Next In Line: The Intersection of Disability with Asshole Customers and What Should Already Not Be Okay

In case anyone that has been following this blog (HAH! Followers.... I crack me up...), I'm no longer a grad student. My program ended up pushing me out (and no Mom, I don't have grounds for any substantive lawsuit). But that doesn't mean I stopped thinking academically about life and situations I may find myself in on a daily basis. Like one I found myself in the middle of on the way home a few weeks ago. 

I stopped at Target for a few things before hitting the highway: lotion, shaving gel, TP, etc. There were a surprising number of people checking out at such a late hour, so the cashiers were all kind of backed up and doing their best to get people out the door in a timely manner. I got in a line with two people in front of me, a gentleman in a suit that I'll call Silver Fox from now on (because he was probably in his mid-forties but damn handsome, and the salt-and-pepper hair gave him a very Richard Gere kind of look) in the middle of being helped. And a younger guy in line behind him, wearing one of these specific Dragon Ball/Z/GT shirts: 

Yeah, you've probably seen them, and to the uninitiated in the ways of the Dragonballs (insert dirty Lord of the Rings joke here, right?), the shirt is a mockup of the outfit the Good Guys wear (think of it as their dojo's uniform) (and yes, pedantic fans, I know, it's called Turtle Training School and run by Master Roshi). This guy also had on a hat with a patch in the image of Totoro on it, so I'm calling him Anime Dude for the rest of this post. 

The cashier (whom I'll call Cashier, so as to give him a "name" here, too) was a man probably a few years older than me (God, I'm officially in my 30s now...), and from listening to him interact with Silver Fox, I could tell he has some sort of developmental disability, accompanied with some sort of mild speech impediment (starting words with hard consonant sounds like hard "c" or a "b" usually involved a stutter). He was being pretty jovial, though, and Silver Fox was smiling and engaging pleasantly in the conversation that Cashier was making; I came in late to the conversation, but it seemed like they were just talking about their mutual love of cheese (I can only presume Silver Fox was purchasing some?). When Cashier told him to have a nice night, Silver Fox said, "You too, son," and grabbed his bag and walked away, smiling.

As Silver Fox was leaving, a woman not much older than me put a hodgepodge of stuff on the conveyer belt: some fruit snacks, an energy drink, diapers, and a thing of baby food. So while I'm a feminist and I don't think a woman's identity is based solely on her motherhood, I'm going to call her Tired Mama (because she sure did  look tired- I smiled at her in an "I get it" kind of way,  and she sighed and smiled back). 

Then Anime Dude's turn came, and after the usual, "How are you?"s were exchanged, Cashier asked, smiling up at Anime Dude (who was a good four or five inches taller than him), "So, that symbol on your shirt, is it Chinese or Japanese?"

"Japanese," Anime Dude said, frankly.

"Aaaah," Cashier said, enthusiastically, "okay, cool! Yeah, when they look like that, I figure it's got to be one or the other, so a fifty-fifty chance, right?"

"It's Japanese,"Anime Dude snapped, kind of jerking his head and his hands to emphasize it. His whole aura was prickly and hostile, and it even caused me to jump back a bit, and I was already a few feet away (because I hate it when people crowd me as I'm being checked out, so I try to provide the courtesy I prefer to others). 

"Oh," Cashier said, looking down now, "sorry." And his body language went from open and excited to closed off and sad, maybe even a little scared. I noticed that while he had maintained eye contact with the Silver Fox at every chance he could, save when he absolutely had to look at the screen or some other thing he was using to do the technical parts of his job at that moment, he was now staring at the things he was scanning, and the counter, and anything else besides Anime Dude he could look at (but, I should note, not anyONE else- he was focused on his station). His shoulders were slouched, his head craned downward.

After a few long, uncomfortable seconds in which  Tired Mama and I exchanged, "Did he really just do that?" looks, I finally couldn't take it.

"Well," I said, toward both Cashier and Anime Dude, "actually," and I tried to sound as authoritative as I could, "that depends. See, Dragon Ball-Z," and at this point, I turned directly to Anime Dude, "and yes, I recognize where that shirt comes from, I get it." And then I turned toward Cashier now, "Dragon Ball-Z, the show that shirt comes from, is a Japanese show, but  the Japanese language has three different  alphabets, one of which is based off of Chinese characters. And the symbols on that shirt," and I pointed at Anime Dude without looking at him, "are from the alphabet based off of the Chinese stuff." At this point, I moved a little closer and turned my body so that if Cashier wanted to, he could look at me and  not have to look at Anime Dude at all while still doing what he needed to in order to finish the transaction (which wasn't much, as they were in the transaction phase at this point). "So, it depends on how you look at it. You could say it's Japanese because it's the Japanese use of that symbol, or you could say it's Chinese because of the original use of it, a Japan-ized version of a Chinese thing, as a way of putting it."

Cashier straightened up like a flower blooming and smiled a little again. "Reeeeally?"

"Yup!" I said, smiling, "I took Japanese in high school, so I know all kinds of stuff about that sort of thing." 

Cashier's smile got even bigger. "Wow, I had no idea! That's so cool!"

"Not really," I said, chuckling, "I'm just a nerd that's into super nerdy things, and fixing mistakes is one of them." I looked pointedly at Anime Dude, who was now the one looking down a little. We made eye contact, though, and then he darted his eyes away.  

"Nah," Cashier said, "that IS cool! My New Year's Resolution was to learn something  new every week, and that makes two things for this week, so thanks!"

"Wow!" I said, "That's a really great resolution! Most people pick things they don't stick to, like losing weight or exercising. Lord knows I have tried that."

At this point, the receipt was printing, and as soon  as Cashier handed it to Anime Dude, who already had his bag, I moved into Anime Dude's space to "suggest" he get out. He went around the edge that's parallel with Cashier, and said, sounding defeated, "You have a good night," to Cashier. Cashier looked a little wary as Anime Dude kind of bowed to me and said, "And you too, ma'am." He looked up at me just before scampering off with a very apologetic look on his face.

I turned to Tired Mama, and she had a kind of smug grin on her own face, as if to say, "Hah, you showed him!"

I spent the rest of my time at the register talking to Cashier about his snow boarding trip from earlier that day and how cool he must be because I know I would spend more time with my butt in the snow than my feet on the snowboard if I ever tried that because I'm so clumsy. I could feel Tired Mama's eyes on me the whole time, and when I finally looked at her, she had a kind of... well... motherly look, like she was proud of her baby bird for flying. Cashier was genuinely funny and earnest, and I didn't pretend to laugh at his jokes, and couldn't have been more sincere when I said I hoped he got some good rest that night when he made it home. 

I knew I was justified. Anime Dude had been a jerk. I mean, Silver Fox had been joking and smiling, and Tired Mama seemed as shocked at Anime Dude as I was, and pleased with how I handled it.

But when I got to my car, I was like this on the drive home:

Seriously, I am still amazed I didn't crash... again... Ugh.

