Batgirl: kicking ass and taking names

Yesterday, actress Teal Sherer (www.tealsherer.com, @TealSherer) released a video addressing DC Comics' decision to "cure" Batgirl, effectively ending her run as one of the most well-known paraplegic superhoroes out there.



While I am not a fan of comic books or superhero stories, Teal raises a very interesting point here – do people with disabilities need to be "cured" or "fixed"?

Yes, it would be nice if there was a cure for things like spinal cord injury. But instead of repeatedly focusing on finding cures, why not focus on reachable goals? The disability rights movement focuses a lot on accommodating and including those with disabilities. Sounds reachable, right? After all, not every disability can be magically "cured."

That leads to DC Comics' treatment of Batgirl. I think "curing" her is a big mistake. It seems like it was meant to be a feel-good decision by DC but instead I sense a hint of ableism; is physical ability a standard for being a hero? Think about real-life "heroes" such as the police force or army. The real brains behind their operations rely not on brute force or strength but by intelligence and investigative work – without those, it wouldn't matter how much muscle you have. Of course, those are also certainly things that someone like Batgirl can do.

So does she need to be "fixed"? I don't think so. A character like that can add an extra dimension to any story and could play a vital role in apprehending ANY villain.

I'm done ranting, but to finish things off, I'd like to give some examples of characters who have played vital roles in "superhero"-like movies and TV shows without the use of brute physical strength:

• Rupert Giles (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
  
• Chloe Sullivan (Smallville)
  
• Walter Bishop (Fringe)
  
• Adrian Monk (Monk)
  
• Madeline Westen (Burn Notice)
  
• Moz (White Collar)
  
• Auggie (Covert Affairs)
  
• Nate Ford (Leverage)
  
• Chloe O'Brien (24)
  

Unisex disabled washrooms "discriminatory"?

"Discrimination" is a word that people with disabilities throw around quite often. It is not without reason – we face it in employment, social activities, transportation and so on. We face a constant struggle to gain an equal status to people without disabilities.

But when is it not discrimination but, rather, common sense?

A friend of mine alerted me to an article from the Korea Times, an English-language newspaper from Seoul, South Korea. In the article:

'Unisex toilets for disabled discriminative'

Unisex toilets for the disabled in subway and train stations are discriminative, the nation’s human rights watchdog said Thursday, recommending their operators improve the situation.

“We concluded that unisex toilets in subway and train stations in the metropolitan area are discriminatory against disabled people as they fail to offer due convenient measures to them,” the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) said in a statement.

...

The decision came as four organizations for the disabled such as the Network of Accessible Environments for All and the Institute of the Disabled for Independent Living filed a petition last year, arguing the disabled experience difficulties in using the facilities in many subway and train stations.

According to the NHRC, the ratio of unisex toilets stands at 26 percent, 45 percent and 24 percent at stations of Korail, Seoul Metro and Seoul Metropolitan Rapid Transit Corporation, respectively.

The NHRC said it reached the decision on the grounds that the non-disabled use separated toilets and unisex toilets can make the disabled feel a sense of shame.

Upon the decision, the three operators pledged to renovate their toilets for the disabled, but expressed financial difficulties and space problems.

I have been to Seoul before. It is not a wheelchair-friendly city. Their subway system definitely tries to be accessible but faces many structural challenges. Unlike Vancouver's SkyTrain system, having washrooms at stations is quite common. Some of them have accessible stalls, some do not.

If they don't have room for accessible stalls, then they have the above-mentioned unisex washrooms instead. While I realize that they wish to maintain the sex segregation for accessible stalls to maintain equality, I also think it's somewhat stupid.

Let's face it. Without the ability of many mobility-impaired folks to stand properly or stand and maintain balance, it makes little difference whether someone is using a urinal or a toilet – we're more likely to use the toilet no matter what our sex is.

