This was published 7 years ago
Judging someone who can walk for using a wheelchair or scooter? Stop that
By Naomi Chainey
As a person with disabling fatigue and cognitive dysfunction, I've chosen not to own a car or bicycle. Unfortunately, if I was on the road, it would only be a matter of time before someone - maybe me - was hit by something fast and unyielding, and I'd rather avoid that kind of fallout.
I can walk, but not far. A block or two is my upper limit on an average day. After that my legs start to feel like lead, and any further exertion can result in a "crash", making it hard to do basic things like get dressed or make lunch for a few days.
"Truth be told, I'd be afraid to use a mobility scooter in public."Credit: Gillian van Niekerk/Stocksy
Public transport works for certain outings, but has its limitations. Dropping something off in the next suburb can swallow your whole afternoon as you wait for connecting buses.
Ubers are great, but the cost adds up.
The author, Naomi Chainey, needed to grieve for the woman she once was in order to accept the future of the woman she became once she had ME/CFS.
I don't own a mobility scooter, but the potential convenience of having one is very appealing to me. The time, money and energy I could save would mean increased freedom, better work capacity, improved concentration and less chronic pain.
However, though I've flirted with the idea of investing in such a vehicle, I've always held back because, truth be told, I'd be afraid to use it in public.
What would people think seeing me get in and out of my scooter on able looking legs? What kind of aggression and accusations would I cop? Faker? Imposter? Liar? Would the increase in freedom be worth such an assault on my mental health?
So far, my answer has been "no".
As a culture, we have many unspoken rules around disability. The able-bodied gaze likes its disabled people to be pitiable and infantilised in a way that reinforces unhealthy power dynamics. We are expected to fit a Dickensian vision of the "deserving poor" that allows the able-bodied to feel superior; their philanthropic intentions justified. Our independence and self-determination are yet to be considered rights. Rather, such freedom subverts the dominant social system that seeks to keep us disempowered.
Failing to abide by the rules of this system, asserting sovereignty over our own identities and experiences, means facing censure.
The blind person who firmly refuses your assistance to cross the road is "rude". The wheelchair user who gets angry when you ask about their toileting habits is "needlessly confrontational". The clinically depressed person who declines your invitation to dinner is "failing to help themselves". The chronically ill person who looks cheerful when they leave the house is "faking it for attention". God forbid a visibly disabled person smoke, drink, become a parent or have sex. How irresponsible! Is no one supervising them?!
In effect, these attitudes serve to preserve a status quo where the dignity and welfare of disabled people are valued below the curiosity and pride of the able-bodied. It creates an incentive for disabled people to reduce ourselves and our potential for the sake of avoiding conflict.
As an invisibly disabled woman with a chronic illness, this means thinking twice before opting for a useful mobility aid like a scooter. Practically speaking, I have three options. One, continue on with my current limitations. Two, obtain a scooter and face the wrath of society whenever I get in or out of it in a public space. Three, get a scooter and pretend I can't get out of it, limiting my functionality in new and unnecessary ways for the sake of fitting ableist expectations of what it means to be disabled.
Option three is ludicrous, and not something I'd ever honestly consider, but the idea holds appeal, and that is highly concerning. That my ability to stand and walk might be considered offensive in its noncompliance with societal expectations of scooter users is, well, unhelpful, and it's worth asking why it should be so confronting.
A mobility scooter is a tool. Nothing more or less. Why should the people who use them have to conform to stereotypes of disability? Why should they need to be disabled at all? Hell, if an able-bodied person loses their license and finds a scooter useful for their weekly grocery shop, why shouldn't they use it? What are people really objecting to here?
The truth is, in a society where able-bodied feelings are prioritised over accessibility, people feel entitled to outrage if they believe their pity is being courted duplicitously. But this indignation needs to stop, because here's the thing: disabled people never asked for pity. We don't want it. What we want is access. What we want is to participate as equal members of society using whatever tools are available to us.
It would be nice to be able to do that without having to put the feelings of able-bodied people first.