I am not anyone’s inspiration p0rn. Abbreviated inspo p0rn, apparently, which I appreciate. I was reading an Ask A Manager post about disability and the workplace, and it’s really frustrating how even the most woke of women (the vast majority of her commentariat are female-presenting people) felt the need to say that the actions of the company were well-intended before going on with their comment. It became almost comical because it was a compunction to note that the company was well-meaning.
Who the fuck cares? Intent is not magic and the knee-jerk reaction shows how little we value people with disabilities. But, the commenters said, it’s would be worse if they meant to be malicious! Would it really, though? The end result is the same. In fact, in some ways, the fact that they were trying to be nice, but missed the mark by so much is almost worse because as the comments showed, there was not an insignificant portion of people who feel that the OP should have been grateful, regardless of the delivery.
There was one commenter who was oddly insistent that the OP needed to apologize or at least treat her coworkers/manager with kids gloves because they (the manager/coworkers) had to be crushed that their ‘good intentions’ landed so flatly. The commenter said that she would have been devastated if that happened to her and the other person reacted so poorly (in her eyes). Which, while not helpful, does underscore the point that there are people who only care about their own feelings and their own intentions.
Several people tried to argue with this commenter, but she was not swayed. The feelings of the manager and coworkers were more important than the feelings of the person aggrieved! And to be clear, the actions of the coworkers/manager were egregious.
Side Note: The golden rule is a bad rule. Treating others as you would want to be treated is part of the problem in this case. The platinum rule (which was mentioned in the comments) is better. Treat others as THEY want to be treated. And in this case, it was so simple. They only had to ask her what she wanted. Instead, they did it all behind her back (including making a cartoon caricature of her to place on the handicapped sign in the parking lot!!!!) and made a big display of it, expecting her to be grateful.
There are so many things wrong with what they did, it’s hard to enumerate them all. And in the end, their intentions don’t matter because they did it all without her input. There’s a phrase for any minority group that goes something like ‘nothing about us without us’. It’s paternalistic to decide something for someone else without asking them what they want.
In my case, I have gone round and round about being inspo p0rn because of what happened to me seven months ago. I understand that it’s highly-unusual. In fact, I can comfortably use the word ‘miracle’ to describe it. I defied death–twice. I was hit with walking pneumonia, two cardiac arrests, and a stroke within twenty minutes. I should be dead. I’ve accepted that. The fact that I’m not dead IS a miracle. I accept that as well.
But. Here’s the thing. That twenty minutes plus the week of unconsciousness and the moment I woke up–yes, it would make a great movie. But that’s not where my life ends. I’m still alive and living, which maybe isn’t as inspiring because I’m not doing anything spectacular. Except nearly platting Elden Ring, but that’s only spectacular to me. I’m still sitting on my couch watching YouTube videos as I write, write, write. My cat is sitting on top of the couch, snoozing. In other words, it’s just an average day.
A few weeks after I returned home from the hospital, my mom and I got into a big fight. She was gushing about how I should get my life made into a movie (which, I mean, that’s not how it works? I don’t get to decide that I want to make my life into a movie and it automatically happens). When I pointed out that it wasn’t as easy as that, she snapped back that I should do it because it would be so inspirational to other people. Yes, she literally said that.
And, look. I’m not against being an inspiration. If other people get something out of my story, that’s fine. But, and I don’t know how to say this delicately, that’s not a motivating factor for me to live my life. It’s not a surprise that my mom would push it so hard as she believes my main purpose for living is serving others, though.
In addition, I can’t give any actionable advice. I can’t, in good conscious, tell someone to get walking pneumonia, have two cardiac arrests and a stroke in the hopes that they will come out on the other side better than ever. I was incredibly lucky to not only survive, but thrive. I cannot stress enough that I was supposed to die. The doctors were frank with my brother as to my chances. 10% chance of any kind of survival. And if I did wake up, there would be brain damage. I would need months if not years of rehab just to function again.
Five days after I woke up, I was given a clean bill of health after passing a slate of tests with flying colors. I passed them all, ranging from satisfactory to outstanding. I only needed the physical therapist to walk with me for two days before she said she had nothing left for me (and the second day was more for reassurance than necessity). I forgot a word here and there, but for the most part, I could speak as I always had. I had some blurry vision, but that cleared up a week or two after returning home.
I recount all this not as a humblebrag (because I had nothing to do with it), but to underline how it was all luck. I mean, the fact that I’ve studied Taiji for fifteen years probably helped, but still. It’s just something that happened to me, fortunately. I’m glad to be alive. I’m grateful to still be around. My body is badass and I will not badmouth it any longer.
But, I’m still a human being. At a neighborhood function a few weeks after I got home (my parents guilted me into going), someone commented that I had been using a walker a few days ago and now I wasn’t. He added, “Good for you!” Which, condescending as fuck, yo. First of all, I never used the walker as a walker. I only had it as something t o lean on when I was tired. Second, my ability to walk is not communal property just because I had a huge medical scare. I very much doubt he would have been happy if I said something like, ‘You look like you have more hair today than yesterday. Good for you!” But, because I was ‘disabled’ in their eyes, it was perfectly fine for him to comment on it.
Let me point out that I know he had good intentions. I like him and he’s a good guy. That doesn’t change the fact that he was out of line and that how I was able to walk from day to day was none of his business. But people don’t see anything wrong with commenting on a disabled person’s ability to do something (and in this case, I was very much perceived as being disabled). The fact that I knew he meant well is why I just smiled and nodded. But it still grated. It was still annoying. And intent is not magic.
This is one of the hardest things to get across to abled people–you can mean well and still say/do the absolute wrong thing. When it’s pointed out to you that your words/actions didn’t land as intended, don’t get defensive, mad, or mortified–just do better.