ANYhoo, the whole thing brought up so many emotions for me, on as many levels.

The most general is the interaction between a friendly cashier/person in customer service and an asshole customer. Cashier had been nothing but sincere and pleasant, and for absolutely no reason, entirely unprovoked, Anime Dude snapped at him. I don't care how shitty your day has been, it is 100% not okay to take it out on someone else; and if you catch yourself doing it, you fucking call yourself out and apologize. That doesn't make it okay, but at least it lets the other person know it wasn't them, and it makes it easier for them to move forward.  

This shit happens to me all the time. It's annoying, and I get it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bother me at least a little. I've had people yell at me for nothing and snap every time I tried to appease them, and a few times they were bad enough before starting to tell me everything that they had on their mind (that had nothing to do with the store they were in, by the way), I even said something along the lines of, "Well, that has nothing to do with me, and I'm trying to make this experience as pleasant for you as possible, but that's easier when I'm not getting yelled at."

I actually had something like this just a few days ago- a gal came in and was super curt the whole time we were interacting, and the fact that she was shopping for a trip that was the next day made any solutions I offered with respect to ordering what she wanted impossible didn't help; I didn't want to ring her up, she had been so rude, but I did, and so I said, "And since I seem to have done nothing but get on your nerves and disappoint you today, I'm going to give you this coupon." She got bug-eyed and apologized, saying she was annoyed with her husband when she walked in, that must have been why she was so rude. I never said she was forgiven; I just nodded, said, "Ah, I see," and kept doing my thing, to give her the same message: That I had nothing to do with what happened with her husband, and she had been rude to me for no reason as I was bending over backwards trying to find what she wanted. She felt guilty, and seemed distressed. And to a certain degree, I felt bad, but not very much: She kind of deserved to realize she had been a shitty person to a super nice one, and it was entirely unwarranted. 

So Anime Dude. My pointed look and "mistake" comment that was totally for him, obviously, were meant to send that message: That he had been shitty for no reason to a perfectly, frankly exemplary, person behind the register- because not every cashier actually makes jokes and conversation. And I'm fairly certain  he got the point, what with how he basically ran off with his tale between his legs. And I'm happy about that. Anime Dude's behavior was 100% Not Okay. And us retail workers need to stick together, and any time we can educate the assholes we deal with is a win. Right?

But the other, deeper level, and the reason I was such a blubbering mess on my home has to do with disability. I saw my little brother in Cashier in so many ways. High-functioning, curious, sweet, sincere. For my little brother, being a cashier would be peek achievement level. And I hate it. Not because I think he's "above" that in some snobby way, but because I know he'll be in situations like the one I just saw. He'll get his own Anime Dude, that snaps for no reason, and he'll think  he did something wrong, but he won't know what. And he'll be as sad and apologetic as Cashier was. Because he won't be able to understand that it wasn't him, his customer was just a jerk, unless someone standing right there can tell him that immediately. And even if he tried explaining it later, he may not have the vocabulary and grammatical skills to express it in a way that someone besides a trained professional or a person in our family would understand well enough to reassure him it wasn't his fault. 

And that enrages me and makes me  want to scream and sob and break a whole dinner set or just knock  over anything knock-over-able in my general vicinity. 

I was proud and relieved I was there for Cashier, but I can't be there every time, and I won't ever be able to be there for my brother. 

I hate that we live in a world where customers can just be assholes and get what they want. But I hate even more that we live in a world that then makes people with disabilities like my brother feel guilty for that behavior. That allows them to feel that way. Because they don't have the comprehension to see that they didn't do anything wrong, that they did everything right. A world where people like my brother, people that need it more than others, can't defend themselves. A world where we put people that are already vulnerable, that already experience all sorts of systemic abuse, into situations where they are supposed to tolerate abuse like that.

This actually relates to the whole Orange Debate: Those oranges that are pre-peeled for convenience also happen to be more accessible, so they're beneficial on multiple levels. Well, this is the reverse: The fact that cashiers are expected to just take it (even though corporate handbooks claim otherwise, that they don't tolerate abuse and stuff, their actual definition of "abuse" really just comes down to overtly threatening language and physical attacks; being super shitty and snapping and even insulting doesn't cut it) is doubly-hard on people with lower cognitive abilities, since the people with disabilities working in customer service are even less likely than non-disabled persons to recognize they hadn't done anything wrong. And  by perpetuating this "the customer is always right" bullshit, we're actually perpetuating a system of ableism.

Because the system doesn't require an apology to the cashier. There is no remedy in the system for the genuinely distressed or hurt feelings a cashier with disabilities may feel as a result of the combination of their shitty customer's behavior and their own cognitive comprehension levels. There is no recourse for a person with disabilities that entirely, 100% unjustly believes they hurt someone else. That person just goes on thinking they upset someone, and that customer goes on with their day, being shitty to other people and not getting any kind of lesson on manners, respect, or humanity. 

AND  WHAT REALLY MAKES ME ANGRY IS I HAVE NO SOLUTION. THIS  IS HOW CAPITALISM WORKS. CAPITALISM IS INHERENTLY ABLEIST IN THIS AND SO MANY OTHER FUCKING WAYS.

I mean, think about it. What if Cashier had snapped back at Anime Dude? Anime Dude could then have complained and had him fired. And Cashier is already in a precarious state: Unemployment and poverty rates for persons with disabilities are leaps and bounds higher than other demographic groups, even when taking into account things like equal levels of educational attainment (so to put it differently, a PWD with a BA is less likely to have a job or more likely to be underemployed than someone without one). This is exactly how intersectionality works. Customer service workers are already lower in the pecking order and prone to being treated like crap by a shitty customer; a person with disabilities is more susceptible to them and less likely to at least have comebacks like I did with the gal who was pissed at her husband. I mean, if I snapped back, I am certain I could get another job, were I to get fired. But if Cashier snapped back, if my brother snapped back, not likely, or at least with much more difficulty.

Because I don't buy the "equal opportunity employer" line. If every company that claims they're "equal opportunity" actually was, the statistics wouldn't be so skewed against persons with disabilities. That's capitalism. These companies don't want to hire (or promote) persons with disabilities for any combination of these, and I'm sure many other that I'm forgetting, reasons:

1) Accommodations may be "too costly."

2) They may assume less output from disabled employees.

3) Whoever is doing the hiring at the ground level has at least latent, if not blatant, ableist tendencies that influence their hiring process.

4) They fabricate statistics to avoid investigations by any organization that may be monitoring them for discriminatory hiring practices. 

Etc.

I don't  really know how to end this. Except to say that customers really shouldn't be allowed to treat people working at where they're shopping/eating/whatever like shit, especially for stuff that's out of the hands of the people working there. But it's exceptionally vile when the target of the poor behavior is a person with a disability. And I recognize I'm saying this from my non-disabled, fully-employed position; but I can't help but picture my little brother with a mop at a McDonald's getting screamed at because someone just clogged the bathroom he had cleaned less than an hour ago, and  him crying because he didn't know what he had done wrong and had just checked on that bathroom and it was fine...

