Braided: Weaving Together Rhetoric of Space, Disability Studies, and Arntzen

Artist Statement:

Three years ago, I helped with the annual Global Health conference on Western’s campus. The theme was Criminalization of the Body, meaning we investigated why, how, and in what ways certain demographics experience marginalization of the body. One of the demographics we spent time on was the disabled community. Ironically, the conference was held in Arntzen Hall, arguably the most ableist building on campus. From there forward, I took notice of the potentially inequitable structures on campus.  

For my project, I compiled a zine that elaborates on the ableist characteristics of Arntzen Hall. Arntzen Hall was built in the late 60s and still stands as one of the most trafficked buildings on campus. It houses the largest lecture hall on campus, making it a hub for intro classes. Arntzen Hall stands as an example of the discriminatory rhetoric of space at WWU. There are countless other examples that piece together a message for Western staff, students and visitors, and that message is, “if you don’t fulfil our constraining, ableist ideals, you are not welcome here.”  

Terms:

Author’s note: many of these terms are nuanced beyond one definition; the definitions listed below are not stagnant or complete

  • Zine: Informal, small magazine, typically 8 quarter pages
  • Space: the tangible, spiritual, “atmospheric”, and contextual environment made up of relationships; persuasive place, cultivating e(a)ffect
  • Disability Studies: as defined by O’toole, Linton, Dolmage, folks in Disability Visibility, Brueggemann, Siebers, Johnson, and so many others, disability studies take on many hats; it is a field that challenges the normalization of being and embraces embodied rhetoric, centering the voices and stories of disabled folks
  • Arntzen Hall: A building on Western Washington University’s campus, constructed in the 60s; houses the largest lecture hall at WWU

Weaving Together Rhetoric of Space, Disability Studies, and Arntzen:

The importance of space extends beyond the physical makeup of infrastructure. Space cannot and does not exist in a vacuum; it has rhetorical power that produces and is produced by canonical perspectives. Often, the canonical perspective is designed by and for nondisabled people. The rhetorical power of space and the social model of disability braid together beautifully to give us a comprehensive look at ableist design. The social model of disability is explained by Bess Williamson as a model that sees the structures of the world as the producers of disability (Keywords For Disability Studies). This means that without the “space” we create, disability does not even exist; for example, a 3-story building that only has stairs (no other means of getting floor to floor) suggests that only folks who walk belong on the second and third floors. This example is a simplistic breakdown of rhetorical space, but as I am learning, rhetorical space can be philosophically complex, and even more complicated when trying to combat ableist structures (they are everywhere!).

Rhetorical space includes conceptual space as well; for example, time, communication, capacity for belonging, knowledge/education, and so much more is implied by space. In this research I hope to push the bounds past just “inclusive design” and into all-encompassing ideas of spatial equity. Throughout the past couple years, I have been looking into the distinction between inclusion and belonging. Any space can include tangible aspects of “inclusivity”, but what does it mean to create a space of true belonging? This project has given me further insight on belonging (and lack thereof).

Throughout this process, I was able to dive into the nuances of disabled space/time. The Question of Access: Disability, Space, Meaning, written by Titchkosky, dives into the complexities of space and its meaning-making tendencies.The author writes, “Disability is a way to make disruptions to the normative order sensible, and it does so even for orders steeped in the norm of disruption itself, such as moving; classroom design; and any other space/time issues” (Titchkosky pg. 47). The term “disruptions” came up frequently throughout this reading. Disrupting the “norm” is revolutionary, but for so many it is just living. Students and faculty members have made disruptions to Arntzen Hall since the 60s, but there is much more work to be done, in the physical, intellectual, and intimate/emotional space that Arntzen provides. I hope to portray the undisrupted aspects of Arntzen to draw attention to the importance of looking at rhetorical space through a disability studies lens. I do not offer alternatives, as it is beyond my scope of understanding, but I hope to find ways to pass on the microphone to folks living the disruption.

 I do navigate the university with mental/learning disabilities, but I am not physically disabled; because of this, I am unable to accurately see all the ableist structures in place. I do not embody the disruption I am arguing for, but I hope to articulate it in a way that respects those who do.

Zine: Page 1

Page 1: Image description
            Cover page with title across the top reading, “Braided: Weaving Together Rhetorical Space, Disability Studies, and Arntzen Hall”. Below the text is an image of two trees in front of a large building (Arntzen Hall). Between the trees is text that reads, “Notice! The door is closed: Arntzen’s structural design closes the door to so many. Let us learn how!”

Page 1: Author’s note
            The theme I chose for this zine is “braiding/weaving”. This theme stems from a concept brought to me by author, professor, and equity expert, Anu Taranath. Anu believes justice is a braid; it is a woven piece of art that contains multitudes of creativity, logistics, and humility. The theme is present throughout my images and dialogue. The primary braiding in my zine is of the concepts: rhetorical space, social model of disability studies, and the tangible building, Arntzen Hall. Weaving together these concepts, I aim to introduce and give examples of the physical, intimate/social, and intellectual space in Arntzen Hall.

