Blimix

First thing in the morning, Pretzel meowed at me and raced frantically alongside me, nearly tripping me. That means there's something she desperately wants: Usually food. So I walked with her to her food bowl. It was still full from last night. "What. The hell. You haven't touched your food?" She immediately started eating. I left to fix my breakfast.

I thought that was going to be the end of the story: That my weird, hungry cat had waited for my presence before she ate. But when I returned, she had only eaten a little bit, and then left it. She really didn't want that food. She had met me halfway by trying it anyway, which is really more than anyone could ask of a cat, and which also risks my having to clean the carpet later. I took away the bowl, to reassure her that I was about to feed her, and gave her a different kind of food.

I'm reminded of an essay that circulated on social media a while ago: Beware of men who hate cats. It might have been a summary of this article. "This is a huge part of why men who hate cats are a red flag for me – because their dislike is steeped in a refusal to actually listen, learn and empathise with the creature, and if someone isn’t going to bother understanding why a cat is hissing at them, they sure as hell aren’t going to listen to me explain why I’m mad at them either."

I wonder whether someone who would tell their cat, "You can eat that or go hungry" would also tell their child or partner that. Maybe they would. They sure wouldn't say it to anyone they didn't feel entitled to control. The thing is, you don't get to control a cat. You have to learn to accommodate them. You and they work out ways to communicate with each other: They do meet you halfway on that. Typically, each human/cat pair works out its own pidgin. There is no one way to communicate with cats. (Though it certainly helps to learn how to use your eyes: The slow blink / look away, the squint, and not using wide-eyed eye contact.)

I think that someone I could trust to accommodate and get along with a cat is someone I could trust with people who need accommodations, too. If they like people at least two-thirds as well as they like cats.

Imagine if the medical community regarded broken arms the way they regard autism.

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DSM-V: "Yelping syndrome is a condition characterized by yelping in inappropriate situations. People with yelping syndrome are antisocial. They avoid shaking hands, even when the handshake is offered in good faith. People with yelping syndrome never play baseball."

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At the therapist:

"Doctor, I've been reading about the experiences of people with yelping syndrome, and I can relate to most of it. I think I might be on the yelping spectrum."

"You can't be. You shake hands easily. People with yelping syndrome don't shake hands."

"Shaking hands didn't come naturally to me like it does to most people. But I learned how to get by using only one hand, so I can do it just fine. So can some other yelpers."

"So you're the expert now?"

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Parents: "My son won't do dishes. Whenever I bear hug him, he yelps. My life is so hard! I'm thinking of sending him to behavioral therapy to get him to stop yelping. #YelpingAwareness!"

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The yelping spectrum community: "Yelping isn't a symptom; it's a trauma response. What it feels like for us is that our arm really hurts when people subject us to certain sensations, or demand certain actions of us. We're working really hard to accommodate you. Could you please stop making our lives harder, or at least meet us halfway?"

Society: "LOL, nope."

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(It is really frickin' sad how little was changed to write this.)

It is well past time for able-bodied folks to stop using the word "inspirational" about people who do normal (or even impressive) things despite their disabilities.

This use of the word is offensive. Yes, I *know* that you mean it to be positive, and encouraging, and displaying nothing but appreciation, and that the very idea that you might be insulting or offending people by using it is terribly disconcerting. And yet, the fact that it is offensive is a consistent message that I get from people with disabilities.

(I'm addressing abled people in the second person (at least until the bottom) only because this message is aimed at them, not because I don't expect to have readers with disabilities.)

Before I explain (and don't worry, I will explain thoroughly), let me point out that the fact that, when a member of an oppressed minority asks you to refrain from some behavior or from the use of some word because it is offensive, but you don't understand how it could possibly be offensive, it is your responsibility to respectfully take them at their word, and immediately desist from the offending behavior. It doesn't matter if you meant well, or if you don't think there's any way that the behavior could be offensive, or even if you strongly believe that it shouldn't be offensive. The reason that you and this person disagree is because they have an intimate, profound, first-hand understanding of the subject, and you do not. So don't get defensive about it: Just defer to them, even when you don't understand why.