Sigh.

On Love, Lying, And Sadness

I have a lot of posts in "draft" form, some closer to finished than others, but I kind of want to ramble a little. As I tend to do, I'm going to open with a story.

I was in a pretty great friggin' mood toward the end of my shift at the office supply place I work at recently. Why? Well, I was offered an interview at a place I would love to work and could see myself making a career out of, more so than my clothing store... and certainly more so than the office supply place (oh yeah... I got a second job... in July...). So with less than an hour left, there was a happy bounce to my step and I didn't even care I wasn't going to get my last break. 

Then, and without going into too much detail, a man needed my assistance, and he was invasive to the point of causing physical contact more than once, and where I felt sexually threatened. And unfortunately, I was like a trapped animal and too afraid to call for my manager, so, long story short, I just did everything I could to get him out of there as fast as possible. When he was gone and I could talk freely to the manager, I kind of emotionally vomitted all over him and another worker/friend about it.* And the latter person stuck with me as I started doing my end-of-shift stuff and I told him something I don't tell a lot of people about myself.

I am a liar.

You, right now.

But wait, let me explain. See, the kind of depression I have, it's not bipolar, no, but I have manic episodes, and I can go from very high to exceptionally low in a short timeframe. When I'm in a good mood, I'm loving and caring and tender and funnny and bubbly and all these other sugary adjectives. So people expect that of me, because that's far easier and more pleasant than pouty. It's even preferable to just... neutral or indifferent. I mean, c'mon, I know not everyone would agree, but if you had to see one of these faces regularly, which would it be:

Option 1

Option 2

Mmmhmmmm....

Which means that if I perform any less than that first choice, they start to worry, and if I ever even let a little bit of a truly dark or down mood show... everyone flips their goddamned shit and thinks I'm going to off myself or something ridiculously off the mark.

"Oh, Gab, are you okay? You aren't smiling today!"

"You're not as cheery as you usually are, what's going on?"

"Is there anything I can do for you? You don't seem like yourself today."

Etc. And that kind of annoys me, because  it says there are these expectations people have of me and I can't set a toe out of line. Like rather than being how I feel, I have to be what everybody wants me to be, instead. It's frustrating, and the moment someone says something like that, I do my best to step back in-line, and I also thank them profusely for caring. Which in itself is another act, because while externally, I'm like

Internally, I'm all

So I fake it. All the time. I'm frequently not nearly as chipper internally as I make it seem externally, but I'd rather pretend and have people off my case than actually let it show.

And, weird as it is, I do this out of love. Because while it's annoying to be fussed over, the truth is, I don't like being fussed over (for that, anyway) because I don't want to burden people with worry over me. The moment I start caring about you, that's the moment I try not to ask much, if anything from you, so the last thing I want is to become frustrating or a bummer or whatever. I want people to feel like they're gaining something from knowing me, now losing. And I know how taxing being close to someone with depression is, if nothing else because I know how frustrated with myself I get sometimes. 

What sucks is that I've become very good at lying like this, though. To the point where I even fool myself sometimes. Where I'm not sure what "myself" should even be like anymore. Am I actually chipper, or do I just think I am because I know I'm "supposed" to be?

Then I go to bed, and my back, shoulders, and neck burn and ache and are sore and stiff. And I realize no, I'm faking it. And carrying all of the negative energy in my muscles. Seriously, I have a friend that's a massage therapist, and she said she could see the lumps and tightness, even without taking off any clothing. 

But here's the kicker. The "I Can't Have Nice Things" part of my brain steps back, looks at the situation (hypothetically- not one in particular... you know what I mean!), and goes

Why? Well, see, and those of you familiar with me and/or this  blog prolly see this coming... It's ableism. No, seriously, it is. Because the whole reason people hide being sad is that pressure they get. And that pressure stems from societal norms and expectations on what "proper" behavior looks like. Why  can't people be sad? Because sad isn't "normal." People fake not being depressed because they don't want to be looked down upon, and because we treat people with  mental illness as if they're burdensome. So if course I'm going to be afraid that me being depressed around others is going to cause a burden, I'm trained to think it will because they're trained to treat it as such.

And the twisted thing is, the people getting all helicopter on me/anyone else, they're doing it out of love, too. Because yes, they most likely really, truly are concerned with  the person. But the trouble is in the phrasing. I'll retype the above statements for clarification's sake, but I want you to really analyze them yourself before I spell it out for you:

1) Are you okay? You aren't smiling today.

2)You're not as cheery as you usually are, what's going on?

3) Is there anything I can do for you? You aren't yourself today.

1) Admittedly, the least bad. But the focus is on the lack of smile, pointing out the absence of an expected behavior. And it's that expectation part that makes it ableist. Implicitly, "you aren't smiling like a normal person today." Switch "smiling" with "walking" and it'll make it a lot easier to grasp. 

2) This one is the worst of the three I chose. Here, the big problem is the assumption that it just has to be something specific. This is a real big fuckup that ableism has caused, this false notion that depression or sadness always has to have a specific cause. And as someone with depression, I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to try to explain to someone else that no, nothing in particular happened, I just feel like shit, can we drop it? Usually I don't bother trying and make something up or pick something going on as the catalyst for my sadness at the time, even if it isn't. (Or I just use the timelessly classical line of, "I'm just tired/have a headache.") Because usually if I try to say I dunno, I just feel icky, the other person starts digging and trying to come up with something. "Is it X? Is it Y?" Because we just have to know what causes it. It's very medical. And God, it makes a person feel even worse to be asked something like that if they can't give a precise answer, because again, we don't want to be a burden or let the other person down by not fulfilling yet another expectation (it's bad enough we weren't cheery for them). Of course, sometimes there may indeed be a legit answer to give, but I just hate that people's instinct is pretty much always that there is. 

4) This one's in the middle. Starts out right, but turns, because again, the question pointing to an absence of expected behavior is present. And that's crap. 

But the thing is, the expectations and need to find a "cause," they come from love. At least, I like to think they do. Because people want each other to be happy- we're trained to believe happy is the Best State to Be In. And we're also trained to believe that if we can figure out a cause, we can find a cure (just look at all of the hype over vaccines and autism, even though the original paper that started it all was pulled, the researchers lost their licenses, and one of the authors retracted and apologized). So if being sad is a "disease" or "illness," then we need to make sure people don't "get" it anymore! It's for their own good, right? We want people to be happy, so we push and prod and do what we're led to believe will be helpful.

But ultimately, it's not. At least for some. For people like me, anyway. 

I'd like to see a dystopian satire where being happy is considered an anomaly, while feeling meh is the societal norm. I'd love it, but I fear most people wouldn't get it. Happiness vs. sadness isn't usually associated with ableism, so even people all up in arms over stuff like accessibility and services may not think like I am about it. But here's the thing. If disability itself is porous (which lots of disability scholars themselves say) and you can go from having it to not to back again, I don't see how temporary bouts of sadness shouldn't be considered temporary disability. I mean, yes, there's a difference between clinical depression and being in a crappy mood, but both are looked down upon for the same reasons, reacted to in the same ways, and those societal responses come from hierarchical, socially constructed institutions that dictate how we "should" behave on a regular basis. 