Zine: Page 2

Page 2: Image description
            The title says, “Acknowledgements – No matter of words could pay proper respects to the Indigenous peoples of this land: Nooksack, Coast Salish, Lummi, and Duwamish peoples. They have and continue to watch over and tend for the land and waters in which WWU settles.” Below the text is an image of mountains cascading into the ocean as the sun sets. Below the image is a text that reads, “Additionally, I have a nondisabled body – I must acknowledge how space has privileged me and skewed my scope of Arntzen Hall. This zine was compiled via observation and academic reading, not first-hand experience.”

Page 2: Author’s note
            Arntzen Hall will always be an inherently imperial space. It is a settlement on Indigenous land, built by the colonial structures of academia. Academia is wildly inaccessible to people from diverse backgrounds, especially folks who intersect with disability. In acknowledging that Arntzen unrightfully sits on stolen land, I hope to draw the audience’s attention to the deeper systems of oppression that perpetrate the ableist features of Arntzen Hall and Western’s campus. Ableism, white supremacy, and heteropatriarchy run rampant through the physical, intimate, and intellectual spaces at Western. The foundations of Arntzen are grounded in genocide and erasure, the design and rhetorical impact of the building follows suit.
            Although I do navigate university with mental/learning disabilities, I am not physically disabled; because of this, I am unable to accurately see the ableist structures in place. I do not embody the disruption I am arguing for. My second acknowledgment is in hopes of recognizing my own positionality in this project. I cannot see what does not impact me or those around me. I took notes, pictures, and spoke with friends openly, investigating ableist aspects of Arntzen, but this zine and my research is not comprehensive or complete. I hope I articulated that in a way that respects those who are impacted everyday by the inequitable structures at Western.

Zine: Page 3

Page 3: Image description
            The title reads, “Meet Our Key Players”. Three “Hello, my name is…” tags stagger across the page. The top one is rhetorical space, then disability studies, then Arntzen Hall. The text says, “Through this zine, we will be observing 3 types of space in Arntzen Hall through a disability studies lens.” A sketch of glasses is in the lower right corner. Next to it is text reading the three spaces: “1. Physical, 2. Intimate/Social, and 3. Intellectual.”

Page 3: Author’s note
            Introducing each “key player” in my zine was more difficult than I anticipated. Aside from Arntzen Hall, these are expansive concepts that would need pages upon pages to truly define. I hoped this page would pull together my idea of braiding; I have included so many ideas on such few pages, ideally this page acts as a summery, explaining how they all fit together.

Zine: Page 4

Page 4: Image description
            The title says, “Physical Space-”. Below the text is a women’s restroom sign. An arrow notes that the sign does include braille, but maps, the elevator, and signs leading to the 5th floor did not. Below the restroom sign is a sign that reads, “closest accessible RR is one the 1st floor of the environmental building”. An arrow points to that sign and notes, “sign is on the 5th floor of Arntzen: 4 floors and 1 building away from this RR.” Text at the bottom of the page reads, “Rhetorically, this sign uses the imperial gender binary- an intimate aspect of one’s identity. The same imperial structures that built Arntzen’s ableist infrastructure.” piece

Page 4: Author’s note
            I chose physical space as the first of the three spaces because it is the easiest to explain/understand. We are all capable of calling out designs that are not wheelchair friendly or visually accessible. The women’s restroom sign stood out to me as the most impactful image. It embodies the imperial influences of ableism and heteropatriarchy. Disability studies is intersectional, so I included bits about the violence of the gender binary in addition to my analysis of the ableist design in Arntzen. When I was strolling around every floor in Arntzen, I was appalled by how few accessible restrooms there were. Additionally, I could not find a single gender-neutral restroom. I got to the fifth floor and saw it was no different; four floors and an entire building away from an accessible restroom! The physical space of Arntzen Hall does not only influence the amount of time it would take a wheelchair-user to get to an adequate restroom, it influences the amount of time they must miss class/work. Space and design work rhetorically in expansive ways.

Zine: Page 5

Page 5: Image description
            The title says, “Intimate Space – Intimate/Social space is made up of tangible designs that produce conceptual ideas – the mainstream lecture hall design produces ableist ideals, stemming from hierarchical discourse.” Below is an image of the Arntzen Lecture Hall 101. Arrows point out that it is the biggest hall on campus. The text notes that the accessible seating is in the back of the class, furthest from the board and professor. It notes how the seats are assembled in a way in which students do not interact with anyone but the professor, giving the professor all the power.

