Being Human
One of the core truths of being human is the presence of weakness. We want to hide it, even from our own awareness, but despite our best efforts, there is no way to deny the reality that you cannot do everything. Some limitations can be unseen, such as the girl with depression or man with dyslexia. But, many of us are given the gift of wearing our weaknesses on our leaves. Perhaps you’re thinking of a child with Down’s Syndrome or the woman born-blind. Seeing as March is Disability Awareness Month, I’d appreciate it if you’d take a moment to join me on a brief meditation about how disability encourages us to be more human.
Before we dive too far, I want to offer some clarifications and a healthy dose of transparency. Your writer today is a person with a disability. I've got a mild-moderate presentation of Osteogenesis Imperfecta (brittle bones), and I’m planning to let my bias show a bit. However, the last thing I want to do is frame disability as a source of manufactured inspiration. The value does not come from having “overcome” limitation, but instead the freedom that comes with recognizing our own fragility. My hope is that this provides a perspective that sadly, we still don’t get to hear very often.
Weakness is scary because it demands vulnerability. What if someone sees me and turns away? What if someone sees me as a burden because I asked for help? We have literally built the world in such a way that it does not accommodate weakness. Because it is a curse to our eyes. Life would be substantially easier for me if I did not have brittle bones. Our nonverbal friends with autism are often struggling to be understood even by those close to them. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, disability reminds us of death. But, that’s a good thing.
Each of us has a limitation, be it an injury, biological impairment, or a skill we just can’t seem to develop. In our modern culture in which technology allows us to surpass so much of what was previously impossible or allows us to do what would have been a day's work in mere minutes, we have found a way to distance ourselves from our embodied nature. You have a body and it is good, but it can’t do everything. When you have a physical injury, you must pay attention to your body in order for it to heal. That ability to care for ourselves needs to be exercised.
I don’t mean for you to “turn your weakness into a strength”. I definitely don’t want to communicate that anyone needs to “shut up and take it either.” You are weak and that’s okay. You can be angry about that, you can be sad. It can be an isolating experience, especially when we put up barriers that prevent a true sense of belonging. Is disability caused by our disregard of it, or by its own nature? Maybe we could learn to slow down and really listen to the boy with the speech impediment. If we all learned American Sign Language growing up, would a Deaf person even have a disability? If all buildings had well-maintained ramps, automatic doors and elevators instead of stairs, is there any functional difference between someone who does or does not use a wheelchair? Accessibility has improved but we’ve yet to cultivate a sense that disability belongs as a natural part of the human experience.
Weakness forces vulnerability which invites authenticity. We tend to feel most comfortable around the people with whom we are able to be most authentic. Therein lies the gift of disability: persons who cannot not be themselves, and what beautiful selves they are. Have you ever seen a person with autism get excited? Literally jumping for joy, crying out happy to be alive, even if they aren’t saying words, at least as I understand them. By virtue of their existence, asking us to slow down and experience the joy of being alive and in community. In an increasingly disconnected and distant world, where efficiency dehumanizes us by reducing our value to our level of productivity, we need people with disabilities more than they need us.
