for Bubba, again.

I would like to preface this brief yet generous contribution of lessons learned and tricks of the trade of disabledom[1] by saying I am writing this because nobody has yet, and it’s about damn time somebody did. I also preface this by saying that I am not a well-adjusted disabled person. There was never a guide whose purpose was to illustrate for me how to be one. Now there is. You’re welcome.

I have cerebral palsy, a congenital neuromuscular defect. This is just a pedantic way of saying I was born this way, and no, I did not rip off Lady Gaga. However, upon further reflection, using the word pedantic is pedantic, but I digress. I was born with cerebral palsy which has for thirty years rendered me orthopedically impaired and, well, rather cerebral. As such, I certify that I’m qualified to write this palsy politique.

It is with this same self-certitude that I assure you of the nondisabled’s propensity toward political correctness. Just as my cerebral palsy has made me cerebral, the nondisabled’s intense desire to level the playing field between us and them has made them communicatively cautious, rendering them politically correct. They are doing their best to be well-adjusted nondisabled people, and now, thanks to me, you can respond in kind by expecting their propensity to be politically correct.

Example:

Nondisabled Person: Tell me about yourself.

Disabled Person (you, or in this case me because if you knew what to say, you wouldn’t be reading this and you would have written it yourself, but you didn’t): I pursued my undergraduate studies at the University of Denver, double majoring in Creative Writing and Literary Studies and minoring in Spanish, graduating cum laude. I also have a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing, and I’m a published author, having published fiction and creative nonfiction.

Nondisabled Person: My, you’re very handicapable, aren’t you?

 

I interject here before continuing with our example in order to offer some friendly reminders and demystifications of empathy:

1. The nondisabled person is attempting to relate to you.
2. The nondisabled person perceives his or her question to be a positive query, an affirmation of your success(es) as a disabled person.
3. Acknowledge A and B.

Since I’m clairvoyant, I’ll list your inevitable responses and my subsequent reaction to them:

You: That term makes me uncomfortable. Handicapable? Really? It’s a bit reductive, isn’t it?

Me: Yes, handicapable. Accept it.

You: How?

How, indeed:

1. Answer the nondisabled person in the affirmative, emitting positivity, just as he or she did when initially inquiring about you. (i.e. Yes.)
2. Restate the nondisabled person’s term in your answer to him or her in order to show him or her that you realize he or she is making an effort to undermine the stigma of your disability. (i.e. handicapable.)
3. Embrace the nondisabled person’s choice to disable his or her diction by applying the term to form other parts of speech. (i.e. Turn handicapable, an adjective, into a noun.)

It is with these three aforementioned strategies of how to accept the nondisabled’s propensity to be politically correct that I return to our original example.

 

Nondisabled Person: Tell me about yourself.

Disabled Person (you, or in this case me because if you knew what to say, you wouldn’t be reading this, and you would have written it yourself, but you didn’t): I pursued my undergraduate studies at the University of Denver, double majoring in Creative Writing and Literary Studies and minoring in Spanish, graduating cum laude. I also have a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing, and I’m a published author, having published fiction and creative nonfiction.

Nondisabled Person: My, you’re very handicapable, aren’t you?

Now apply what we’ve learned, and put it all together. If done correctly, you’ll end up with a most appropriate response:

Disabled Person: Yes, I am very handicapable—very handicapable of popping a handicap in your ass.

Like, I said, expect, accept, and embrace.

[1]                   Spell check indicates that disabledom is not a word, but I learned in graduate school that I can define my own terms, so disabledom is not only a word but is defined as follows: Disabledom is a noun, meaning the state of being disabled.

*

Kelley A Pasmanick is the only Kelley A Pasmanick in the world. And no, those aren’t typos. Her middle name is A, period not included. She is One of Two of Three. That’s right. Seven of Nine has got nothing on her.

 

This piece was originally published in Loud Zoo.