Page 5: Author’s note
            Intimate/social space is a bit more nuanced than the physical space. Arntzen 101 is set up in a rank-and-file system, meaning the seats are situated in columns and rows. Every chair faces the same direction toward the front, where the professor/instructor is. It is well accepted that classrooms have a front and back, no matter where the door may be, creating a hierarchal structure of closest to power, and furthest. The dynamic that is produced by and from a classroom set-up is one of dominance and submission. The language itself, “front” and “back”, is entangled with hierarchy and hegemony. Hegemony, as explained by Marx, is produced by the superstructures in place that conceal inequitable distribution of power. A classroom acts as a superstructure, leading the teacher to power and the students to oppression (for a lack of other language).  

The space of a classroom was designed—produced, to uphold specific dynamics, rules, and boundaries, but it also produces dynamics, rules, and boundaries. These dynamics of hierarchy pertain to all students, but those who are disabled take the brunt. In the image I drew, I noted that the accessible seating was only in the back, furthest from power. This is an isolating design that rather than includes/immerses disabled folks, segregates them.  

Zine: Page 6

Page 6: Image description

            The title says “Intellectual Space – Whether it be academic or not, space informs our existence.us. Arntzen hall assumes so much about its attendees; it assumes nondisabled body, nondisabled means of communication, nondisabled way of processing. The building, like so many university halls around the US was produced by and continues to produce white, nondisabled, academics.” Below the text is an image of a nondescript white man and text that reads, “Arntzen was a white man who was deemed important enough to have a building named after him” “that building was then designed by a white man from Seattle named Ibsen Andreas Nelsen. That same building produces thousands of nondisabled, white academics every year”

Page 6: Author’s note

The space in Arntzen Hall is dark (or florescent), outdated, and uncomfortable. Unsuitable for learning. I thought for so long how to best portray the intellectual space. Academia is often normalized to be for nondisabled, white people. I chose a man, despite white women being the largest demographic of college attendees because white men have held the historic representation for intellectual space for so long. I chose to draw Arntzen himself (or what I think he looks like; I could not find any images of him).

Zine: Page 7

Page 7: Image description
            The final page is titled “Other Observations – of physical, intimate/social, and intellectual spaces in Arntzen Hall and their rhetorical impact: (all through a disability studies POV). Braiding Together Disability Rhetoric and Arntzen Hall,” There are images of a braided money tree, a door handle and a sticker reading, “Automatic Door Caution,” a door with brick flooring, and a rigid desk. Arrows point to the images noting that the handle is hard to grip, the “automatic” door was not function 2/3 times I visited, and the desk is for a thin, nondisabled body. One note, pointing to the desk says, “What does this furniture tell its audience? What are the constraints?”

Page 7: Author’s note
            This final page is simply a compilation of honorable mentions. I spent a lot of time observing Arntzen and gathered far more insight than what could be included in a zine. As I observed Arntzen Hall, I took photographs and made notes of what I saw. Throughout this process I was unsurprised, yet incredibly disappointed by what I found. Moving forward I hope to continue taking note of the ableist spaces around me and how they influence folks’ lives. I hope to consider the disruptive and revolutionary lives of those consistently fucked over by ableist spaces

Questions to Ponder Moving Forward:

How do we cultivate space beyond just inclusion into true belonging?

How does access play a role in being a student at Western? In the school of Humanities?

What does spatial equity look like to you? Might there be opposing equitable spaces? How do we balance these oppositions?

Work Cited

Dolmage, Jay Timothy. “What Is Metis?” Disability Studies Quarterly, vol. 40, no. 1, 2020, https://doi.org/10.18061/dsq.v40i1.7224.

Keywords for Disability Studies, edited by Rachel Adams, et al., New York University Press,
2015. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral-proquest-com.ezproxy.library.wwu.edu/lib/wwu/detail.action?docID=3564341.

Titchkosky, Tanya. The Question of Access: Disability, Space, Meaning. University of Toronto Press, 2011.

Wong, Alice. Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century. Vintage Books, a Division of Penguin Random House LLC, 2020.

Once Upon An Ivory Castle

I have written and rewritten the first sentence of this course journey narrative a dozen times. I think I will just tell it like a chronological tale.  

Once upon an ivory castle, there was an English class. The class was bountiful in credits and aligned beautifully with my schedule, so alas, I registered. To my pleasant surprise, the class was all things activism—a passion that runs rampant through my veins. The class began unlike many, recognizing positionality and introducing ourselves on an interpersonal level. Already, the professor was breaking the fourth wall and making space to include students of all diverse backgrounds.  

The first day of class a rush of nerves spiraled in my stomach and up my spine. It was my first class meeting in person in two years. The classroom was dark, a basement cellar of sorts, but we recreated the space into something much more vibrant. The vibrancy of this space was cultivated through the words we shared.  

