Sunny School Days

I had sunny school days (and cloudy/rainy/humid/cold school days). Sunny school days (meaning everyday of school – yes I was one of those weirdo’s that loved school) were happy, fun, enjoyable, and bully free. You see, for me, when I was a child going to primary and high school I was only ever bullied once. Once. Did I have an anti-bully aura? Did I come across as tough and angry enough to scare a bully off? Nope. I don’t know why I wasn’t bullied, the only thing I can put it down to is that I was quiet, friendly, good at a sport (apparently this is an important thing), and generally congenial with all (boys, girls, teachers, parents). The one time I was bullied it was by a boy called . . . let’s call him Wally, and he was picking on my “Tool-box” pencil case (which every kid had, so why mine was deemed pickable on, I don’t know) and he called my “the tool-kit man” or something like that (it obviously wasn’t a traumatic experience as I can’t even remember exactly what he said) all across the playground. Me! I just ignored him because I was mortified that he was drawing unnecessary attention to me. I didn’t respond because I didn’t want to interact with him on any level. Guess what? Almost to the other side of the playground he gave up and went on his merry way, never to pick on me again. AND that is my only ever experience of being bullied in some way.

I know that kids (especially disabled kids) can be prone to being bullied because they are different. I don’t know, really, how to help these kids, except to talk to them about my own life. To let these kids know that school is such a small part of your life, that you can pick yourself up and be a success, even with or after hardship, is the only thing I can think to say. You see, I am not an expert on bullying, I am not a teacher, or a parent (I am an Aunt, however, to six adorkable nieces and nephews). I am just me, with my stories of living with disability, with my one little story of being bullied, with my huge success stories and my need to inspire others.

(image via Dream Girl)

I am writing this post on a whim, on a cloud of meta-thoughts that have cascaded from the news about the rising level of disability hate crime in the UK. I am sad to think that people – even once they leave school – seem to think that it is okay to bully someone who is different to them . . . by that definition shouldn’t these people be bullying everyone (and even themselves), as everyone is different in someway. On the flip side, everyone has many similarities, and the bullies should realise this also – that disabled people are just like them. You see, we all have feelings, emotions, dreams, and goals; we are the same in this respect. The other thing to note with bullies is that they obviously don’t realise (or they do, but just want to ignore it) the fragility of their own lives. They can’t acknowledge the fact that tomorrow they could end up in a wheelchair, wearing a prosthetic leg, or wearing a hearing aid. No-one can be “safe” from the land of disability . . . so treat those with disabilities with respect, support, and dignity, cause one day you (or that bully, or that runner, or that teacher, or that mum, or that shop keeper) could end up disabled and having to adjust to a brand new life (complete with ignorant bullies picking on them).

Tags: disability, disabled, bullied, hate crime, school

Limitations and reality = working towards solutions

In the last few days, here in the UK, a controversial policy has been put forward where disabled and severely ill people will be put “to work.” Quite literally, these people deemed incapable of working will be sent out to companies to essentially “work” for their benefits. No regard seems to be being given to the circumstances that have placed these people on disability benefit, no thought given to the possible health ramifications, to the set backs that may hit people in rehabilitation, the physical and mental difficulties that may result from enforced labour. I wonder what is this world coming too? Can you tell me?

What has astonished me though is the people power that is forcing companies involved in the “Workfare” scheme to reconsider their position. Some companies have already pulled out of the scheme and others are calling for changes being made to the scheme to make it purely voluntary (This at the moment is affecting those on Jobseekers Allowance). This people power will hopefully put to rest the idea that disabled and ill people can undertake indiscriminate work (virtually for free).

I have worked before and I am working towards working again. Work is something that I wish to do, but work that I am physically able to do as well as work that is meaningful to me. By this, I mean work that fulfills me and allows me to make some positive changes in the world. Working for Tesco’s, stacking shelves, will not do this. Firstly, it would be physically impossible for me to stack shelves, secondly, I would be drained both physically and mentally and struggle to live a good quality of life. I know it would be worse for others.

