Episode 85: It's Not A Compliment

TRANSCRIPT OF “IT’S NOT A COMPLIMENT”

[rock guitar music]

MALE VO [00:03]
This is Bad Attitudes.

[rock guitar music]

LAURA [00:20]
Hello friends and strangers! Welcome to another episode of Bad Attitudes: An Uninspiring Podcast about Disability. I’m your host, Laura.

As Inigo Montoya might say, “I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

We’ve got our first subscriber and our first supporter shout out! Thank you Ruky Saavedra for your support! Huge thanks for being the first person to subscribe! What an exciting notification to get!

Want to hear your name on a podcast episode? I’ve created membership tiers on my Ko-Fi page and every subscriber will go on the “supporter shout out” list. Only two tiers so far; more will be added after the holidays. Tiers start at $2 a month, and you’ll get access to special membership content and perks! Go check it out and sign up! I’m excited to have some really cool stuff available for you in the future!

And if membership isn’t for you, no worries. You can still contribute one-time donations via Ko-Fi, and every donation will get shouted out in an episode!

If you like this episode, share it and the podcast with your friends. Word of mouth is absolutely the best way to grow this podcast and our community. And please make sure you are rating and reviewing the podcast on your preferred platform. It really helps me out!

For questions, comments, or ideas, email badattitudespod@gmail.com or reach out through social media. Follow @BadAttitudesPod on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. 

As always, I want to remind you that disability is not a monolith. My experience as a disabled person is going to be different from the experiences of other disabled people. I am one voice for the disabled community but I am not the only voice.

[02:12]
[rock guitar chord]

As a wheelchair user, people say a lot of dumb, weird, and downright rude things to me. But the one I hate the absolute most? “Wow, you’re really good at driving that thing!”

You can’t see me right now, but my eyes have rolled all the way back in my head.

I know why people say this. It’s because they have no idea how to act or REact when they see someone using a wheelchair independently. Maybe even just seeing a wheelchair period short circuits their brain, I don’t know. But, for some reason, it’s the only thing they can think of to say to me. 

It happens a LOT in medical offices. I guess medical professionals are used to having to push anyone using a wheelchair through their offices, but I don’t need that, and it’s unusual for them. But it’s still not a compliment.

I’ll say it again. Telling me I am good at driving my wheelchair is NOT a compliment. You don’t compliment someone on a skill they had to develop in order to survive. You don’t compliment someone on their bargain-hunting abilities if they grew up in poverty, and you don’t compliment a wheelchair user on the fact that she isn’t ricocheting off the walls.

Think about it this way. Assuming you’re a typical ambulatory individual, why did you learn to walk? Sure, some of it is biological imperative. But, realistically, were you given a choice? Probably not. I’m not saying anyone FORCED you to learn to walk, but I’m sure there was parental encouragement involved. After all, they weren’t going to be able to carry you forever. You weren’t going to be able to be strapped into a stroller forever. If you wanted any kind of shred of independence or normalcy, you had to learn to walk. It was a necessity.

Same for me. If I wanted any kind of independence, I had to learn to use my wheelchair. If I wanted to be able to move through the world, I had to learn to use my wheelchair. If you compliment me on how well I drive my chair, it’s the same as if I complimented you on your walking ability.

“Wow, great job on staying upright on those spindly things. Good for you.”

Ridiculous, right?

Can you imagine if I went around complimenting every ambulatory person on their ability to stay upright? That would be a hilarious social experiment, to be honest.

Of course, assessment of my driving abilities isn’t the only compliment that isn’t a compliment doled out to disabled people. It’s just the one that particularly gets my hackles up. Another one is, “You’re so strong,” typically toward individuals dealing with some kind of ongoing health crisis, like a cancer diagnosis.

What exactly is my other choice, Karen? To lay down and die?

Human instinct is to survive, and if we want to survive, we have to be strong. Being strong in these situations isn’t really a choice, because most people facing these kinds of health issues WANT to survive. Life will out.

Don’t compliment people on the things they had to do in order to survive.

Another one? “You’re so brave.” For what? Leaving the house? Allowing myself to be seen in public? 

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the doctor for my annual check-up, and the woman who was taking my blood committed a trifecta. She complimented my driving, called me brave, AND said I never give up. If I could have melted out of my chair in sheer disbelief, I would have. I didn’t say anything because she hadn’t taken my blood yet, and we don’t antagonize the people with needles. But I honestly felt like the top of my head was going to blow off from pure shock. NO ONE has ever voiced this many ableist cliches to me in so short a time. I couldn’t believe no one else was there to witness it. I had no one to share incredulous glances with.

Let me just say, this lady was incredibly sweet. I don’t think she really knew what she was saying, and she genuinely felt she was giving me compliments. And those factors can make it difficult to respond in the moment. English was not her first language, although she spoke it very well and was easy to understand, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure if she would comprehend any response I would give, because you can bet your ass it would have been sarcastic. With most people, it’s pretty easy to tell they’re making comments about my driving because they literally can think of nothing else to say, and that wasn’t the case here.

Now, I’m no expert on small talk. In fact, I hate it. But if you can’t come up with something to say besides, “Wow, you’re really good at driving that thing,” what are you doing with your life? I have gorgeous purple hair! I love hearing people say nice things about my hair. I’m almost always wearing a funny or clever graphic tee. Nothing to comment on there? I have a visible tattoo on my wrist. Why not ask me about that?

Or, have they flipped through their index of potential niceties and decided, “Nope, I think she would really appreciate being told she’s good at using a wheelchair.”

I don’t. I do not appreciate it.

Try harder. Do better. Disabled people are not the sums of their disabilities. When you speak to a disabled person, unless it is ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY, how about trying to not comment on their disability AT ALL?

If you want to have an actual, meaningful conversation about disability, I’m all for it. But, if your sole purpose is to just try and make a disabled person feel better about their lot in life, for everyone’s sake, keep your mouth shut. If you want to be nice to a disabled person, think of it as “being nice to a PERSON.” Because that’s what’s happening. You’re talking to a PERSON.

Thanks for listening, and I’ll talk to you, A PERSON, in the next one.

[08:51]
[rock guitar music]