“Disability studies,” a subject I was barely acquainted with. Before the start of the quarter, I understood the social model of disability, but did not have the language to articulate it. I understood the dangers of pity and inspirationPorn, but I was unaware of the proper language and the more philosophical/rhetorical influences of disability studies. I was ignorant of the nuance of disability studies. I did not have exposure to many anecdotal experiences of folks with diverse disabilities. I did not know about the exact legislation regarding disability rights. I had minimal knowledge regarding Kiarotic spaces, crip space/time, Metis, or other intersections of disability and rhetoric. Before this class, I had a loose understanding of disability studies, now, eleven weeks later, I feel more well-rounded and have the language and understanding to ask more questions moving forward.  

In the first weeks of class I felt hesitant to give my perspective on disability-oriented topics. I felt comfortable expanding on the greater hierarchal structures and connecting the topics in class to ideas I understood, but I did not want to mis-speak. As the quarter went on, I grew more confident expressing my questions and ideas surrounding the subject.  

Several aspects played a role in becoming more comfortable in class, the key player was gaining knowledge. I gained the proper terms and understanding to participate courageously. Additionally, the dynamic environment aligned with the way my brain functions. The class was flexible in a way that allowed for fluidity. There were no wrong answers, just concepts to be further discussed. I felt comforted by the nonacademic aspects of the class, I learn best visually and through storytelling; our word maps and nonfiction readings/viewings provided an ideal learning environment.  

Overall I came a long way in this class. It was structured in a way that I was able to stay (mostly, with the exception of  sick days) engaged in the content. I know everyone has a different learning style, but if I could learn all subjects through this pedagogy, I would have a much more successful college experience.  

Institutions vs. Community

  1. The title and author of the source 

Ricardo T. Thornton, “We Can’t Go Back” 

  1. An objective summary of the reading 

Thornton begins by stating their credibility as someone who has lived in institutions and battles the inequitable (nonexistent) support system in the United States. They explain their experience in institutions, specifically Forest Haven. They explain the dangers of living in an isolating environment in which individuals are not encouraged to engage in the community. Thornton explains the transition out of the institution and into group homes, then family living. They explain their involvement with Special Olympics. They use this involvement as an example of just how capable disabled people are. Out in community, Thornton is capable of so much more than when they were at Forest Haven. The chapter is summed up and given agency. The author closes by explaining how essential support and opportunity is for folks (especially mentally disabled folks) to grow.  

  1. 3 or more quotations (with page numbers) 

“When people are given a chance to grow and contribute, they grow and contribute” (Thornton pg. 88). 

“Segregating people is always bad; people never grow in those places and are safer and happier in the community” (Thornton pg. 89). 

“In the institution I didn’t get to think for myself. The staff thought for me and made all my decisions. For a long time, no one expected anything of me” (Thornton pg. 85). 

  1. A personal reflection naming 2 or 3 take-aways from the reading 

I was drawn to the distinction that the author made between “the institution” and “the community.” Thornton makes a strong comparison between living institutionally and freely. I think I take advantage of the ways community comes so easily to me. I am given opportunity after opportunity to grow and contribute, which so many folks are not. I was struck by one of the authors closing remarks, “the only thing that is special about me (in comparison to other people with mental disabilities) is that people believed in me and in my potential to learn in spite of my disability, they took the time to help me learn” (Thornton pg. 89). This quote connects closely with the social model of disability. It is the world around the disabled that makes them that way. 

De-Centering Whiteness to Make Room for Black Joy

  1. The title and author of the source 

Keh Brown, “Nurturing Black Disabled Joy” 

  1. An objective summary of the reading 

Brown begins by identifying themselves as a Black woman with CP, who strives toward joy in a world that assumes its absence. She states her argument that emphasizes inclusion within (and outside) the disabled community, in a way that de-centers whiteness. Popular culture sees disability through the lens of a cishet white man who is a wheelchair user and hates his life. This image is a monolith and erases the author; she aims to combat this. Her end goal is joy and the agency to live fully. Using the hashtag #DisabledAndCute, Brown broadcasted her joy. She says that her perspectives often leave people angry or confused, but that. The quote is included below, but she states that days in which joy is absent, it is important to remember, feeling at all is a gift. 

  1. 3 or more quotations (with page numbers) 

“No one should have to be happy all the time- no one can be, with all the ways in which life throws curveballs at us. On those days, it’s important not to mourn the lack of joy but to remember how it feels, to remember that to feel at all is one of the greatest gifts we have in life.” (Brown pg. 119) 

My joy is my freedom—it allows me to live my life as I see fit. I won’t leave this earth without the world knowning that I chose to live a life that made me happy, made me think, made me whole. I won’t leave this earth without the world knowing that I chose to live.” (Brown pg. 120) 

In response to readers who were confused, frightened, or angry, “… reacted defensively because they’re not centered in my story– because I am calling for inclusion that decenters whiteness.” (Brown pg. 118) 

  1. A personal reflection naming 2 or 3 take-aways from the reading 

I thought this reading was a brilliant depiction of intersectionality (intersectionality or die). The author takes note of their identity and experiences, then forms an educated notion that centers the lives of those who most frequently experience marginalization. She is aiming to reframe thinking; away from cishet white guys, to Black disabled womxn; away from the despair life may throw at you, to the joy that exists! I hate commenting on this, but this piece was very accessibly digestible (even my old-fart of a father could read this and gather something from it). Brown successfully drops knowledge and encouragement, while challenging the reader to be better. 

