Our attitudes govern our lives, but it is the relationships we build that add spice and make it all worthwhile
In recent weeks QASA proposed a “What the F***” cartoon campaign to demonstrate the frustration of people with various forms of plegias against structural inaccessibility, such as occupied disability parking bays, awkward pavement kerbs, unramped staircases and inaccessible public transport. But many people felt that the expression was too crass and that it could backfire on us. “What the F***” was eventually replaced with “Eish!!!”
Expressions of outrage may drive home a point but a side effect is that they also tend to alienate the people against whom the message is aimed. We need to accept that the world owes us nothing. Our disabilities were caused either by ourselves (sometimes by acts of gross stupidity), by events involving other people, such as in motor accidents, or by “acts of God” such as illnesses. The world had nothing to do with it and does not owe us anything as a result. Demanding recognition without contributing anything will get us nowhere.
And this is where attitude comes in. We can (and should) demand to be acknowledged and catered for. We do this through aggressive campaigns, visible demonstrations and advocating. But by themselves these strategies are doomed. We need also to demonstrate our maturity, our willingness to contribute, our ability to innovate and most importantly, our sense of community. Striving for structural accessibility is great but it is other people who make life truly accessible. Our ability to function independently may stroke our egos but it is our willingness to acknowledge dependency that opens doors and builds relationships.
So if you hit a structural problem like a closed door and a friendly stranger asks if she can help, don’t say, “No thanks, I can cope!” Rather say thank you and engage in a short conversation to show the person that you are an appreciative, intelligent, normal human being. This breaks the ice and, especially in the workplace, can often be the start of a friendship that helps to break down barriers.
Recent feedback reports on the Rural Outreach projects proved exceptionally valuable. The airline Comair donated funds towards these projects, and various regions identified structural needs and set out to meet those needs. Detailed reports on what was done and how it was done secured a second year of Comair funding. Self-help centres did not wait for others to do things for them; they took the initiative to organise solutions themselves. And where they were physically unable to do certain things, they put their egos in their pockets and asked for assistance; in some instances contracted assistance, but also voluntary help. For this they were recognised, applauded and rewarded with funding to do the same again.
Aggressive advocating and ego-driven attempts at independence build walls, not relationships.
When I’m in a parking area, instead of assembling my wheelchair myself I have got into the habit of calling to passers-by and asking for their help. Some people are surprised but everyone I ask does help and in doing so finds it to be a positive, uplifting experience – their “good deed for the day”. So just by asking for assistance we boost the sense of self-worth of the helping hand. Again, the friendly conversation and sharing tips on how to assemble the wheelchair promote a sense of shared community. And when your impromptu helper spots the hand controls, you’ve struck gold: take the opportunity to demonstrate them. The most common response is “Awesome!” All of a sudden you are no longer a “wheelchair-bound cripple”; in their eyes you are an innovative, brave person who makes the most of what life has dealt you. Is there any better way of advocating?
Back to that parking area: when I see an obviously able-bodied person drive into a “disabled bay”, I flash my disability sign and give them a smile. Only on two occasions did this not work. The first was when two muscular youths told me to f-off because they were there first, and the second was when an even bigger guy got out of his car and walked over to shake my hand. Or I should say hopped over – because he had only one leg and a crutch…
We tend to share a common trait with our able-bodied fellow beings; our egos drive us to be independent. As with the able-bodied, we also seek homes where we can live independently, we strive to be financially independent, and we secure our residences with high walls, barbed wire or electric fences. We secure our possessions with insurance and our health with medical aids. And the result is that we become a society of isolated individuals who do not know the people next door (and we really don’t have much interest in getting to know them).
It is only when disaster strikes and we reach out to one another that community comes to the fore and we join hands in recognising our interdependence. But as soon as the dust settles, we go back to isolating ourselves in an effort to “protect” ourselves. And community is sacrificed for security.
So, rather than WTF, why not try WYM: “Would you mind?” Would you mind helping me up the kerb? Would you mind pushing me up this steep ramp? Would you mind helping me put my wheelchair back into my car?
And for QASA: Why not jazz up the “Eish” campaign with our wheelchair-hero performing a few over-the-top, MacGyver-style fun solutions to accessibility challenges, rather than just sitting in his chair, blowing frustrated spit bubbles…
Ida’s Corner is a regular column by George Louw, who qualified as a medical doctor, but, due to a progressing spastic paralysis, he chose a career in health administration. The column is named after Ida Hlongwa, who worked as caregiver for Ari Seirlis for 20 years. Her charm, smile, commitment, quality care and sacrifice set the bar incredibly high for the caregiving fraternity.
email: georgelou@medscheme.co.za