Also, personally, I've found that accessible stalls that are in regular sex-segregated washrooms tend to be used a lot by able-bodied people. They cherish the space and whatnot; I was once able-bodied and I get that. But in unisex washrooms, it seems much more of a rarity that an able-bodied person would be using it (unless he/she has a baby in a carriage; that is understandable). It is also often cleaner than the "regular" washrooms, which is a big plus for people with disabilities whose wheels roll through God-knows-what in "regular" washrooms.

Sure, sometimes it's weird to be separate from everyone else while you're doing your business, but it's nice to be able to catheterize or empty your legbag/Foley bag or whatever you do in peace without people rushing in and out only mere metres from you. I was never a pee-shy kind of guy but personally, I find it comforting.

I don't find unisex accessible washrooms discriminatory. I actually kind of like them.

Follow-up: Staring, people's assumptions

Yesterday I posted a blog entry about the issue of staring at people in wheelchairs. Today, I came across another interesting viewpoint, from Tiffany Carlson (@TiffCarlson).

It is from the EasyStand blog, in a post entitled "We Can Live The Good Life Too":

Sometimes I get the feeling that everybody is staring at me. Not because I’m in a wheelchair, and not because my hair is brighter than some car headlights. They stare because they’re surprised – they’re surprised to see a woman in a wheelchair who doesn’t fit the typical “wheelchair person” mold, and they do a double take.

Someone in a wheelchair should be pitiable, helpless, unable to “truly” live fully, but when they see me whiz by, or especially once they get to know me, the people who’ve NEVER known someone with a disability, and if asked – would probably say our lives could never be fulfilling – find an overwhelming blanket of confusion settle in. Crippled yet accomplished…and possibly enviable? Brain does not compute.

This ties into what I mentioned in yesterday's blog entry about hanging out with friends and how both my friends and I are stared at in public as if it's an alien concept for a person in a wheelchair to have friends and hang out with them. I don't know if it's the archaic notion that people in wheelchairs are "supposed to be" shuttered away from the public and other people, but it certainly seems to befuddle a lot of people.

In addition, I am more mobile and agile than people assume. On more than one occasion, I've had people make surprised remarks about how fast I am and how well I can get around. At one recent job interview, the person on the phone was doubtful as to whether I can do the job (it's in retail) but the interviewer quickly saw that I had no problem getting around even in a wheelchair, and said, "Yeah, you move around pretty well. It might not even be a problem in this job at all."

They don't know that I am capable of things like wheeling at full running speed for 3 kilometres along the False Creek seawall without stopping, and then some. They don't know that I've done more things in a wheelchair than my time out of it. They don't know a lot of things that would surprise them because it's assumed that if you can't walk properly, your life... well, kind of sucks.

Those things really give a new spin on the idea of the "typical" wheelchair user. I have a habit of doing things that are not expected of wheelchair users, such as go around independently or hanging out with people I know. After all, this kind of thing is expected from other people, so why not us?

Tiffany ends her piece by saying:

You can’t stop people from jumping to assumptions and throwing their old school stereotypes on you. At the end of the day you just need to live your life without care of what anyone thinks.

It's definitely true. When I was adjusting to life with a disability, I found that people tended to help a lot, sometimes to the point where they are actually being UNhelpful. An example is holding a door open while standing right in front of the doorway, or opening the other double door (which I use for leverage when opening the first double door). I don't need or want the help sometimes but what can you do? The assumption that people in wheelchairs are helpless is something that doesn't disappear overnight; the only thing to do is ignore that and do whatever you would do if those people weren't there.

I may be ranting by now, but I think Tiffany touched on a very big topic that is often overstated but under-analysed. Assumptions permeate our lives more than it should, but they certainly make life interesting.

Staring

As someone in a wheelchair, I tend to stand out. It's unavoidable. You're different. Your inability to walk distinguishes you from the general population and it leads to things like pity, prejudice, assumptions and so on.

In Western cultures, we are taught that staring is impolite. This rule enters a weird gray area when it comes to people with visible disabilities. Most commonly, either people will stare at you intensely or avoid looking at you as if looks could literally kill. Both of these extremes can be a little annoying, though it's the staring that bugs me sometimes.