Arntzen Sucks and It’s Zine Time

Three years ago, I helped with the annual Global Health conference on Western’s campus. The theme was Criminalization of the Body, meaning we investigated why, how, and in what ways certain demographics experience marginalization of the body. One of the demographics we spent time on was the disabled community. Ironically, the conference was held in Arntzen Hall, arguably the most ableist building on campus. From there forward, I took notice of the potentially inequitable structures on campus, and I was appalled by what I noticed (that I don’t have to navigate in my bodymind).

For my project, I will be compiling a zine that elaborates on the ableist characteristics of Arntzen Hall. Arntzen Hall was built in the late 60s and still stands as one of the most trafficked buildings on campus. It houses the largest lecture hall on campus, making it a hub for intro classes. Arntzen Hall stands as an example of the discriminatory rhetoric of space at WWU. There are countless other examples that piece together a message for Western staff, students and visitors, and that message is, “if you don’t fulfill our constraining, ableist ideals, you are not welcome here.”  

The zine I am making will break down these institutionalized ideals and offer insight on rhetoric of space. Rhetoric of space is so important to me, personally. I find deep relation to the space I inhibit and value in the power of design. In class, I was struck by the chapter in Disability Visibility, The Beauty of Spaces Made by and for Disabled People. This chapter emphasized the importance of space and what it tells us. Space means so much more than just the architecture of a building the design of a sofa. It is atmospheric and transcendent. It is rhetorical. And for that reason, I will be looking at not only physical space, but educational and social/relational space as well.

My final product will be handmade! I will cut a piece of printer paper, fold it, and fill each page with nuggets of gold from my research. Because a zine can only hold so much information, I hope to write a short essay elaborating on my findings as well.

So far, I have done research and light sketching. I know the general format that my zine will take and am gathering the content. I spent some time researching rhetoric of space, the inequitable systems of education, and inclusive spaces. I recently went to Arntzen Hall and did some firsthand investigating. I recognize that my observations came from a singular place of ignorance. I can only gather the information I think to gather! I play a part in this research in a way that may prevent comprehensive data. I am working through that as I continue to gather data. In a true research project, I think I would hope to include perspectives of folks with disabilities, but because of timing and my current capacity to take on more work, I will have to settle with my perspective only.

Moving forward, I will finish compiling research and piecing together what I learn reading with what I experience in Arntzen Hall. I will be concise in my summary and explain my findings through storytelling and images on the 8 allotted pages of a typical zine.  

Current summary of zine: 

  • Page 1: Title Page – Image of Arntzen Hall 
  • Page 2: Intro to Arntzen, Rhetorical Space, and Disability Studies 
  • Page 3: Outline summary of what will be included 
  • Page 4: Breakdown of physical space 
  • Page 5: Breakdown of intellectual space 
  • Page 6: Breakdown of social/relational space 
  • Page 7: Reinforce what was learned  
  • Page 8: Closing notes and sources 

Arntzen in Action: Producing and Produced by Ableism

  1. Title 

Arntzen in Action: Producing and Produced by Ableism 

  1. Central question 

How is Arntzen Hall produced by and producing ableism and disability itself? 

  1. Product design 

I plan on designing a zine/comic book personifying Arntzen Hall and illustrating a learning experience regarding ableist spaces. I believe visual representation of concepts as heady as “rhetoric of space” are helpful for comprehension.  

Lay out a possible structure. If you’re making a zine, what might go in it? Where will you go for your images? How might it be broken up? 

As attached below, I have drawn up a rough draft of the zine, breaking it up into 8 pages. Each page will include an illustration or design of sort, educational information that I pull from class/readings, and a bit of a storyline (the building learning more about ableism of space).  

Page 1: Title Page – Image of Arntzen Hall 

Page 2: Intro to Arntzen, rhetorical space, and disability studies 

Page 3: Outline of what will be included 

Page 4: Physical space 

Page 5: Intellectual space 

Page 6: Some other space (still working on it, hopefully will come from the reading 

Page 7: Further outlining of what Arntzen learned 

Page 8: Sources 

If you have more than one idea, fully invest in at least one here, rather than only saying a few things about each of them. 

Essentially I have one key idea, but I am breaking it up into 3 sub-ideas that provide further detail.  

  1. Production plan 
    How will you go about creating this product? What are the steps you have in mind? The big dates to keep in mind: 

I will sketch and doodle ideas in my free time (as far as the design aspect goes).  

Week Nov. 1: Complete project proposal 
Sign up for meeting with Andrew 

Week Nov. 8: Read through chosen readings (listed below) and pull out information 
Compile notes/readings from class that pertain  
Complete data collection before meeting with Andrew on Nov. 11 
Nov. 11: I will meet with you with the information I have found and maybe we can go over how I can best summarize/find what’s most important to include.  

