Paralympics Paradoxes

In the first flush of enthusiasm about the Paralympics, I was very optimistic about the 'Paralympics effect'. I thought, along with quite a few other people, seeing a variety of people with disabilities would improve non-disabled people's attitudes to us. And their general behaviour.

Thinking about it though  (and reading a number of comments) dented the enthusiasm somewhat. It became a little obvious, especially with the current political 'blame culture' that's common in some circles in the UK, that all those who look at us oddly, avoid us altogether, or worse, denigrate us in often small, but insidious and unpleasant ways, were not going to change.

From friends who went to the Paralympics and commented not just on the numbers, but on the 'naturalness' of the youngsters surrounded by disability, I came to the conclusion I'd better place my faith in younger generations.

Certainly, among the older ones, that brief spell when I found people smiling and being courteous and helpful (I spent most of the Paralympics period using a wheelchair myself) seems to have worn off pretty damn rapidly.

The wrinklies, I see, have reverted to type. I'm now back on my feet (and crutches) at least for short distances, and some people's behaviour is getting all too familiar. coming back on the bus from the supermarket of late, almost every time I've had to stand, or clamber up a step to a seat, because the clearly labelled 'disabled' seats have been taken up with one person and their shopping bags. And I've had to aske the driver if I can get off by the front entrance instead of the rear exit because I can't manoeuvre past buggies or shopping trolleys in the aisle.

Now that, in itself, is not a huge problem (at least some of the time) since, apart from the disability that's affected my spine, keeps me in quite a lot of pain, and left me with one pretty well useless leg, I'm actually (ironically) reasonably physically fit. I can hang on tight to a grab rail to support myself. I can stand up from a high seat, awkward though it is. I call the method my 'monkey on a stick trick'. I basically have to use my arms and wrists to 'climb' up my crutch, just like those old toys.

But what I loathe (and am facing again, now, only a few weeks after the Paralympics ended) is the glare of the wrinklies. That look as you get on the bus that says: "Yes I know perfectly well I'm taking up two seats and I could move to another empty seat, or even put my shopping in the luggage space,  to make things easier for you, but I'm not damn well going to. Both you and I can see I can't see you."

And then, of course, the 'Paralympics Paradox' some disabled people feared comes into play. I see it from their covert glances. "If you're fit enough to do that" (like my monkey-on-a-stick, or hold three shopping bags in one hand, hang on to a grab rail, and manipulate a crutch with the other) "I was right not to help, because you're not really disabled are you?"

It's just another version of what the more egregious anti-disabled commenters have been saying. "If they can do that, they don't need our help anyway, do they?"

I've long expected this 'Paralympics Paradox' to come back and bite me. I've actually lived with it a long time. Once I got over the shock of becoming disabled, and, more importantly, came to terms with the idea it was never going to change (much harder!)  I decided I would do my best to appear, as far as I could, not disabled. I don't want pity. (I can pity myself enough for half a dozen sometimes at night.)
I don't want sympathy, or, worse, attempts at empathy. Non-disabled people cannot really understand enough to make either meaningful. And I'm not really interested in explaining my disability. Any more than I'd be interested in explaining to a stranger why I have green eyes.

So for years, I've been, on the whole, happiest when it's taken people (especially somewhere public, like a bar or a club) a while to realise I am disabled. After all, the 'me' I was before I was is still the 'me' I am now. It's a trickier thing to pull off in a wheelchair, of course, and I'm still working on it. Whether I'll crack it before I end up using one most of the time instead of some of it, I don't know.

But there is hope: but not from many people over fifty, by the look of it. The 2012 'Young Paralympics' generation, maybe. I don't mind (actually, I like) teenagers wanting demos of wheelies or whatever as though a wheelchair was really merely a version of a mountain bike.  Even though I'm not a kid myself. . . far from it. Pity I can't afford an equivalent flashy racing wheelchair . . .

But the older ones . . .forgeddit.