A few days ago, I came across a video interview with Paralympian Chelsea McClammer from neighbouring Washington state, who received an L-level spinal cord injury when she was a small child. She was asked about whether it bothers her when people stare at her. Her answer was quite interesting (and amusing):



Her answer was not at all what I expected. Personally, I hate being the centre of attention in a group (outside of spectator sports, where I often cheer for the enemy team). I get uncomfortable when people give me attention only because I'm in a wheelchair. I'd rather be noticed for something else – ANYTHING else – other than that.

However, my answer is not all black and white. I don't mind it if a child stares, because they are merely curious. But when the child's parents usher him/her away and order the child not to stare, that also bugs me because it re-enforces the idea that people with disabilities are to be feared or ignored.

Yet I don't like grown-ups staring at me. Go figure.

Also, not staring can lead to ignorance. I don't mean "ignorance" as in "lack of knowledge" but rather as in "ignoring someone." I've been in situations where I would enter a store and the clerk would completely ignore me to the point where if I needed help finding or getting something, he/she would be totally oblivious to my presence. That's not good either, so perhaps conditioning people to not stare (or even look) at people with disabilities is a problem.

This question is more loaded than it seems, so I posed a question on Twitter:

I asked this question a few days ago & would love to get some input: As a person with a disability, do you mind others staring? Why/why not?less than a minute ago via web Favorite Retweet ReplyPriority Seating
NextStopOrBust

Some of the answers I got were quite interesting:

@NextStopOrBust I hate it, but what can we do? I can't get angry about all of them...less than a minute ago via web Favorite Retweet ReplyDrew Keaton
drewiscrazy

@NextStopOrBust Vent-dependent quad here! I've gotten used to it. I just don't know why I'm so fascinating. Ok I can't breathe on my own? SOless than a minute ago via web Favorite Retweet ReplyRobbie Anderson
RobbieTAnderson

@NextStopOrBust This is - partly - an answer to your question. @Notorious_QRG writes re: disability and metrosexuality.http://t.co/LYGOcZOless than a minute ago via web Favorite Retweet ReplySteve Sparshott
SteveSparshott

@NextStopOrBust And here's a bit by me, about using my wheelchair on the street. http://t.co/mdAFQhAless than a minute ago via web Favorite Retweet ReplySteve Sparshott
SteveSparshott

It's a bit fascinating to hear answers going both ways.

I guess the only thing that can please both sides is the often-stated goal of "normalcy" for people with disabilities. Treat them as you would treat any other person, instead of ignoring them or giving too much attention (to the point where it is unwanted) to them.

The friends of mine who knew me before I started using a wheelchair have definitely noticed the staring because they get stared at too, by association. This ties in to the idea of "normalcy" – it should be normal for someone in a wheelchair to be able to hang out with able-bodied friends. Instead, it feels like my friends and I are a bit of a curiosity when we're out.

Hopefully there will be a day when a person with a disability will get stared at for having some food stuck on his/her face instead of his/her method of mobility.

Sappy media stories about "walking again"

I am going to get a lot of heat for saying this, but I really hate sappy news stories about paraplegics being able to "walk again" due to some miracle machinery.

It is in response to this story that came out a few months ago. A student, who acquired a spinal cord injury in 2007, is set to walk across the stage at his graduation at Berkeley, with the help of a robotic exoskeleton and forearm crutches.

While I am not against a cure for spinal cord injury (quite the opposite, actually), I really don't like the emphasis that some, such as the media, puts on the ability to walk.

This may sound bad, but hear me out. Read the news story. It puts so much emphasis on walking and portrays people who are able to walk as somewhat "better" than those who cannot. It is totally ableist -- its basic message is, "You're more worthy as a person if you can walk."

That kind of thinking is what propels millions of dollars into developing these exoskeletons, which are cumbersome and not useful for regular use anyhow. As it is right now, nobody is going to a) be able to afford them, b) use these regularly, and c) use exoskeletons as the "band-aid solution" to paralysis. With these issues, all those millions can be better spent trying to find a cure for spinal cord injury, don't you think?