I don’t want this to be a pooh-pooh post though. I want to leave a positive taste in your mouth, a light in your eye, and a warmth to your heart. I want to be positive, and imbue hope in the human race. I want to lead you to believe that humans can be empathetic and understanding. How can I do this? I am doing this already, by cultivating the beginning of a speakers career – a job that I can do both physically and mentally. A job that allows me the time to rest my body, rest my mind, and work at my own pace. A job that gives me meaning and gives my life meaning. You see, I have led a full life already, and have many stories to tell, and if I can use my stories to inspire and motivate, then the life that I have had and the life that I dream of having can be purposeful, can be good. I want every disabled and ill person to feel this way, to feel that their lives are not worthless, that their lives don’t have to filled with drudgery and hardship. Instead of being forced into work that may be detrimental to their health, disabled people should be supported, encouraged, listened to, they should be helped to develop their own lives, their own dreams, their own destinies, AT their own pace. I am willing to pursue this dream, are you?

(via Jodie Andrews)

It’s crazy!

It’s very crazy, I know, that I often feel I have to exaggerate my limp for the benefit of “convincing” others that I am truly disabled? Here is little ol’ me, with my prosthetic leg, feeling like that isn’t enough to justify me using a disabled park, claiming helpful benefits, and generally asking for help when I need it. In these experiences, however, it has always been the disabled parking that has made me want to exaggerate my disability to extremes. Do you want to hear my process of parking, getting out, moving away, coming back, getting in, and driving off? Okay? Here we go . . .

I pull into the disabled parking spot and immediately start to avoid eye contact with people (I don’t want to invite questions and/or disapproving looks), I then make a HUGE show of having to lift my prosthetic leg out of the car (this is something that I have to do anyway, but as you will soon notice, I start to make a HUGE show of everything that marks me as disabled), then, once I am out of the car I make sure that my shortened right arm is waving around – like a white flag – to announce to everyone that I do indeed have physical issues. Then I lock my car and start to walk away (still avoiding eye contact), and as I walk I exaggerate my limp to the point of resembling a buoy bouncing around on an ocean wave! Rocking to and fro, I can often feel my back starting to hurt at the extreme movement and my head start to spin. I must get away from the car and the parking spot as quickly as possible so that I can go back to just me and my disability, so I can rid myself of the unjustified guilt I feel for using a parking spot that is available for me to use. It’s the same when I return to the car; like a switch turning back on, once I hit the car park, the little arm is out waving it’s surrender again, my limp amplifies to the point of discomfort, and all eye contact is avoided at all costs. Once I am back in the car I get out of there as quick as I can. I can’t breathe again until I am back on the open road, away from potential confrontation.

. . .

Is this fair? As has been implied in government and media spin – that disability is a lifestyle choice – I would like to let people know that, well, no, I didn’t choose to be born with limbs missing just so I could get the “good” parking spots. My missing limbs just happened, no ones fault, no ones design, or desire, it was just a thing that happened and I am fine with that. Why can’t everyone else be fine with that? Why do I feel I have to justify myself in todays society? Why should I have to feel threatened for doing something that has been put in place to help me?

At least, if someone does confront me I can show them my prosthetic leg, show them my missing limbs, and hopefully put to rest that fact that I am entitled to use disabled parking because I actually, desperately need it. But what about the people whose disability is not as visible as mine? I know a few people who are looked upon with suspicion, who are at greater risk of abuse because their disability is not visible, like mine. This is also not fair. Why should people be able to make snap decisions about a persons health and physical ability based on the way they look, I mean look at my experience – even with my visible disability I still feel I have to justify it by swinging my shortened limbs around like a crazed loon and walking like I am extremely drunk.

What are your feelings on this topic?

On a lighter note, I picked up my new car yesterday -

Isn’t she pretty? You know what she represents to me? FREEDOM!!!!!

I am kind of a bit angry today . . . (sorry to be a negative nancy)

But my anger today is residual (or part of) my anger from last night upon finding out that the government here in the UK has used an archaic law to overturn all that the Lords fought for in protecting the human rights of those with disabilities.

