About ten years ago, I was waiting in line at a music festival when I suddenly realized I needed to use the bathroom. I’d been drinking water all morning, but I didn’t anticipate how long the bus would take and the number of people waiting to get on. I had to go. i have to go Instantly.
“We have to find a bathroom,” I said to my sister. She could tell by the panic in my voice that I meant it, but she couldn’t just wave me off to find the bathroom. She had to push my wheelchair. “Walk faster!” I yelled as she weaved in and out of sawdust, grass and dirt. When we arrived at a group of waiters, my sister screamed, “Where’s the bathroom?” He pointed to a sweaty, nonchalant man at a porta-potty in the distance, right next to the multiple rows of toilets we were asked to roll past first. Behind the roped off queue.
To me, this is comedy gold.
Disability is rarely considered comical. It’s often described as frustrating, which is probably why you might be feeling a little uncomfortable right now. In movies, it highlights a love story in which two people must face impending death, or a drama about a misfit without any friends, which naturally includes a scene about his parents encouraging him to ignore a bully (He is finishing).
But real-life perceptions of life with disabilities are not much better. There were many times when strangers asked me “What’s wrong?!” as my legs gave out and I walked in her direction. Once I told her I was born with cerebral palsy she apologized for my cerebral palsy because what else are people taught to say? (Frankly, I wish more people would respond, “It’s great to be in this great parking spot,” but that’s just me.)
After a lifetime of observing popular reactions to disability, I know how common it is for people to lament what could have been and to feel bitter about what is. People with disabilities are people who people hope they will never be; people refuse to believe that this is possible. While some of these negative reactions may ring true – Disability able Grief and pain—this vantage point often makes it difficult to appreciate the lighter layers of all the complexity.
The truth is, having a disability can be hilarious.
Maybe my sense of humor goes well with my morning coffee. When I pour myself a black mug and walk from the kitchen to the living room, I’m likely to lose my balance and spill it on the floor. I would giggle if that happened. I tend to think of my cerebral palsy as a source of physical comedy. I would often hit corners and slip up on stairs, creating a personal soundtrack of “oohs” and “aahs” that sounded like the intro to a 90s club hit. Sure, it can be difficult, but it’s a real treat to always have fresh material.
Throughout our lives we take our physical condition very seriously. They should be this height and this size; should have two arms and two legs, and a sloping nose. The body should walk, jump, lift and twist. We hide content that is not universally accepted; we spend a lot of money on “maintenance.” Of course, I’ve had my share of “if only” fantasies – especially when I was younger, and even now, when I’m waiting for the elevator.
Nonetheless, here’s what I’ve learned over thirty years should It’s all about me: my body is with me. Once I accepted my body for what it was, I let it go no. From that point on I started having more fun.
There’s always a crack in the sidewalk for me to trip over, especially when I’m trying to look sexy. I could never carry a cocktail across a room without it spilling, especially if I wanted to look sexy. Spiral stairs seem to happen whenever I’m wearing impractical shoes, especially when I’m trying to look sexy. My crush is definitely in my sights when I’m trying to carry a bag, climb a mountain, or do whatever it is – while also trying to look sexy. That’s the price you pay for getting a super parking spot every so often.
Perhaps being able to find humor in disability comes from understanding it so deeply. One day I told an old friend that I preferred my neighborhood to theirs because it was much harder to find parking where they lived. One friend said without hesitation: “Wouldn’t it be easy for you to find a place to park?” We all laughed, and I knew they were laughing and I─Never take it personally. Once you acknowledge that disabled people’s lives are still whole, it becomes easier to make a joke.
Kelly Dawson is a writer, editor, and marketing consultant in Los Angeles. She wrote an article for Cup of Jo about living with people with disabilities and why New York City is often inaccessible. If you like, follow her on Instagram.
PS Becoming Friends with Non-Disabled People and How to Cope with Disabled People.
