life away in a freezer. Also, one night he cut his finger very badly and went to the hospital, but still pulled through and bought me a game for Christmas. Despite his faults, he has always pulled through for my sister and I, and worked hard so that I wont have to work as hard. While he worked in a freezer all day, Ill be freezing in an office writing code on a computer. He always told me to be better than him, but I am deathly afraid that he wont be around to see that. Its very interesting to talk about what we do to have just a simple, dignified life. Parents have to destroy themselves just to provide the bare minimum for their kids.
When my sister was Born!! :)
tldr; i love my family very much
My sister and I have a 10-year age difference. College has put some distance between us but the second she needs me, I’m there for her. Although faint, I remember her first rolling over, her first steps, her first words, her cute outfits, changing her diaper, her Halloween costumes, and much more memories. Thinking about the old times me nostalgic. Oh, how times have changed. Oh, how much worse they got. I would time travel back if I could, without thinking. I wish my sister has a more gentle and kind environment growing up but alas, all families have their problems. At least that’s what I convince myself as I grow older. My family is not perfect but we are very privileged. Our parents go above and beyond for us but who is taking care of them? Especially my mother.
My dad and I fought today. It’s complicated but long story short, my dad’s happiness stems from a clean house and a cooperative family. My mother has been fed up for a while now so she has given up on trying to please my dad. They went to counseling a couple of years ago and they explicitly expressed their unmet needs. My mom asked to be thought of more. To be prioritized more. Today, I told my dad he can’t complain about not having his needs met if he can’t meet her needs. Every couple of months I intervene and try to mediate a conversation but all I do is end up in tears. How can I be there for both of them if they aren’t communicating with each other?
My sister and I have a 10-year age difference. I remember the day she was born. I told my 4th-grade class that morning “My mother is giving birth today”. When I visited my mom at the hospital, she was soaked in sweat. Just now, I am coming to understand how traumatic that day was for her. She had a C-section. She was in labor for a long time but my dad didn’t support her. He stood and watched. She was crying and screaming but he didn’t even come next to her or hold her hand or wipe the hair off her face.
What is the laboring body? How do we support pregnant people? Not everyone has the support and love they need as they go through such a painful yet joyous experience. In Aftershock, the scene that sent me over the edge was the woman giving birth at the birthing center. Rather than looking at it as a procedure, the center focused on the woman and the experience she had. How would my mother’s experience be different if she had a doula or a midwife? How else can I explain to my dad that it’s the little things that matter to my mom, not him building a house for us or investing in properties to save up for their retirement? Instead, he claims that I care more about my mom and that I will always take her side and put him down. How many more times do I have to relive my worst nightmare? How do I express that I can’t imagine a life without them, that they both matter so much to me?
Design Accommodation
Back in 2019, my healthy active mom started having dizziness attacks that came and went. Eventually, she went to a doctor who misdiagnosed her and sent her home. She contacted her regular doctor when she completely lost hearing in her left ear and couldn’t move because of vertigo and nausea. She was sent to a specialist, had an MRI, and spent months in bed. She gradually recovered, but she had lost all of the hearing in her left ear. While it was scary seeing her so sick, at the time we all thought it was something temporary. She was recovering from an illness, not permanently disabled. As time went on though we realized it was permanent and a disability. She had to stop teaching since the noise made her head ache so badly that she would have to lie down for hours afterward. Going out to loud venues, from restaurants to concerts was too painful. We all learned to stand on her right and to repeat ourselves when needed.
I also discovered that there are those who just don’t care. One time we walked by a woman at a store who yelled at my mom, “I was next!” When my mother kept on walking, I stopped to explain that there was another register open and that my mom is deaf. The woman’s response was a snort of disgust. I was furious that my mom’s disability could be dismissed with a snort by a person who persisted in believing that she had been wronged. My mother dismissed it as one of the advantages of not always being able to hear. At my brother’s rugby game she couldn’t hear the racist, sexist and homophobic “jokes” made by the people behind us. She has found it freeing in some ways to not always be able to hear. At the same time, she was excited to go to a theater that had headphones available that made it possible for her to understand what the actors were saying. Having a disability often means that people simply accept the difficulties life presents, but there is an amazing feeling of liberty when an accommodation has been made that removes that difficulty.
My mom’s experience made me realize how much our society is set up based on some undetermined norm of physical ability when in reality our society is made up of people with a wide range of abilities. We tend to only see a disability when it is obvious: someone in a wheelchair or walking with a white cane. While we have the Americans with Disabilities Act, there are many people whose disabilities go unseen or are unsupported, thus making navigating everyday life more difficult. I believe disability can be viewed as a design issue. We can do more to design spaces that accommodate people with varying abilities. For example, at airports and train stations, having announcements displayed on a scrolling screen, would help direct people who are deaf or hard of hearing. Our government, at all levels, needs to require more up-to-date accommodation standards to be incorporated into our public spaces.
Unruly Bodies 