And I don't like that. I don't like that at all. I should have a right to be sad if I want to, and a person that loves me shouldn't automatically assume the worst, nor should they feel like it's their obligation to "fix" the problem. 

Now, do I think we should thus ignore people that are sad? Pretend nothing's going on? No, I'm not saying that, either. I'm just saying we need to be careful how we approach people that "aren't acting like themselves"... and avoid using phrasing like that. Rather than alluding to past behaviors (which means assumptions or expectations), observe current behavior. "You seem a little down, is there anything I can do for you?" Or rather than assuming there is a specific cause, give the person room to say there isn't. "Anything in particular, or is it just a general icky feeling?" I can't anticipate every "wrong" inquiry and every "right" counter, but I'd just encourage you to think carefully about how you talk to someone you think is sad. Because it may not just be "sad," it may be manic, it may be clinical... 

And, honestly,  it's not your business to know. If the person wants you to know, they'll tell you. If you know them well enough, you may be able to figure it out on your own. But if you can't, for whatever reason, don't assume, and don't insist. 


Of course, this can get tricky. I know I sometimes insist I want to be alone when all I want to do is be held. When depression makes us say the opposite of what we want or need, the best case scenario is the person on the other end knows us well enough to see through that. It's difficult, though, because society has trained us all to be such good liars.

We lie  because we don't want to hurt the people we love. And because we're afraid they'll hurt us if we're honest.  We lie because no, sometimes we don't really know what is wrong, we feel like it's us in and of ourselves. And we don't know what we want, we don't know what we need, we just know we're sad and we wish we weren't. But sometimes, we're lucky, and we get someone that loves us enough to know to do this, and that we trust enough to allow it to happen:

That's love. All of it. 

And painful honesty. It's much harder to admit you don't know why you're sad than to make something up or pretend you're not. Honesty is so much more difficult than lying.

And it's joyful, even if sorrowful, too. Because both people know only true love and a bond too tight for words could produce that much trust and loyalty. 

So, what am I getting at, here? I'm not saying I expect blanket forts every time I'm frowning (although dude, that would be kind of awesome...). And I'm not asking anyone to walk on eggshells around me or anyone else they care about. But I guess I just wanted to get things off of my chest, about myself, and about how I think this is a Thing, and not just something I deal with.

And because my neck and back hurt so badly I can't sleep right now. Which says I've been bottling a lot up. And given how much I've cried lately, that's saying something.

And I'm refraining from the disclaimer about all of the positive things I'm happy and grateful about, too, because that's another ableist piece of garbage- I shouldn't have to justify feeling depressed or counter-balance it with a bunch of happy stuff. We don't go around saying a bunch of bad stuff to counter the effects of being in a good mood, it's crap that we feel the need to counter bad ones. I do have stuff to be happy about, and I'm legit thinking of it right now. I'm just sad and can't get out of it and am rambling. And tired, so tired, in every way. 

*This incident of sexual harassment isn't the focus of the post, so please don't freak out. I'm fine now, and my manager and I figured out what to do if he comes back. 

Being Cool vs. Being Awesome During "Autism Awareness" Month

So one of the online "communities" with which I identify is that of Nerdfighteria and the Nerdfighters the group of fans formulate(d) around the brothers John and Hank Green. Not to brag, but I was one of the first subscribers to their online social networking site, the Ning (link to the right), and really enjoyed "hanging out" there for a while, even had a dude admit he was in "Nerdfighterlike" with  me after  a while.* But like with any online group, the more members it got, the worse it became- trolls invaded, and I honestly can't remember the last time I looked at the site, let alone logged into my account. Somehow, I can't remember how long ago, I found out about a Facebook group called "Adult Nerdfighters," and I once again became an early-on member of that group. I rarely scroll through the page or do much engagement with "discussions" there nowadays (if I post stuff, it's funny gifs or videos) because, once again, a bunch of assholes have sort of ruined it.

I'm in two offshoots of Adult Nerdfighters, though. Nerdfighteria Kitchen, where people just talk about cooking and food. That one doesn't get controversial or mean, and it's still relatively small (I even posted a picture of myself in my Batman apron and got lots of positive response, while I know the trolls in the AN group would have called me fat or something). And on a whim at the beginning of the month, I joined another group called "Single Adult Nerdfighters,"  which is also fairly small and, so far, hasn't been too bad**. 

But leave it to a discussion about disability to piss me off and feel like I'm back to the same old situation, where a person that refuses to listen but insists on "discussing" pisses me off. I'm hoping it was a fluke, but there is reason to stay, and I'll get into that now.

So a thread about velociraptors  (because of this video) started to become about how we, as nerds, often make ourselves look, um, silly, and get made fun of. And one of the people in the group said this in the thread:

"Yes, it's hard to be cool. It's so much easier to be awesome."

And I was like, 

YES!

That's exactly what I love. The Nerdfighters I can relate to, the ones I think  really get it (because if the Brothers Green knew about the trolls as individuals, they wouldn't like  them, I'm certain), are like that. They're encouraging, supportive, empathetic, kind, and open-minded. They care if someone is hurt, and if they think they caused the hurt, they go back and apologize.

So in the bad thread I mentioned, a few people were spouting ableist dogma about how ASD needs to be cured, how it means there's "something wrong" with the brain of the person with the diagnosis, and some of them were buying into the myths of savants and crap like Rainman. There was a lot of "supposed to" and "wrong" in the language- very ableist, no doubt about it. And they were talking about how great Autism Speaks is. 

That made me want to vomit. Autism Speaks is one of the most guilty parties when it comes to the spread of negative stereotypes and discourses about ASD specifically, and disability more generally. I hate that stupid blue puzzle piece- it implies there's something missing from the person with ASD, or the lives of their family. That's not true. Not true at all.

I should know. My brother has ASD.

Now okay, I'm not saying every person with ASD or their family should agree with me. But Autism Speaks focuses too much on the grief aspect when it comes to families, and not enough on practical support or acceptance.

And they have a close bedfellow in the National Autism Association- both discuss the "epidemic" of autism in their literature, have videos and ads that look like horror flicks (tell me this isn't creepy), and don't actually provide direct support for families like they profess they do. Oh, they'll take your money for a toolkit (say one like this ), but how about this to sort of get the gears going:

I get really sick of organizations like Autism Speaks and the National Autism Association because they spread the message of fear and make it seem like all happiness is forever lost out of your life if you have a kid diagnosed with ASD. They perpetuate the scientifically unfounded myth that autism is linked to vaccines, as well as that it's "on the rise" because of some external factor leading to more people having it.

