‘Would you mind answering my child’s questions about your disability?’ a woman bluntly asked me last week.
I had nipped into the shop five minutes from home. My only mission was securing some Greek yoghurt, not educating a child.
Firmly, but politely, I refused. There was a slight huff as she said, ‘It’d be good for him to learn about it.’
I got the sense that the child wanted to ask why I was in a wheelchair and what had happened to my legs.
This might seem like a meaningless exchange, but I was disgusted. It felt like an odd thing to ask a stranger, just because they are in a wheelchair.
It shouldn’t need to be said – but don’t ask disabled people to explain themselves, whether for your own curiosity or your child’s.
Imagine how you’d feel if a stranger came up to you when you least expected it, while your mind was on tomorrow morning’s breakfast and asked you to explain something that is an inherent part of your existence.
While I’m usually firm but polite, as I was in this case, I’m often tempted to ask ‘What’s wrong with you? I almost died, and you want to use that trauma as a teachable moment?’
When I was born, I suffered a brain injury which led to cerebral palsy. It meant that I’ve always had to – and always will – rely on a wheelchair.
I completely accept it. I’m fortunate to have a wonderful life. But I hate talking about it.
When I think about the medical emergency that caused my disability – even though I can’t remember it – my throat starts to close and I get hot.
I can’t imagine anything more personal. So, people shouldn’t assume they can just ask.
But that doesn’t stop them.
I remember being in a taxi as a teenager when the driver asked what had happened to my legs. To my horror, before waiting for an answer, he told me that if he had my disability, he would have ‘killed himself,’ as though it was a normal response. I was speechless, unable to respond.
It was just as bad when I was younger – when I was six, another child said ‘ew, what happened to your legs?’
It’s even happened on dates where I’ve been asked to explain exactly why I am disabled and whether I can have sex.
Some days, these interactions mentally exhaust me so much that I don’t want to leave the house.
That is what makes the situation in the supermarket so sad.
I can’t even nip to the shop without being asked to explain myself or to educate someone. The encounter at the supermarket had ruined the rest of my day and left me emotionally exhausted.
The bizarre thing was, this young boy didn’t seem that bothered, but here was his mother asking me to go full Ms Rachel.
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I’m not saying there was any malice – a parent saw an opportunity to educate their child and wanted to take it, but there’s a time and a place, and there must be boundaries.
Don’t get me wrong, I love interacting with children, even when it involves my disability.
Just last week, a child said with wonder, ‘How are you going so fast?’ I was going downhill. A couple of months ago, a little girl said excitedly, ‘It’s a wheelchair.’ Both experiences were magical and life-affirming.
But you can’t force someone to spill their guts in aisle three and get huffy when they refuse.
I don’t deserve to feel that way, like this private, personal thing must be shared, even if I don’t want to.
Before asking what seems like an abstract question like ‘what happened’, I wish people would think of the reality of that personal pain before they ask a stranger something so intrusive. To think about how it could impact someone.
Years ago, a different parent asked me to talk to their child about my disability, in a library, and I answered as best I could.
But I still remember thinking, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ I just wasn’t comfortable, even though they were, thankfully, completely harmless questions.
But I should have said ‘no’ then too.
Now, I’m more assertive, but I need others to be more understanding and respectful.
Disabled people are the same as you. We’re just trying to live ordinary lives – we have our hurts and our personal things.
We absolutely don’t owe you, or your children, an education or a good story.
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