 

(Not me, but expressive of where I am at with this benefits reform farce . . . image from madstreetz)

It is frustrating that in a time when the rights and lives of the disabled people have come so far that we seem to be slipping backwards to Victorian times when disability was a burden on society. I can see it already, the parents who can’t afford to look after their disabled child anymore having to send their child away, disabled adults who are faced with the decision to either go into care or kill themselves, mothers who discover that their baby in the womb will be born with a disability and having to opt for an abortion as that is the most financially stable option. Why has the government decided to take this backwards stance? (It surely can’t be to save a few bucks, especially in face of the fact that there are multi-million dollar companies out there that owe over  £90 billion in taxes . . . yearly! If you want to read up more on this check out this awesome site – UK Uncut).

What really gets my goat . . . (am I using to many cliches? apparently when I am angry I go cliche mad) is that David Cameron has had experience with disability – his son, Ivan, had epilepsy and cerebral palsy. I cannot understand how someone who has been directly impacted by disability can be so cruel and harsh to disabled people. It is a riddle that can only be understood within the confines of money (unfortunately). You see, David Cameron has never had to worry about money, never had to worry about how he could afford to look after his disabled son. If Ivan had lived to be an adult I doubt that he would have had to rely on the government for support to live life in a meaningful way. Ivan was very lucky to have the support of his parents, not just emotionally, but financially – a majority of disabled people don’t have this financial luxury. It is here where the crux of the problem with David Cameron arises. You see, I cannot read his mind, I cannot be a fly on the wall of his kitchen as he sits down to eat breakfast with his wife and chat about his plans for the nation, but from his actions I can make an educated guess as to why he thinks disabled people will survive on the cuts that his government is proposing. My guess is that financially he never had to face the excrutiating fight to provide the best for his disabled child or himself as a disabled adult, he has never had to worry that disability would have such an overt impact on his life . . . and yet, he still claimed Disability Living Allowance for his son. And now he is taking away Disability Living Allowance from a lot of disabled people, he is taking away the financial security for people who either can’t work, or struggle to work as an able bodied person would and could. He is assuming that the support will come from somewhere else. An assumption that could prove fatal.

I was born with my disability and I am proud of my disability. I am who I am today because of the experiences I have had in relation to my disability. I am not a “scrounger” or a “burden” on society, but I do need societies help. I need it to be recognised that I do have it a little harder than your average Joe, I do find moving about exhausting (I always fall back on the statistic that above knee amps use 80% more physical energy that Mr Average Joe to move about), I do get back aches from my awkward gait, I do get pressure sores from my prosthetic leg. I didn’t ask to be born this way, but I was. Now can I get a little support with that? A little empathy? A little understanding? We’ll see Mr Cameron if your benefit cuts will succeed in bringing down the countries debt, or if the insane financial pressures you are placing on the minorities will go “KA-BOOM” in your face. Here’s to the “KA-BOOM.”

(This post is just the beginning of what could become ongoing political rants, if you have any comments, ideas, thoughts, facts that you would like to share regarding disability and politics, please share!)

Suffers, brave, overcoming, am I really these things?

I read a lot. I mean a lot. And what I read a lot of usually involves disability in some way, whether that be through theory books, blog posts, or articles. Therefore, I like to think that I have some kind of expertise on the language that is commonly used within the realms of disability, and what I find, language-wise, is that certain words annoy me and make me question: just how do the public understand the disability experience? and more importantly in the context of language, how do they articulate their understanding?

You see, I am going to have a go at writing a descriptive sentence of me, as if I was outside of my experience and looking in as an able bod, okay, here we go -

“Elizabeth Wright, who suffers from Congenital Limb Deficiency, has proven to be a brave soul in overcoming her lack of limbs and proving an inspiration to the rest of us who are not disabled.”