Autism isn't "spreading." People are just testing for it more, and specialists are better at recognizing it. What used to be just "awkward" is now in the DSM as "Asperger's."

This negative treatment of ASD is what disability scholars refer to as the "medical" model of disability. It focuses on diagnosis and finding a "cause" and "cure" for the respective anomaly; it frames disability as a tragedy that the caregivers have to deal with; it relies on the "expert" opinion of someone without the disability, and thus it doesn't really acknowledge the person with the disability theirself very much. Any reference to them is abstract and indirect. If you've ever seen a doctor do the recording for an autopsy in a movie or on a TV show, it feels like that- disconnected, observing as opposed to actually participating and giving two shits on a personal level. (For my take on some other models, see my piece about Iron Man 3.)

So I hate it when I see crap from these people, and I hate shopping during April because stores sometimes join the bandwagon and have clerks ask me if I want to donate to AS or NAA. I went off on a defenseless young woman at TJ-Maxx last year over it (I did go back into the store and apologize to her, explaining myself, and she actually seemed to listen, though, so maybe it helped?).

Imagine my frustration when I saw an email from the NAA about a Chili's event (I'm on their email list because of some research I still have in the pipeline, if I ever finish my Ph.D.). Fortunately, I didn't get the chance to do much, because I was about to start our seasonal group meeting at the store I work at. Instead, I deleted it really quickly, intent on sending a counter-message via Twitter and Facebook about how people should AVOID Chili's on that day because reasons. So then imagine my haughty satisfaction when I got home from said meeting to see a retraction email, the content being:

"Please disregard our previous email. We are very sorry to report that Chili's has cancelled tomorrow's event."

I'd like to think it's because enough people gave Chili's negative feedback, but I'm sure there were other reasons. Reasons related to things like "logistics" and "profit," rather than discourses and hegemony and stigma and acceptance and accessibility. 

So what does this have to do with Nerdfighteria?

Well, this is how I'm awesome, not cool. This, right here.

I mean this blog, for one thing. I know it's just a blog, but if at least one person sees this and reconsiders their approach to disability, autism, or ANYthing because of what I'm writing, then job well done, self.

I also mean in general. I'm a mama bear, and I stand up for people that can't do it for themselves. I send counter-messages whenever I can.

So here's my counter-message vis a vis AS and NAA:

Autism Acceptance. 

"Awareness" implies danger. It implies caution and fear. It comes out of the mouths of non-ASD persons.

"Acceptance" implies inclusion. It implies warmth and  happiness. And it comes out of the mouths of persons with ASD.

Sure, we're more "aware" of autism, which is exactly why more people are getting diagnosed with ASD each year. It has nothing to do with diet, with vaccines. Not directly, at least. I'm willing to say that maaaaaaybe there's some abstract link, like  if the kid's genetic makeup already has these zillion other things, it makes ASD more likely- but direct cause, no.

Here's the thing. The people that buy into groups with messages like AS and  NAA, they're grieving. And that's fine. Because of ableist paradigms embedded in our norms and institutions, discovering your kid  has a disability today is a shock, a blow, and yeah, can feel pretty tragic.

But the next step is acceptance. If an organization wants to help families,  it needs to help them with actual support. With teaching them how to adapt so that they and their kid can live the fullest, and, here's the key, HAPPIEST, lives possible. Will it be easy? Probably not. But acting like all bets are off will never give that family the chance to embrace any joy that comes their way, or will taint said joy with the ominous clouds of disability and autism.

So in April, I try to remind people that we only  think there's something  "wrong" with ASD people because society places a higher normative value on a specific set of behaviors, one that excludes behaviors associated with ASD. "Wrong" is the wrong word to use. It should be "different." Or "atypical."

In April, I promote full inclusion. Meaning being understanding if a person doesn't quite interact like everybody else, not calling them a jerk or something. I do my best to try to encourage others to be understanding and open-minded.

In April, I remind people that you can't "catch" autism, and you certainly can't "cure" it. That disability is natural, and we shouldn't  decide how salient a person's disability is when it comes to their identity- that the salience of said disability should be  up to them and them alone.

Brief example.

So I usually use People-First Language, but some persons with disabilities self-advocate differently. They will say "autistic" instead of "with autism," and that's their right. Out of general respect, as a person without a diagnosis, I try to use PFL when talking about specific diagnoses; I do, however, say "disabled" when talking gernally, as that's what I've come to realize is acceptable both in academia and the real world. If I ever write a dissertation, I could do a huge chunk on that very topic. But my point is, I let the anomalous individuals decide how I refer to them. That thread I mentioned had a lot of non-pfl, and it irked me. I didn't see the "c" word, but I did see "handicapped" once.

::shudder::

So to get back to that ableist thread. I did my best to point out the problems I saw in the diction and assumptions being made, backing down when it seemed a few people were just not listening. But just before I stopped notifications on the thread, a gal that had already declared herself ASD in the thread (and that had also been going at it with the meatheads) posted this:

"[Name] thanks for posting about problematic language. I've been told implicitly and explicitly all my life that my natural way of being is Wrong--and this is coming from someone who studied and mimiced [sic.] and practiced in the mirror so much as a very young person that I didn't get diagnosed until I was 32. Most people would never guess I'm on the spectrum, because I learned so well to hide the parts of me that are "wrong." It breaks my heart to think of all the millions of people who have fought and are fighting so hard every day to be Not Themselves because they've been assured that their brains are Wrong. We aren't Wrong, we're Different."

She desires acceptance, not awareness-she wants to be who she is and not hide. I felt pretty good about that- I had reached her, even if she wasn't the target of my contribution to the discussion. I helped her feel like there are people that do care and would accept her for who she is, which is a wonderful, caring, amazing Nerdfighter. It took a lot more guts to "out" herself than it did for me to get all jargony, I'll say that now.

So. I call on you, for the rest of the month, I ask you to consider donating to groups like Autism Acceptance, or the ones listed in the infographic; to counter someone talking about "awareness" with a message of "acceptance." You'd be doing something really positive, and believe it or not, at least for a moment, fighting back against ableist paradigms and institutions. Try not to forget that, and also, 

*Obviously that went nowhere. Turns out,  he was a closet MRA and anti-feminist. I shudder at the memory. He unfriended me on Facebook because I wouldn't say he was right, I think about rape culture...? I don't even remember, douche.

**I'm still contemplating it- I see more stuff about dates and relationships that are current and ongoing here than I did in the other group, and the whole point of joining was to commiserate with fellow singles about, you know, being single, not congratulate people that aren't for their accomplishment(s). Sigh. We'll see...

Parking Wars

I live in an apartment complex, on the second floor of my building. Just over to the left is a disability space, then the dip, then another disability space. A few months ago, two cars kept parking in said disability spaces constantly, even though there would be spaces to either side and directly across the way. I finally got annoyed and left notes on their windshields much like this one, a note I left Saturday night (at about 12:30) for a new neighbor that has been in the same disability spot for a week:

The pun is new, though- we'll see if I do that again

(Also, the license plates on the car are Minnesota plates- so this person is obviously quite familiar with snow. The first draft of the note had a VERY snarky comment about how I'm from Las Vegas and park further than they do, so they, being from Minnesota, need to grow a pair and walk. I realized that was a bit... forceful... and toned it down for the one you see there, obviously.) 