Back to the topic: Teal Sherer delivers a lovely rant on the word in her web series, "My Gimpy Life," season 1, espisode 3: "Inspirational".

You may want to click that link before you read any farther, because it has the benefit of the buildup and her delivery. (Plus, "My Gimpy Life" is awesome.)

Go ahead; I'll wait.

... You're back? Okay.

She tells off the offenders: "I'm an actress! I didn't come here to be your mascot! 'Oh, you're so inspiring! Such an inspiration.' Do you know how insulting that is? It's like me telling her she's 'so well spoken,' or that you 'could pass for white,' or that this is just a wonderful little feminist Fubu theater company!"

While I do not presume to improve upon Ms. Sherer's work, I will try to make more explicit the issues upon which she touches, for those who hold too much privilege to be able to personally relate to such comparisons.

Imagine that some stranger tells you, "It's really brave of you to go out in public wearing that sweater!" It's obviously an insult... But why? "Brave" is a positive word! It becomes insulting by its implication that this stranger would have expected you to not wear the sweater in public. The word "Brave" manages to backhandedly deliver the insult of low expectations. Just like "inspirational" does. So some person with a disability is doing something fairly normal, like auditioning for a role or practicing martial arts. When you call them "inspirational," you communicate your own low expectations: "I would have thought you'd be sitting quietly at home, but instead, here you are, doing real people stuff! Good for you!"

... Which connects to the fact that praising someone too much for a modest feat is also condescending. You might tell a small child how awesome their macaroni drawing was, but you wouldn't say that to an adult (unless it really was awesome, of course). So don't tell someone how impressed you are by what they've done despite their disability, if you're not genuinely impressed regardless of their disability.

Then there's the "I didn't come here to be your mascot" bit. This person is not engaging in activities in order to inspire you. They are doing it because it's part of their normal life, because they have to do it, because it helps keep them sharp, because it helps keep them in shape, because they enjoy it, or because the alternative is to sit at home and have a really crappy life. None of that has anything to do with you. When you tell them how brave they are, and how that inspires you, you are not only deprecating their real motivations: You are appropriating their situation for yourself. A person with a disability cannot inspire you to go to work despite chronic, debilitating pain and fatigue, or to audition for a role when your legs don't work. To be "inspired" to follow their example is to implicitly claim a comparison between their situation and yours: A comparison that is insultingly dismissive.

That is, unless you have such a disability yourself. It is perfectly okay — even great — for a person with a disability to be inspired (privately or aloud) by another person with a disability. There's no appropriation in this case.

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That's my piece. While the broad ideas come from friends (and from Teal Sherer), the voice I have given it is my own. Reactions to the problematic aspects of the word "inspirational" will vary by the individual. That said, privilege is blinding, so I may well have gotten something wrong or missed something important. I will be open to constructive corrections and additions. Heck, would someone in the know care to suggest alternative words or actions (other than the obvious shutting up) for when the urge to say "inspirational" strikes? Thank you.

And thanks for reading.

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ETA: My friend Rachel made an important connection of this topic to sexism. She writes:

Yes. This is very much like the sexism I faced in childhood. It generally took the form of people telling me how wonderful it was to see a girl who was so rational or who was good at science or so forth. Very clearly sending the message that they wouldn't expect that from a girl, that I was weird for being this way, and that it was at odds with me being feminine. They intended to compliment and encourage me, but it was a terrible thing to do.

I don't usually get the inspiring stuff, now that I'm disabled, but I do now and then. And it often seems that I am "inspiring" for ... existing? For continuing to live. For doing basic life maintenance. Which sends the message that... you expected me to die. Thanks a lot.

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ETA: Erin Tatum has more to say on the subject here: 7 Reasons to Stop Calling Disabled People Inspirational.