Okay, you get that? Well, can you see where I am feeling uncomfortable with the language being used? Can you? Lets dissect. “Elizabeth Wright, who suffers from Congenital Limb Deficiency,” yes, my name is Elizabeth Wright and yes I have a body that is labeled as Congenitally Limb Deficient, but I am no more suffering from this limb deficiency than I am suffering from a pimple on my nose (of course, for some people a pimple on the nose may be the end of the world, but not for me!). I agree that life can be a little more difficult, but I don’t sense myself as suffering anything, in fact I am very fortunate to be in the situation that I am in (when I look at my life compared to those with disabilities in developing nations, check out CBM – the overseas disability charity for further information). “Has proven to be a brave  soul,” I am no more brave than your regular young, white, middle class woman who is trying to make her way through the world. Brave is such an odd word because the people that are described as brave don’t often feel that they are brave, most of the time they are people just getting on with things (such as a soldier in the army, who I think is very brave, but they would probably tell me they are just doing their job). So yes, I am not brave people, I am just trying to get on with things and navigate this world in the best way I possibly can. “Overcoming her lack of limbs,” I am not overcoming anything, I am living (and by living I just so happen to be living with an arm and a leg missing). I have never felt that I am overcoming anything, because for me, the way my body is, is normal and everyday. “Proving an inspiration” . . . now this one I like. Why? Well, I find that within most contexts I am not upset with the term “Inspiration” because I hope that, regardless of me having a disability or not, that I could and would be an inspiration to people, just as many people are an inspiration to me. Further analyses needed? Inspiration means – to feel moved or stimulated to do something. Inspiration means to me – to move or stimulate people into action to change for the better. I like to be described as inspirational, because that is my aim when writing blog posts and talking to people etc.

 

So, that is just a small sample of language that I am either not entirely comfortable with when used as a descriptor for myself, or (in the case of inspirational) that I find can describe anyone who motivates people to better themselves and achieve. Language is so important and must be so carefully thought through when being used – but how many of us tend to just leap in and say what first comes into our heads, without thinking about the impact of what we are saying. As I said at the beginning of this post, I read a lot, and I am very aware of how easy it is for people to slip into the “disabled” rhetoric and use the words “suffers,” ‘brave,” and “overcoming.” But in becoming conscious of the way that we use these words and who we apply them to, we can perhaps create change in the perception of disability, hence opening up the world even more to the disabled and accepting that this is life – and that essentially, aren’t we all just getting on with it?

 

(image courtesy of HappyPurpose)

Changes to Disability Living Allowance: how will life change for me?

Hello, this blog post will probably make more sense to the British readers of this blog, but everyone else can have a read and a think and a say if you like!

 

Now that I have the obligatory disclaimer(?) out of the way, I can move onto the guts of a post that has been whirling to and fro in my mind for a few weeks now. But firstly you need some back ground info – a few years ago now I decided to invoke my British passport (yes, I am one of the lucky few Australians who has a parent who was born here in England, thus entitling me to a British passport and all that comes with that) and move permanently to the UK. This move had been a dream of mind for ages (for years actually), because the thought of living in England was like a fairytale. England was full of mystery and excitement, it had London!!! And was in close proximity to European delights, such as Paris!! Life would be magical and fantastical and oh so much more fun than in Australia. SO I moved. I moved a world away from my family and friends and set up home (with thankfully a very good friend who also happens to be an Aussie) and embraced what was now my life.

Oh the adventure people!! My life has twisted and turned unexpectedly, I thought I would do my PhD, but no, I am now attempting to make connections and build a network of speaking opportunities to, yes, talk about myself. My dream life is in the process of becoming reality – sometimes I have to pinch myself to see that it is all real. How did she do it? you might ask. She has a disability and she is getting to live her dreams and achieve the unachievable!! Well people, I have put it down to the fact that when I first arrived in the UK I discovered that they had a fantabulous, amazeballs system in place that would help to equalise the playing field for those with disabilities. This system is called the DLA (disability living allowance). Now, to be fair, I couldn’t apply for it right away, I had to live in England for a certain amount of time and then I had to prove that I was here to stay to try and contribute to English society (of which I am trying to do, really really trying to do . . . anyone need a speaker out there???). When I could apply though I applied, got it, and then was blown away by how much easier it made my life.

 

You see, I essentially am missing half my body (an arm and a leg mostly missing would constitute missing half my body wouldn’t it?), and I wear a prosthetic leg most days . . . now I am not whinging about this, in fact I love being disabled as it has made me the person I am today and I am very proud of my person! What I want you to understand though is that life is a little bit tougher for me (and others like me), to move through (both physically and emotionally). For me walking is slow and laborious, I swing my prosthetic leg forward with my dislocated right hip and this can make my gait really uncomfortable (sore legs, sore back, fatigue, bleugh) – therefore walking is tough for me (if only the world was submerged in water and I could swim everywhere!). With only one hand and a stump that I do use like a hand, opening packages and bottles etc can prove difficult and frustrating. Well, the DLA recognises this and gives you the financial support to help with traveling, housekeeping, and living in general, yay! I have often wondered why Australia never had anything like this in place. But it is in place here in the UK and it makes life worth achieving . . . um, you get the picture.