I find that stories like these serve a "feel-good" purpose for able-bodied people more than anything. Not being able to stand and walk is the most visible complication of spinal cord injury, and this story makes people think, "Hey, we're making progress!"

That is not progress. Progress is not only finding a cure for paralysis, but also finding improved ways of managing the complications of spinal cord injury. Many (but not all) people with spinal cord injury say that the ability to walk is a secondary concern to other complications such as skin breakdown, pressure sores, bladder and bowel control, body temperature regulation, muscle atrophy, autonomic dysreflexia, and so on. I'd rather see improvements in handling those problems first, because some of these problems can be fatal if not treated properly! Meanwhile, nobody dies from not walking.

I'm sure this blog entry is going to create a lot of controversy for whoever comes across it. And to be honest, I don't know how many people would agree with me. But those are my thoughts and I'm sticking with them.

Equal opportunity employers. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe not.

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

--Animal Farm by George Orwell

I'm a pessimistic person in general. A lot of people are surprised when they hear it, but it's true. In my view, at the root of every person (even for me) is greed and selfishness, whether the person realizes it or not.

The same holds true for business. At the root of every business is greed and selfishness. Some businesses may have certain commitments or charitable goals, but at the end it is all about the bottom line.

Which is why they can't take a risk on workers with disabilities.

"We are an equal opportunity employer" is one of those things that ring hollow to me, right up there with the infamous cliché "We will keep your resume on file." It's something that a lot of companies have to say for one reason or another, whether it's true or not. I don't believe either one of those commonly-used sayings.

I have been actively looking for work for nearly a year now, with little success. Some recruiters and head-hunters have seen my resume and have noted that I have a lot of marketable skills. Some were actually quite shocked that I haven't had more luck.

I've landed several interviews. Except for one interview, one of the things that seemed to bug employers a lot (based on either their questions or their reactions to me) is the fact that I'm in a wheelchair. Some of these have claimed to be an "equal opportunity employers."

I remember one interview where the concern was not so much with the job itself but rather how I'm supposed to get to my job. Granted, it is in the Fraser Valley (which is a 45-minute drive away) but I repeatedly assured them that I can drive and have made the commute many times before.

Eventually, the interview contained about two questions about the job itself and about ten questions about how, as a wheelchair user, I would be able to perform my job. The funny thing about it is that the job is almost completely computer-based; I have the use of my arms, so it is strange that they would perceive my walking ability to be the biggest factor!

Now, some of you are probably asking: "Isn't it illegal to ask that kind of stuff?"

Technically, it is illegal to ask something like that in a job interview if it does not relate to one's ability to do the job. Some may ask about those things for the purpose of determining what accommodations (if any) need to be made, but that's about it. My use of a wheelchair does not affect my ability to do a job that is online- and computer-based.

Theoretically, I could raise a stink and turn this into a big deal. It would be a big black mark on the company. It would definitely get the interviewer in huge trouble.

But the problem with that is the same problem as going through border customs -- like a customs officer, the interviewer is your judge and executioner in many ways. They are the thing standing in your way to a job and career. You need to impress and please that person more than they need to impress and please you. If you cause a raucous, future employers will see that you like to rock the boat and cause a disturbance, and will hesitate to have a loose cannon like that in the company.

That's why I did nothing about it.

It's not right to have this happen, by any means. The fact of the matter is that discrimination in general is hard to prove, especially when it's often a "he said/she said" situation. If accused, the person could make up something about the job needing some manual labour better fit for an able-bodied person, whether it be lifting a stack of papers or whatever. There are so many ways to weasel your way out of a discrimination accusation.

Sometimes it's more subtle. I've had employers in the past act extremely uncomfortable at the fact that I'm in a wheelchair. I know it's not a good thing to do, but I purposely don't inform them about this fact unless I'm concerned about the accessibility of an interview location; I used to inform employers ahead of time but that often backfired on me so I stopped doing it.

Anyways, some employers act so uncomfortable that they would be in a huge rush to finish the interview early and rush me out of the room. Again, these are jobs that don't require the ability to walk and some were from "equal opportunity employers." For these, I knew I was ruled out as a candidate as soon as the interviewer saw me.

