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.