 

Well, in the past few weeks it has become apparent that DLA is coming up for some pretty big changes (including the name DLA – it will become PIP Personal Independent Payment). But a lot of disabled folk are questioning these changes; are the changes really for the good of disabled people or for the good of the countries purse? Which then raises the question, why are the disabled not being asked about these changes? I bet your asking what these changes are? Well, I am no politician and am only just coming to an understanding of the changes myself, but this here might give you an idea of what this government and its planned changes are about. Have you gone and read the link? . . . Good, on with the blog post.

 

From what I understand I may not be so severely effected by the changes, but I may be, and this scares me a little. Perhaps I have gotten to used to having that awesome extra help, but the thought I going back to no specific financial support for the daily difficulties I have from my disability is frightening. The thing is I am not so much frightened for myself as I am for others, because I know that there are people out there with “invisible” disabilities (my friend has an “invisible” disability and it can sometimes make her more disabled than me) and it is those folk that are going to have the toughest time of it. Now I know that Europe (and the world) are in economic hardship at the moment, but it gets my goat (bad malapropism?) that the already statistically poorest people in the world (yes, disabled people are, statistically, the poorest and most disadvantaged, whether in the UK, Europe, Australia, or developing nations) are getting hard done by, whilst there are plenty of other ways that the government could be saving Britain from its economic woes (ahem, “tax-evaders,” ahem).

 

Who knows what the next few years will bring here in the UK, but I seriously hope that disabled folks will support each other, speak for each other, and evoke the change that is needed for support for all.

 

See my optimism!!

 

 

How to raise a limb deficient child.

I don’t proclaim to be an expert at child rearing – in fact I have never reared a child myself, the closest I have come is babysitting for my sister. Even then I would play the fun Aunt who let the kids get away with things their parents would probably cringe at – see not really experienced in the child rearing genre. However, I do have experience as a child being reared, and in particular a child with a disability being reared. And guess what?? I had a fantastic childhood and a fantastic teenager-hood and now I am having a fantastic adulthood . . . guess my parents reared me pretty well then (I am biased though as I think I’ve turned out quite well, maybe, for another opinion, you should ask my siblings?).

When I was born my limb deficiency came as a shock to my parents. They had had no real inkling that anything could have been “up” with the pregnancy, and therefore I came as double-whammy shock-tastic little bundle of joy. The story goes that I was whisked away after I was born, straight into a humidicrib, whilst my mother was stitched up and drugged to her eyeballs. My mother didn’t see me until 4 days after I had been born, and both my parents were wondering how they would inform the rest of the family about my disability. However, my parents being my parents (smart and loving), discussed the situation, realised that there was nothing they could do to change anything and that the best thing to do would be to raise me as they has my sister and brother, which was “normal.”

 

Of course I don’t remember any of my baby times or toddler times, but apparently I was a happy kid who had a family of four to entertain me, including an older brother whose skateboard I would nick off with at any opportunistic moment (because I couldn’t crawl properly I would lay on my brothers skateboard and push myself around – aw look, I was clever even then . . . is that snickering I hear!). When I finally received my first prosthetic leg I was not far off going to nursery and then school. I remember my nursery was filled with able bodied kids, I remember the play equipment in the backyard of the nursery teacher, I remember my brother coming to pick my up one day and walking with me back home. My parents were raising me “normal.” My mother had to fight to get me into mainstream schooling, but she fought, I got in, and lived the life of a “normal” kid, made friends, invited friends home, had sleepovers, and generally forgot that I had a disability (how could I think I was missing out on anything when I was included in everything as far as my body allowed). I got in trouble at home, was a good child at home, I wanted the usual presents a little girl would want, I idolised my older siblings (especially my brother . . . nothing against my sister, I do love her dearly, but big brother used to leave his matchbox cars out for me to play with). Does this all sound familiar?

 

It should.