At this point, I feel like I should make a stack to just keep on-hand for general purposes. The first time I did it for those first two neighbors worked- they haven't parked in either disabled spot since (as far as I'm aware, anyway). And I'm happy to report that when I stumbled outside, coffee-less, to let River do her thing Sunday morning at 8, the car had moved. So that's three-for-three. Maybe I should make some sort of thank-you sticker (I'm picturing the universal handicap sign and adding a smiley face somehow, with a speech bubble thanking the person... too snarky?).

If they hadn't moved, no, I would have no qualms in calling the police and giving them the licence plate number and vehicle description and stuff. Hell, not that I think they'd care enough, but it'd be so hilarious if the cops showed up at their door, "Now look, see, we've been getting complaints that you keep parking in this disability space..." 

Now yeah, I may not have a disability, and sure, it's cold- I certainly don't like the walk from my car to the building (or vice-versa). But I get so fed up with people insisting on using the disabled parking spots, or disabled bathroom stalls or changing rooms. Or sitting in the seats reserved for the elderly and disabled on the bus. And the worst is when someone with a legit claim to the thing shows up and the person occupying it gets huffy. I've seen it a million times on the bus- some asshole college student rolls their eyes and mumbles under their breath as they change seats when someone with a walker or a stroller or even a gorram wheelchair- the living version of the image on the seat- gets on the bus. I once had to ask a woman to vacate our big changing room in the store I work at a while back so a woman in a wheelchair could use it, and the former grew extremely uppity and had absolutely no shame- she gave both me and the woman in the wheelchair icy looks before scoffing loudly, tossing her head, and slamming her new room's door shut. I'll have you note, all of the other changing rooms had been open at the time, too- she had just gone in there on her own and was miffed when I asked her to switch.

I know what you're thinking:

REALLY?!!?

Yes, really.

So before you think I'm some fearless crusader, flitting about like some disability-rights fairy and kicking people out of stalls, seats, and parking spaces all the time, I'll be real with you and tell you that I actually had trouble sleeping last night for a lot of reasons. Sure, there was some serious wind rattling the apartment and River kept shooting her head up and grunting at the window and walls. But I was also imagining my neighbor coming to my door, demanding to know if I left the note or not and pushing their entitled position, fishing for an ally in their insistence that they deserve that spot just as much as anyone, etc. It was one of those terrible daydream-type things (I say "type" because it was, obviously, night) that I couldn't get away from- every time I tried thinking about something else or clearing my head entirely, it came back, this image of a stranger yelling at me and telling me they'd done nothing wrong, deserved to park there, didn't like threats, etc. It was a scary thought, and I legit almost went back outside to retrieve the note to prevent it from coming to fruition.

Because while I'm all huff-and-puff on my blog, I'm actually a very non-confrontational person, to the point where I'm often reamed and insulted if I ever try to point something out to someone else. I get flustered when someone Schopenhauers me- which is the goal, to be sure, but still. So watching myself cower and start crying like that in my head, that seemed like a very plausible outcome if the person did come after me like I was envisioning.

Especially since if they were that pissed, they'd be the type to not listen to anything I'd have to say, too, even if I was somehow able to convince them I hadn't actually written the note but was playing Devil's Advocate for the writer. 

But what I'd do is try to explain to them that when a building doesn't have ramp access to the inside and elevators inside, it's de facto discriminatory toward persons with mobile disabilities- and blocking the ramp access to the building by parking in it does the same thing (because even if the inside was totally accessible, a person with a mobile disability wouldn't be able to get up the curb and thus not even be able to enter in the first place). 

I know  I seem petty and like I'm butting in. I have no idea whether or not anyone with a mobile disability lives in my building, or if anyone that would need that dip has tried getting in before. But that doesn't matter, and it's not the point. Access is about opportunity, not just direct need. It shouldn't take someone with a wheelchair showing up for a person without one to move- the latter shouldn't be there in the first place. 

Now let me tell you a more positive story.

On another day while working, this time at a different, busier location, I ran out of regular fitting rooms and a guest that was walking just fine asked to try some clothes on. So I let her into the disabled stall, when a few minutes later, a woman in a wheelchair showed up. When I asked the first woman if she'd be willing to come back out so someone in need could use that stall, she obliged warmly and we stood there chatting jovially for a while until one of the other changing rooms opened. 

That's sort of the unspoken rule about disabled changing rooms (or seats on a bus or in a theater or something)- non-disabled use them as a last resort with the understanding that they'd have to give it up if someone entitled to it came forth. So it went over just fine, because the gal in the big room was cool with that norm.

Parking spaces are different, though. Because unless someone was standing there, watching the parking lot, there'd be no way of knowing if someone needed the space- and anyone  that would, well, they'd probably settle for what they could and either make the longer route to the dip in the curb, or find some way to heave theirself up- or, you know, just give up, too.

Bathroom stalls are trickier- if you're behind the door of the stall, you wouldn't know if someone else needed it, and anyway, it's not like you can just quit mid-dump to let someone else use the stall, even if they did knock or something. 

I remember being a little girl and exiting the disabled stall to face an old woman with a walker, staring at me with brimstone in her eyes but not saying a word- the unspoken admonishment was prolly something like, "Young lady, how dare you?" I felt so ashamed, knowing I should have used one of the three regular stalls, instead. I'll still use a big one every now and then, if and only if every other one is occupied, and I've waited for a regular one to open up without entering the big one before. 

But I'm not guiltless, is the point. I don't think anybody is, really. And sure, maybe some of us are guiltier than others. But people being more respectful and courteous and conscientious, and willing to step aside or move over for others... I think that's what's important. And sure, I may have been annoyed that my neighbors kept taking handicapped parking, I'm actually really, really excited and pleased they've all moved their cars out of the way, and that none of them have done it again. I can't do anything to help the rude gal that scoffed at me for asking her t change fitting rooms, but my neighbors and the gal that switched, they're the ones I root for- and I hope they pay it forward and lead by example with their friends and families. And then maybe we'll reach the point where even without universal design, mobility is a little less difficult for people with physical disabilities. 

"Not Your Typical Campus Shooting"

That's a quote from the head of the Purdue University Police Department during their final press conference the day of my campus's shooting, Tuesday, December 21, 2014. By this, he meant that it wasn't a case of a person going in and randomly firing at people- the perpetrator went in, sought out the target, fired, then surrendered. This officer and the other people answering questions never said it out-right, but they danced around "pre-meditated" whenever talking about the shooter's actions.

This piece comes in two parts. The first, being my direct response to the university itself. Keep in mind, I wasn't on the campus- I was literally locking up my apartment to leave for my office when the first alert went out. The second will be my more general thoughts on these acts of violence and  what they say about us  as a society and culture, and what I think we can do to fix it, or at least make it less bad.

