Susan Wendell's article describes "the social construction of disability" as "the interaction of the biological and the social to create (or prevent) disability." She goes on to explain that the world is structured as though all people are physically strong, all people are shaped the same, as though all people can hear and see equally as well, and as though no one needs to take a rest in a public facility. This concept sparked numerous realizations including the fact that all cars have the same size seat belts despite the fact that no two people are the same size; people requiring a larger seat belt on an air plan must request one in advanced instead of all seats being pre-equipped with such a belt; chairs in classrooms, buses, airplanes, roller coasters, and waiting rooms only accommodate the "normal" sized person; doors to many buildings are extremely heavy and only accessible to stronger people; shelves and clothing racks are arranged at certain heights not accessible to all; very few stores carry clothing for extreme shapes and sizes and therefore, many people are forced to seek out specialty stores (for example, petite and larger sizes); and the fact that many dorms on college campuses are not wheelchair accessible (for example, only a few of Emory's dorms have elevators. However, what if a student on the fourth floor break his/her leg? How is he/she expected to get to his/her room?).
Upon finishing Wendell's article, I tried to think of ways in which society is structured in a way that hampers my abilities. As a lefty, I have run into numerous problems. While companies have developed tools such as left-handed scissors, desks, and baseball gloves, these products are not usually available at general stores or in classrooms. As an elementary school student I struggled to learn how to cut paper for art projects because my teachers never had left-handed scissors and I always bumped into others while writing and eating. I have been forced to conform to society in several ways. For instance, I can use right-handed desks. However, they are uncomfortable and I have had to modify my writing style in order to use them. In addition, in large lecture rooms and the average classroom, very few left handed desks are provided and if they are present, they are usually in the far back corners of the room. Other everyday products I have had to "learn" how to use include the computer mouse, car gears, spiral notebooks, golf clubs, and screwdrivers.
While I have been able to overcome my "disability", I can't help but think of others in much more severe cases. For example, this past summer I was a nanny for 4-year-old twins with cerebral palsy and their little 2-year-old brother who was "normal". Because one of the twins was unable to walk or talk, daily activities were very difficult. Wherever we went, I had to have a stroller and therefore, struggled with entering many buildings due to the smaller doors. I had to take a longer path to the neighborhood playground because I could not push a stroller up cement stairs. Fortunately, there were several facilities catered specifically toward children with "disabilities". Our local Jewish Community Center had just built an enormous playground that was wheelchair and stroller accessible. Therefore, parents with different children could participate in numerous activities that once only "normal" children could. Also, when I brought the kids to the swimming pool, there was a ramp I could walk down while carrying the child who could not walk. Wendell's article brought to light many issues I had not previously thought about.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
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I think it’s interesting how you put the word “disability” between quotation marks to describe your left-handedness. Even though our society still doesn’t do a great job adjusting to left-handedness, we don’t really regard being left-handed as a true disability. In many other cultures and in the past, however, left-handedness was construed as something really sinister (the word “sinister” itself is derived from a Latin word for “left”) and sometimes just wrong.
In India, for instance, traditionally one should only use the right hand for eating, writing, and offering or accepting things to/from other people. There is a reason given, but it comes from a antiquated notion of hygiene that nevertheless can easily be addressed by just switching the “roles” that each hand serves. Yet even in these times, people in India will still frown if I happen to use my left hand for any of these purposes. My mom, who would have been left-handed had she grown up here, was forced to use her right hand when learning to write and eat. Today, she still uses her right hand for those purposes because she was forced to learn that way, but she does everything else with her left hand.
Just goes to show how even what should be a trivial difference, such as which hand one prefers to use, can be construed as deviant or even wrong.
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