Week Nov. 15: Visit Arntzen Hall and do some (first hand) research on the space 
Summarize findings and prepare written responses 
Write-up of my research (what I found in short essay format) 

Week Nov. 22: My work-in-progress will include a full rough draft of the zine and a short essay write-up of my findings. All design aspects will be present, but not refined. 

Week Nov. 29 – Dec. 6: Finishing touches on zine and final edits on paper and bibliography 
Dec. 8: Due date 

  1. Consultation 

You already helped me find readings. In our meeting (early on), I would like to discuss what information should be included in the zine (based on what I have found) and how the storyline should be set up (so that I can include as much information as possible without overdoing the pages). I’m hoping you will guide me to include any forgotten details and fill in the missing parts of the zine.  
Ask me specific questions of things you want to know about the assignment or information you want me to fill in about particular topics. I might be able to answer them or not, depending on how specialist your topic is 

I hope to talk with you about the rhetoric of space and how I can tell it like a story. I have a few questions on atmospheric space and the structures of education specifically in the social sciences at Western.  

  1. Citations 
    Give three possible readings you might reference in your project in some way. No need to say anything about them now. 

The Question of Access: Disability, Space, Meaning 

Keywords of Disability Studies // Chapter Space, Access, Communication, Design, Education, Institutions 

What is Metis // Jay Dolmage  

The Crip Camp Revolution: Making Spaces Accessible

The common American student has very little exposure to disability studies in public education. This lack of curriculum is unacceptable and narrows the minds of young folks across the country. Many of those who do know about disability studies are living it first-hand. Imagine what it’s like as a student who never sees their own experience taught about in the classroom; how isolating that would be. There are dozens of methods that can be used to accurately portray disability studies, but all come from a place that centers disabled voices. Crip Camp is a documentary produced by a disabled man about disabled people. It is the perfect film to introduce students to the world of disability.  

 Crip Camp retells disability through the lens of a revolution—the revolution of access. What begins with a couple of disabled kids at summer camp (Camp Jened), leads to a national headline celebrating the triumph of a 28-day sit-in in a Berkeley Federal Health, Education, and Welfare building. The documentary tells the story of how those kids went from singing songs with a bunch of hippies, to sleeping on federal grounds in protest of their federally sanctioned mistreatment in the US.  

Camp Jened, where it all started, was a revolutionary space. It was a crip space that allowed campers to be fully themselves. Keywords for Disability Studies defines “access” as “the power, opportunity, permission, or right to come near or into contact with someone or something”. Camp Jened was accessible. It provided power, opportunity, permission, and the right for the campers to be unapologetically themselves; and that is why it is revolutionary. This disability revolution was not because of pity for non-disabled people, but rather, because of impassioned, driven, and brilliant disabled folks themselves. Crip Camp is highly relatable, not just for disabled folks, but for any high schooler looking to make a difference.  

Crip Camp provides a deviant perspective of disability. It portrays disabled kids and adults in a way that is anti-normative. It successfully tells a story of disabled high schoolers as they are (which again, is revolutionary). This exposure is essential for high schoolers, as mainstream media often portrays disabled folks as inspirationporn or pity parties. The documentary accurately depicts the campers at Jened in a way that humanizes them, much unlike how they were treated outside the camp. It features segments of their patience, sexual exploration, messing up, desire for popularity, and daily needs through a disability studies lens.  

Accessibility, like that within Camp Janed (and that portrayed throughout the entirety of Crip Camp), is worth fighting for. The advocates in this film bring the audience on their journey of fighting. The revolution is not going to be handed over, Crip Camp tells a story of fighting for justice in a country that claims freedom. Several events are included in the documentary, including the month-long sit-in, the “capital crawl” in demand for ADA, and countless other protests; these events are historic markers to progress in our country. They are hopeful, encouraging, and ideally leave activists hungry for even more! Crip Camp pushes the limits; the limits of spaces, of people, of government. And I push you to use it in your classroom.  

Don’t Mourn for Them, Learn for Them

Don’t Mourn for Us // Jim Sinclair

Summary:

Don’t Mourn for Us is an essay written by Jim Sinclair about the complexities of birthing and raising an autistic child. The author explores the processing period for parents who have autistic children; they break down the misconceptions and reframe thinking from mourning, to learning. Autism is described as foreign-ing. By this, I mean that autism is not a dismissible characteristic, but rather a way of being outside of our preconceived notion of “normal”. Sinclair gives tips as to how to refashion perspectives in a way that honors autism.

Quotes/Analysis: 

“I urge parents to make radical changes in their perceptions of what autism means” (Sinclair pg. 2).

I believe this quote gets to the heart of the essay. This is what the author is requesting. 

