I thought about people I know who have told me they have learning disabilities, dyslexia, or color blindness. Their conversation reflects a sense of confidence that the disability is not a problem to them and it is apparent they are leading happy and fulfilled lives. What they don't often reveal is how different their world view is from mine, a person without that specific disability. People with invisible disabilities seem less likely to talk about the accommodations they need and adjustments they make to live in a world that assumes certain abilities.
Oliver Sacks has an article in the August 30th edition of The New Yorker about a condition called prosopagnosia or face blindness. He talks about the challenges of recognizing people when he cannot use facial qualities to help with recognition. A recent segment on NPR told of a man who was diagnosed with phonagnosia or voice blindness. He couldn't recognize people's voices and relates the challenges of answering the phone.
In all these instances the invisibility of the disability is a reminder that many people have learned to live in a world normed to people able to do things that they cannot do or can only experience with accommodation or help. Being and having allies is one of the tools we teach in diversity work to support and connect potentially marginalized groups and individuals to mainstream life. Having allies reduces vulnerability and ensures dignity. People with invisible disabilities depend on allies to experience aspects of the world they cannot discern, cues they cannot read.
Invisible disabilities. It gets you thinking. How would you describe the smell of rain or the smell of garbage to a person without a sense of smell? How would you help a person to recognize you without looking at your face? To recognize you without hearing your distinct voice?
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