 

Cause I can imagine that it was your childhood also . . . or something similar to that. Can you tell that I had a pretty good childhood? I think I did; I still get nostalgic thinking about that time, sometimes I strongly desire that I could go back in time and experience it all again. I owe this great childhood to how my parents decided to raise me. No special treatment, just lots of love and acceptance and support, what parents should give to all their kids. So, how do I believe that you should raise a limb deficient child? I think you should raise them as you would any other kid, accept them as they are, cause really, we are all different and we accept other people don’t we? A kid is a kid, whether there are all four limbs there or not, embrace that and perhaps we can all learn acceptance and appreciation for each other.

 

*You may have noticed that I used quotation marks around the word “normal” (oh look, I did it again!). I did this to emphasise the point that there is really no such thing as normal, what I think is normal could be completely foreign to someone else, so in this blog post “normal” is my family’s kind of “normal.”

 

(Photo courtesy of twister)

This is me coming back on the train the other night when I was having a think about my blog post. I had been to London to visit the Gerhard Richter exhibition at the Tate Modern, it was great!

Misunderstandings and understanding . . .

This blog post arises from a discussion I had with my flatmate the other day regarding peoples general responses to my disability – in particular that of the elderly type. I therefore decided to write out my process of misunderstanding to understanding of their stance, to help me come to a little understanding about myself.

As an adult I have been told many stories by my mother about my time as a child. My childhood involved a lot of assumptions being made about my future prospects. To begin I will tell you about the elderly lady who lived next door. Marty was a lovely old lady and always liked me to visit her whenever I could. As a child I was blissfully ignorant of any political ramifications of my disability – as far as I was concerned I wasn’t disabled (and I still do feel that way, perhaps thats another blog post). Marty, however, was a lady who had been born into an era of extreme medicalisation and institutionalisation of the disabled person, and this was reflected in her immediate reaction to becoming aware of my disability. You see, one of the first things she asked my parents when they bought me home was, “so when are you going to put her into a home?”

On first hearing this story I was mortified! Marty, the lovely old lady next door could not have said such a thing! Could she? As an adult, and an educated adult at that, I very quickly became aware of the highly politicised nature of Marty’s stance, a stance none the less that she had been raised to have. She did not know any better – as I, as a child did not know any better. Perhaps I still don’t know any better, but I now know more and it is this more that allows me to turn misunderstandings into understandings.

Even going to school in the eighties was a struggle, firstly the education department put me on “trial” at the local primary school, to see if I could “cope.” A disabled child in an able bodied environment was new, a new experience, a new situation, a new question being posed. That is not to say that I was the first disabled child to go to a mainstream school, but in my little area of Australia I was one of the first. As I have grown up and integrated into mainstream society (as I should have the right to), I noticed that it was the elderly that made the most assumptions about my disability. These assumtions would range from the medical (“are you a thalidomide baby?”) to the physical (“let me do that for you”) to the emotional (“oh you poor thing”). These statements would completely rub my up the wrong way – to say that they would frustrate me is an understatement. I hated (and do still hate) to have assumptions made about my life based on my disability, but as stated earlier, I now . . . know.

What is it that I know, you may be asking yourself? I know that times are a changing, and with that I know that when I meet an elderly person who makes an assumption about me because I am disabled is only doing so because in their time of growing up the general response to disability was to hide it away. I know that most people are just curious and are not offended when I set them right about my life. I know that we are all just human beings living in a social construct that is complex and forever shifting – things never stay the same.

 

What have I learnt from this thought process? That we all make assumptions about people, about situations, and about disability (even I do). This assumption making will never cease as long as the complex inter-relations between people goes on, but that is where blogs (like this one) can create discussion and provoke alternative thoughts, and open up the world to respectful dialogue that informs and acknowledges. Do you know of any blogs that address social issues in such a way?

 

 

*** Hope you all had a great New Years, mine was spent in Bristol with friends – such fun!!**

 

(Me in Bristol playing probably the least PC game in the world – “War on Terror” – but it was oh so much fun!)

 

 

To act or not to act; apparently money matters . . .

Well, of course money matters, but so does generosity, inclusion, and opportunity. As a person with a disability I am aware of the lack of disabled actors and presenters on the t.v. and in the movies; disabled people are at the beginning for inclusive appearances, just as women and black actors had to break through barriers, so the disabled actor is on the brink of great opportunity.