“Autism isn’t something a person has, or a “shell” that a person is trapped inside. There’s no normal child hidden behind the autism. Autism is a way of being. It is pervasive; it colors every experience, every sensation, perception, thought, emotion, and encounter, very aspect of existence. It is not possible to separate the autism from the person, and if it were possible, the person you’d have left would not be the same person you started with” (Sinclair pg. 2). 

I believe this quote is why the author feels so strongly about training parents of autistic children. This quote explains the true meaning of autism, which is often misunderstood and then poorly approached. 

“Grieve if you must, for your own lost dreams. But don’t mourn for us. We are alive. We are real. And we’re here waiting for you” (Sinclair pg. 4).

This quote is part of the authors recommendations for moving forward. 

Reflection: 

There are aspects of the language used that made me uncomfortable, but maybe that’t the reality of having an autistic child? I was surprised the way the author closed with a scenario of an alien child, referring to them as “it”. But overall I think this was a very insightful read. I think it would/will take so much unlearning to think in the way the author is recommending. The framework they are coming from is so foreign for so many people, but it is worth sharing. 

Peter Singer is Spooky as Hell

  1. The title and author of the source 

Unspeakable Conversations // Harriet McBryde Johnson 

  1. An objective summary of the reading 

In this reading, the author tells a story of their experience with Peter Singer. Singer is an educator at Princeton University who believes in and fights for assisted suicide and infanticide of disabled peoples. The author is a disabled lawyer, fighting against Singer’s notions, in order to defend their own life.  

In the chapter, the author walks their readers through a series of events—the major ones being: when the author went to one of Singers talks in town, their email exchanges, and the author’s visit to Princeton where they spoke to a class with Singer, toured the campus and had lunch. Each of these events paint a picture of who Singer is, who the author is, and the paradoxical exchange between them. The author brings their own perspective and voice to the writing by inserting further explanation regarding their positionality and beliefs, Singer’s beliefs and actions, and how the two clash/collide. Woven throughout the anecdotal evidence is commentary regarding how the author felt, the thoughts that came up for them, and reflections looking back.  

  1. 3 or more quotations (with page numbers) 

Regarding their differences: 
“To Singer, it’s pretty simple: disability makes a person “worse off”. Are we “worse off”? I don’t think so. Not in any meaningful sense” (McBryde Johnson pg. 10-11). 
“I define Singer’s kind of disability prejudice as an ultimate evil, and him a monster, then I must so define all who believe disabled lives are inherently worse off or that a without a certain kind of consciousness lacks value. That definition would make monsters of many of the people with whom I move on the sidewalks, do business, break bread, swap stories, and share the grunt work of local politics… I can’t live with a definition of ultimate evil that encompasses all of them” (McBryde Johnson pg. 26). 

Regarding non-normalizing:  
“…I have no more reason to kill myself than most people…” (McBryde Johnson pg. 7) 
“…to try to prevent most suicides while facilitating the suicides of the ill and disabled people is disability discrimination” (McBryde Johnson pg. 20) 

  1. A personal reflection naming 2 or 3 take-aways from the reading 

This was such an informative read. I think the way the author spoke about the opposition/togetherness between themselves and Singer was so digestible. They offered complex and deep ways of thinking through a story + analysis lens. I think the story itself was pretty bizarre. It’s one I’ve been sharing with my friends. We’ve been discussing it a bit: how can a person have such specific and seemingly impractical beliefs? How have they not been put in their place? Then again, folks support Trump.  

In reflecting, I am brought back to the idea that Black folks are not responsible for educating nonBlack folks about racism; womxn are not responsible for educating men about sexism. I don’t feel like the author is responsible for putting themselves through that sort of discrimination. But also, they chose that. I don’t know. Lots to think about.  

“Normal” is Bull Shit

What is Disability Studies? And what questions do I have?  

Disability studies is broad, specific, academic, anecdotal, and intersectional; it transcends time. It aims to answer, what is it like to be disabled now? How it was being disabled in the past? How can we improve the world for disabled people moving forward? It is a study of people, places, things, and ideas. Disability studies does not exist in a vacuum; it cannot be seen through a narrow lens, but rather views the world holistically, centering disabled stories and lives. This field is far reaching. Disability studies is a study of race, sexuality, orientation, class, disability, privilege, rhetoric, design, language, limits and beyond. It offers a wider perspective of thinking and progressively looks to embrace and empower intersectional thinking.  

Disability theory is not an algorithmic equation. It cannot be memorized and regurgitated. It is a way of thinking and it’s for everyone. It is story-telling, listening, and amplifying. The way I have thought about it, it’s like putting glasses on your brain. Disability studies sees the world differently than churches, medical labs, and politics; and it acts accordingly.  

An interesting dilemma I am struck by is that I am learning about disability studies in a very ableist place. Higher education perpetrates all the “ism”s, both tangibly and intangibly.  

Disability studies seems to pose more questions than answers.