Is it any wonder why I don't buy into the whole "equal opportunity employer" statement?

Not all of it is bad. The one bright light I've seen so far is the University of British Columbia. I was interviewed for a position there. There was the initial surprise but that blew over quickly and I felt throughout my interview that they were taking me seriously. The only issue that came up was accommodations (mostly wheelchair accessibility) but they immediately said that it would be no problem. So far, they have been the best so far at backing up their "equal opportunity" statement.

Despite the progress made to breaking down barriers for those with disabilities, there is still a lot of work to do. There's a reason why stories like these and these and these keep popping up. It is easy to build a ramp and break down physical barriers, but the social and psychological barriers are still strong as stone and just as cold and unwelcoming.

Disability expos: some differences

First of all, I love disability expos. I think they're awesome. Sometimes I wish I had money and time to travel to go to them.

Why are they cool? They offer a great chance to do things like check out the newest gadgets (I'm a gadget guy), latest programs and actually see what is being done in the disability community.

It is interesting to note that in the two major expos I've been to in the past year, both of them have had different focuses. I don't know if this is due to funding or sponsorship, but it is certainly interesting.

Back in October, I went to an expo called Care Fair in Seattle, Washington. It is a combination of a disability expo and a series of lectures about various issues relating to disabilities (which you can attend in exchange for college participation credits or something, apparently). While it was neat to meet so many of our counterparts south of the border, I found that it was very corporate and most of the booths out there were advertising new products.

That was not surprising since the title sponsor was a Washington and Oregon health products provider. It was really neat to try out things that I've often only seen on YouTube or on other sources online. I got to try out a wheelchair that lifts users to others' eye levels. I got to see what kind of new wheelchair technologies were being prototyped. I got to try out a stander that did its job so quickly that my legs immediately spasmed all over the place once it lifted me to standing position. (That was scary too.)

It was almost like being a kid in a toy store. While needing to use a wheelchair can be annoying, I've always found it fun to try out new stuff because you never know when you might want one (assuming the costs are manageable). A lot of these products are not as widespread or readily available in Canada, which is a shame. I would often need to drive to Bellingham in Whatcom County or Seattle to obtain them. Some Seattle dealers are also willing to travel to Whatcom County to meet customers.

Fast forward to spring. A few weeks ago, I went to Vancouver's own disability expo at the Roundhouse Community Centre in Yaletown, presented by the Connectra society. Being my first expo in my own hometown, I was somewhat expecting something similar to the one in Seattle. I was surprised to see that products took a backseat to things such as social services, organizations and resources for people with disabilities. There were a few products being promoted there but they took on a secondary role.

The Disability Foundation posted a video of the Vancouver expo:


I don't know if it is a USA vs. Canada or a corporate sponsorship thing but the differences between the two are huge. I had a great time at both of them and each one has its own merits.

I see the advantage of having a product-focused expo. I learned a lot about the different products available and what new things are being developed. Because of this knowledge, I can decide on buying new products without falling for sales tactics that try to convince you that you need a certain product when you don't. I can also pass down this knowledge to other people I know. By testing out the products for myself at the expo, I can now tell what things I'd love to obtain and what I can do without that I previously wanted.

However, having an expo similar to the one in Vancouver is beneficial for those who are more focused on how to get involved in society. It is no longer about companies trying to sell things to you but rather societies trying to get you involved in their happenings. It is about the person, not the person's equipment. There are so many groups out there that people may not even be aware of and it is a great opportunity for them to make themselves known.

One thing I would love to see in Vancouver is a combination of the two approaches at a larger venue like the Vancouver Convention Centre downtown or the Trade-Ex in Abbotsford. An expo combining the two approaches has the potential to be one of the most popular disability events in North America, lining up comfortably with the existing Abilities Expos in the US that happens every spring and summer. It could attract people from all over Canada if done properly.

There is a lot of potential around this area for disability events. Hopefully these two events are just preparing us for something much larger in the future.