Unfortunately there are still occurrences of unenlightened stupidity – “Wolverhampton Panto uses children over dwarf actors.” When I first read about dwarf actors being overlooked in the pantomime – Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, I was horrified to read the reason given – that it was seen as exploitation of dwarves. I actually felt that this reasoning was so ill-informed and patronising that it had to be made up, fake, a slight of hand to make the whole situation seem worse.

 

(the children as the seven dwarves)

The actual reason was just as ill-informed and patronising as the “cover story.” Money. Funding. Or lack of funding; meaning that child actors are being employed in adult roles normally played by dwarf actors because the children are cheaper. Um, doesn’t this exploit the child actor? Aren’t they then being used for monetary exploitation, as opposed to their possible talents? Also, if you read the articles about the incident, the children are wearing costumes and masks and they are performing to voice overs (with adult voices providing the scripted dwarf roles). The children’s identities have been completely obliterated into that of the dwarf . . . of which, dwarf actors have been denied that opportunity to use their unique identities to represent an imagining of the dwarf persona – just as able bodied actors get to represent imaginings of themselves on a daily basis without bother.

It is a common practice in the burgeoning appearance of “normal” disabled characters in t.v. shows and movies to hire able bodied actors in the role – again, denying the right of the disabled actor to take on a role seemingly made just for them. The most obvious and well-known of these is the role of Artie in Glee. Artie is a young man who is in a wheelchair – his wheelchair dissolves into the character, becoming just as mundane as another characters legs do (things with which the character/actor propels themselves about). This normalisation of disability is great! and I love the fact that disability is not being used as a trope for tragedy or villian-ism, but . . . and this is a HUGE but, the character Artie is played by able bodied actor Kevin McHale. Now, Kevin is an amazing actor and he plays the role of Artie truthfully and emphatically; I am sure, for Kevin, the role of Artie provides him with the artistic challenge that so many artists/actors crave. Then there are the countless actors in wheelchairs (or actors with other disabilities . . . why does disability always have to equal a wheelchair or learning disability?) who miss out on roles that would give them a chance to gain agency within the acting realm, exploring their own roles in society through the imaginings of the t.v. or movie character.

Acting is a career choice that many enter for reasons of creative desire, the challenge of playing a character so different to oneself, or so like oneself. Some might say that this makes the opportunity for able bodied actors to portray the disabled character the ultimate challenge – but then doesn’t this make it okay for the white actor to play a black character (apparent racism)? It seems that the white, able bodied, and straight actor can take on any role, even if this means taking away work from minority actors with a lot of passion and talent to give. My point is that disabled actors should be considered for all disabled character roles, because they are the ones who can draw on real life experience and also are challenged in bringing these experiences into the public eye without being hindered by cliched expectations.

This post started all because of seven dwarf actors being denied the right to act in a role that they are proud to be a part of – these actors are grown men and go into stereotypical roles because this is the most accessible work for them – it is their ‘bread and butter’ gigs in a world where they are often overlooked for more conventional roles. Perhaps, instead of people feeling that it is politically correct to deny disabled actors work incase they are being exploited, or the craziness that it is better for the employer to deny disabled actors work because it is cheaper to employ children, people should just realise that disabled actors are like every other actor out there, looking for gigs to satisfy their creative desires and to pay the bills. So to the Wolverhampton panto organisers, I know that you were trying to save money by employing children into the roles of the seven dwarves, but really, you should not deny the disabled actor his (or her) right to perform in whatever capacity is afforded them, because they need the support and the funding, just like other actors, just like theatre groups, just like you, to continue creative expression in a world that needs creativity to uplift and sustain the publics spirits.

 

(perhaps peeps can take a page out of Willow and be inspired to use appropriate actors where appropriate actors are due)

Christmas and all that jazz!!

Merry Christmas All!!

It has been a fun and amazing year. Lot’s of adventure and fun (as well as frustration and anxiety – but now is not the time for that stuff), and I am looking forward to next year to put in place all the new ideas and plans that I have. Tomorrow I will be stuffing my face with turkey and veg, stuffing and gravy, and “Eton Mess’ for desert. I hope that you all have a great Christmas and stay safe and healthy over the weekend.