How, then, can we continue to open the floor for disabled voices in the classroom? How can teaching styles, floorplans, even temperatures be deconstructed to create a space suitable for the masses – including but not limited to disabled folks? How can we question our motives to ensure we aren’t studying out of pity or saviorism? How can we have open-ears but continue to be critical? How can we ensure our actions are not bandaid solutions? How can we actionably move toward a better world for disabled folks that gets at the core of mistreatment? How can we approach disability studies with a wide-reaching theory, while recognizing that disability is not a monolith? 

These questions are posed not to accuse, but to query. I think in the spirit of disability studies, I am called to push forward the spaces I take up. 

Critical thinking, based on our positionality is a huge part of disability studies. It challenges our learned understanding of “normal”. These learned understandings often come from a place of ableism, hierarchy, and individualism, and they must be broken down and unlearned. Because “normal” is bull shit. Disability studies supplies language, action, and conceptual reframing for learners to deconstruct ideas of “normal”. If there is no “normal,” which several authors have claimed thus far, how can we recognize difference? Eliminating “normal” can be misconstrued and create monoliths of understanding, which I am still grappling with. O’Toole, author of Celebrating Crip Bodyminds writes on the complexities normal and how we can balance deconstruction with recognition: 

“Acknowledging that there is no ‘normal’ doesn’t mean that everyone 
experiences disability as a political and social identity. Acknowledging that there is no 
‘normal’ creates a society where difference can be recognized without being diffused or ignored. It does not take away the culture of disability, only adds an opportunity and awareness for us to be more integrated into society as a whole” (O’Toole pg. 12) 

O’Toole mentions integration, which sparks yet another question. Integration can, in cases, lump folks in a way that does not appropriately observe difference. How, then can we acknowledge/recognize without diffuse/ignore?  

The questions keep on coming.

Sex, Beauty, and Disability  

Sex, attraction, and physical beauty are heavy concepts that carry personal and structural weight. Sex and beauty are vulnerable for nondisabled folks who don’t experience marginalization, so bringing in disability is a whole new can of worms. Sex and beauty are often tied closely with white supremacy, consumerism, and unrealistic standards. The rhetoric of the world tells us that disability equals abnormality and abnormality equals ugly. These structures are inherently false, but rampant. Margaret Shildrick wrote on sex and disability in Keywords of Disability Studies. They write about why disabled folks are sexually fetishized or erased, “… we might conclude that it is because sexuality is always a site of deep-seated anxieties about normative forms of embodied being” (Shildrick pg. 165). Shildrick emphasizes that the mistreatment of disabled people comes from projected insecurities. I would argue that those insecurities come from a greater structural standard. Woven throughout Disability Visibility are stories of beauty and sex within the disability community. Stories of lives shared between disabled lovers are portrayed in Sins Invalid as well, a documentary of a performance team in San Francisco. These two learning tools use creative story-telling to enlighten viewers of the multifaceted experiences of disabled people regarding beauty and sex.
 

Rhetoric of space and Crip Space   

As explained in Dolmage’s Disability Studies and Rhetoric, there are myths created about disability that stem from inaccurate rhetoric; rhetoric in the literary sense, rhetoric of space, rhetoric of politics, and rhetoric of economy and culture. The world has given us a language, a physical space, and a general understanding that is built on ableism.

The concept of “crip space” was introduced in Disability Visibility in the chapter The Beauty of Spaces Made for and by Disabled People. Crip spaces are environments that are constructed in a way that not only includes disabled bodyminds, but is centered around them. The concept of crip space is very rhetorical by nature. Spaces produce an ability or inability to exist for disabled people. If an office is on the top floor of a building that only has stair access, a wheelchair user cannot physically exist in that space. If a classroom is taught at the speed of a neurotypical person, that classroom has lost its value for someone who is mentally disabled. No one used their worlds to explicitly tell disabled folks they don’t belong in those spaces, but the spatial rhetoric produced a space in which disabled people cannot exist. s.e. smith argues, “this is precisely why they are needed: as long as claiming our own ground is treated as an act of hostility, we need our ground. We need the sense of community for disabled people created in crip space” (s.e. smith pg. 274).

Healing 

After skimming through my journal, I am struck with the reoccurring topic of healing. This came up several times at the beginning of the quarter. Medical, charitable, social, and cultural scopes of disability have different ideas of what healing looks like. I think the idea of “healing” requires some sort of sickness (something that must be cured). In understanding disability studies, the sickness (what must be cured) is ableism. When You’re Waiting to be Healed is a story that portrays this concept well. It is about a girl growing up in a religious family with Nystagmus. Her family prayed for her eyes to be healed from the “cursed abnormality”. She writes, “I was praying a lot, asking God to heal me so that I could have some sort of normality” (Eric-Udorie pg. 55). She was desperate for her eyes to be healed because the world around her told her that she was the problem. I would argue that disability studies sees our hierarchal culture as the problem.