PART I: Poo-Poo Purdue

I’m sure anyone reading this from Purdue itself is aware of the timeline of events, so let me just break down my thoughts, here. When it comes to the on-the-ground response, the emergency teams did a superb job of handling the situation. They were on the scene within minutes, had apprehended the suspect even before the university had finished sending out its initial wave of alerts, and expediently evacuated the EE building, as well as helped get anyone unaware of what was transpiring indoors and out of harm’s way. My hat goes off to Purdue’s police and fire departments, as well as those of West Lafayette. And my thanks to all of the first-responders on the scene. Heart-felt and  sincerely.  

Now, the bad news. I find it… disconcerting, at best, that I, as a member of the Purdue community, was given conflicting information on my safety during the day: I was told in a text it was okay to move around as normal at about 1:30, and then again at 1:45, but the website referenced in those texts told me the opposite, that campus  was  still on lockdown- and  the  website remained as such until nearly 3pm. More than one person confused about what to do texted me, asking for my advice. (And that advice was, of course, stay inside- better  safe than sorry.) The text came pretty quickly, at 12:12, but what little info we got didn't add up very well. And on that note...

There was really just so little information sent to me directly, too- what’s up with that? I would have felt better getting the info from Purdue, not from checking out news websites because I happened to have access to the Internet, a circumstance not everyone else would have been in. My mom had more up-to-date info from watching CNN than I had from Purdue. That’s just wrong- I and every other member of Purdue’s community should have had been given real-time updates from Purdue. Our safety and emotional/mental well-being were on the line. 

Also, why take the surrounding buildings off lockdown if police are still searching and patrolling? Friends of mine on campus said there were still choppers circling after the all-clear was given at 1:30, and I finally got antsy and had to turn off the computer after over an hour of  listening  to police continue to search new campus locations and dig deeper into suspicious activities via their radio streaming site. If the police weren’t done checking the campus out, why let people wander around? What would have happened if  this shooter had not, in fact, been acting alone and someone else was hurt before the police finished their checking all the other buildings? What if they had all-cleared it too soon and there were more casualties?

Here’s another problem: I heard from a few people stuck in classes that their professors kept trying to teach during the whole thing, and I know of fellow grad students with  TA positions for classes that take place during the 3 and 4 hours that had to go to said classes- and, surprise surprise, more students stayed behind than  went. What compels a prof to go ahead with class on a day like that? I don’t think this demonstrates heroism or dedication- I think it’s short-sighted, narcissistic, and dangerous. If you think what you’re teaching is so important that it’s worth risking the lives of your students, you don’t deserve to be a professor (or instructor) in front of those students. And if some of these professors kept at it because  they  genuinely  don’t know what “shelter-in-place” means, then Purdue has some serious training it needs to do for its faculty- because even if the students somehow avoided it in school (which maybe international students, okay, but kids that grew up in the States have no excuse, really, unless maybe homeschooled…?), the people in charge of the classrooms should know that “shelter in place” means close and (if possible) lock the doors, close any blinds, keep quiet, etc. In drills, sure, keep the lights on, but for crying out loud  there was an actual shooter on campus on Tuesday. They should have closed the doors and blinds, turned the lights off, and awaited further instructions from the university. This was NOT a drill. A Boilermaker DIED, and you kept lecturing. Think about that. And be grateful for the tenure system and that I'm not in charge of Purdue, because if I was Purdue's president and I heard you had tried to keep jabbering at your students (and were probably befuddled or put-off by them, gasp, not paying attention to you), I would do everything I could to fire your ass.

I think the worst is that classes weren’t immediately cancelled for the rest of the day. If “they” knew someone was even just injured in a shooting, let alone lost their life, it would be “respectful” to cancel classes as soon as the info came out, not four-and-a-half hours later. Plus, they wouldn't then have had to go back and tell faculty to pretend classes the day of the shooting never took place the next day in an email ("Of course, we will all need to make adjustments to ensure that no faculty and students are penalized because they were unable to teach or attend class in the aftermath of yesterday’s terrible events. You will need to inform students of your plan to address this unforeseen circumstance. In particular, you should inform your class that you will not be counting the results of any quiz or attendance given for yesterday’s session, and that they will not be held accountable for any material covered."). Purdue ret-conning, back-peddaling, whatever you want to call it- Purdue cancelling classes over four hours later is deplorable and tactless, and the reminder to faculty not to hold students accountable for the  day of the shooting shouldn't be necessary (on its own and  also in conjunction with what I said about profs insisting on holding class between 2 and 4:30). This was no false alarm- someone died, and we knew that hours before the “discussion” (what the provost said they started having once they knew someone was hurt) amongst administrators led to canceling class. So why does it need “discussion” to cancel classes the rest of the day when someone is killed on campus? Discussion? I’m not remotely the only person at least surprised by this, if not flat-out appalled. This is an opinion piece, and my opinion is that canceling class for the rest of the day when there’s a shooter on the campus should be protocol, not the result of a “discussion.” Sure, maybe what happens the next day can be something the old boys’ network can debate, but expecting students to go to class when they’ve just been on lockdown and oh yeah, someone was shot and killed- and then expecting them to be top-notch is also narcissistic, or at least short-sighted- and the  latter is why  those same people had to send an email excusing anyone that, understandably, didn't go to class or didn't do all that well while there. It's just... Ugh. It was tactless for them to wait that long to cancel, and fumbling and pathetic that they had to excuse it after-the-fact. Disgusting. I can't wrap my head around why the first move wouldn't be  to cancel classes, I honestly can't. All I can think of is it's the bureaucracy wanking off again and taking itself too gorram seriously- which puts a bad taste in my mouth, because  that'd mean the fat-cats cared more about their own authority and "channels" or whatever than the well-being of their students. And even practically speaking, the utility in holding class an hour after a shooting would be small enough to render it nonexistent, or  even negative (because, no doubt, without the reminder not to, profs would hold students accountable for the material from that day because they "held class" as "normal," never mind  that  no "normal" student would be  able to function "normally" in class right after a shooting). 

I hope to God there isn't a next time. But in preparation, protocols need to be changed: 

1) The text alerts need to be in-sync with website and email updates. Conflicting information could get someone hurt.

2) DO NOT  give  an all-clear until police  are done searching buildings. The nearby  area may  have been clear, but how could they be certain there wasn't another  shooter? They wouldn't be  able to report that until they had finished their larger sweep, so let that happen before letting people go about their way. 

3) Cancel classes for the rest of that day the moment a legit report of a shooting is confirmed. I am still trying to comprehend why this  is even necessary to say. 

4) Make sure all faculty and staff have been through their own  shelter-in-place drills, or at least told what to do if  it happened for real, even if only during  an orientation  training of some sort for newbies. That way, even if  their students don't know what it means, they will.

5) Figure out a way  to penalize faculty that end up not doing the whole  "shelter-in-place" thing properly in the case of a real threat, once the threat is over. Again, drills are one thing, but actual, genuine threats are another, and they need to be taken seriously. So whether it's making them pay fines or do university or community service, or I dunno, mess with their sabbatical or something... I don't care. Just make it clear that they're in deep doo-doo for endangering their  students- because that's what that behavior means: Endangerment.

6) Send more updates, via text and/or email. Sure, some stuff needs to be kept private for a while, but letting the Purdue community know what kind of progress the police are making, what the suspects are up to, etc., and as immediately as possible, needs to happen. Again, I should have heard from Purdue, not CNN, that the suspect had been apprehended. 

PART II: Gun Control, Mental Health, and the Intersection of Ableism with Capitalist Individualism

So here's where it'll get rather controversial. Every time we have a shooting, the focus is always on the guns. Guns, guns, guns. And sometimes, the "crazy" bogeyman myth creeps up,  too, wherein the shooter is painted as a psychopathic freakjob that finally loses it and that's that. As if it's a random, one-time, isolated incident.

And while sure, the Newtown guy wasn't in cahoots with the Virginia Tech guy, who had nothing to do with the Columbine kids... There is a tie binding all of these shootings, and any other time when a person has walked into a building and shot anybody, whether it's one targeted person like what happened at Purdue, or a whole butt-load of random victims, like Virginia Tech. 

It's mental illness. Improperly cared for mental illness, I should say.

And let me say right now, I'm not saying it's the "crazy peoples'" fault. There's a sad, painful note of truth to the, "I couldn't take it anymore!" line that's supposed  to be funny or offhand (like when Carmine Falcone uses it after faking a suicide attempt in Batman Begins)- for whatever reason, these people reach a tipping point, and their moral compass gets broken, and they either don't remember that hurting other people isn't okay, or they cease to care. 

What I see going on is people who would benefit from quality mental health services don't get them, and without the proper coping mechanisms and lifeskills needed to function without hurting people, they snap. See, here's the rub: Western, and especially American society, has this weird, counter-productive stigma on mental health services. And I attribute this, at least in part, to our rugged individualistic, pull-yourself-up-by-your-boostraps wet dream we can't, on the whole, let go of. Because if we admit we have depression or mental health issues, let alone seek help for it, we're admitting we  aren't good enough to make it on our own - and the whole point of the American Dream is to make it on your  own, without help from anyone. Depression, anxiety, mental health problems, they're seen and treated as weakness. We blame the people who have them for not taking care of themselves, for being  too sensitive; we tell them to "get it together," to "keep it to themselves," to try harder. I love this image from the blog Robot Hugs: 

There are myriad others like it on the interwebs, but the point is the sorts of things that get said to people with mental health issues are being said to people with entirely physical ailments (if you can't tell, by the way, the one in the orange shirt is  shooting insulin or something, not  stabbing their hip with a nail- it took me a few seconds to see it, too, don't worry)- and the point is  to see that those statements are ridiculous in those contexts, and, really, ridiculous in the context of mental or emotional fragility, too. 

And don't those sound kind of like the individual liberty, ra-ra, capitalism rhetoric we can't seem to turn down in this country? Messages that we aren't tying hard enough when we're stuck in a minimum wage job, that our individual circumstances don't matter if we're unemployed... The way we treat (and don't treat, yup) mental illness is a part of that masturbatory obsession with personal responsibility. That it's somehow someone's own fault if they're depressed, just as how it's their own fault if they're in need of social assistance. Context? Psh. Factors  out of their own control? Nonexistant- every person is in charge of their own destiny! 

So then what? Well, just like how our pathetic excuse for a "welfare" system comes with all sorts of public  shame and stigmatization, so too does receiving  mental  health services. And, just as how the former is major hard to get, quality mental health services are hard to find, too. I think generally, our personal feelings are supposed  to be private, and it's not up to the government or society to help us out- because by golly, the government has NO RIGHT to tell me what I should be doing!

You: Wait, but providing the option for  mental health services isn't telling people what to do, it's just giving them somewhere to go, right?

Society: NO! If there were quality mental health facilities and services everywhere, free and available to the public, they'd just get backlogged with people taking advantage of it, and we'd create a culture of sissies that suck their thumbs and can't take the slightest setback in their lives!

It's basically  the same argument against a public healthcare system, and I'd say even against paid family leave and basically any form of financial assistance.

But what sets it apart is that during any "discussion" revolving around the question of the kinds of mental health services in the U.S., there's always this accompanying assumption that people with mental health issues are broken, under-par; that they don't measure up and thus aren't worth it, anyway. Why bother if they're already not good enough? And now, if you know me, you prolly see where I'm going and why it's ableist: There's an assumption that they'd be whole and Good if they didn't have their mental, emotional, etc. disabilities, see.  See? 

YES!

While it's hard to talk about the "Disability Community," since that doesn't really exist, I do believe, from my experience on the ground in services for the disabled in myriad ways, it's the invisible disabilities, the non-physical that get stigmatized in such a way that leads to the ailments going entirely untreated. It's a lot harder to ignore a physical disability or to blame someone with one for having it, but mental and/or emotional ones? Well what "causes" depression? What "causes" anxiety? People get blamed for "letting them happen," while nobody would really ever be accused of "letting" theirself get hit by a car or be born with CP.

Story time (sort of): Every  semester I've taught (so far- we'll see later), I've had at least one student come to me after their first quiz about disability accommodation. And the reasons they wait are always the same: They were "afraid" to tell me or that their peers would find out; they didn't want to seem like they were getting a handout; they were embarrassed that they'd need the help; they're ashamed that they have suchandsucha problem; etc. These signals come from the crap those people in the comic above are being told: People with disabilities are seen as "moochers," as in the same category as "welfare queens" and "bums" sucking the teet of Lady Liberty dry.

So no SHIT they're afraid to seek counseling, or to go to the professor to get the accommodation they're entitled to by the gorram law, nonetheless.

And even if it's not a consciously articulated thought, "I better not see a therapist, otherwise people will judge me," they subconsciously know it's bound to happen. And that negative view of mental health problems comes from a terrible intermingling of capitalist and ableist rhetorics.

So then this means, again, that services are lacking as it were, and that getting them is so hard, a lot of people don't.

And I'm not saying the stigmas on mental and emotional health issues are the only thing causing shootings like the one at Purdue- I'm not that bad. What I am saying is that gun policies aren't the only ones we should seriously revamp if we want violent incidents like this to stop. Sure, I'd be in favor of better gun controls (although I don't think they should be banned, no). But that wouldn't stop people from going on killing sprees when whatever mental health issues they have take control- there are tons of other ways to kill people other than guns, after all.

Our inability to address the mental health of our own citizens is, of course, more directly related to ableism. 

But really, when anyone says we're lacking quality mental health services, it shouldn't seem like a stretch for me or anyone else to say it's related to ableism. I mean, c'mon. Did you really need me to tell you that?