Category Archives: social attitudes

On Centring Caregivers in Disability Discourse

12 August, 2010disability activism, politics, social attitudescare, caregiving, carers, parenting, privilege, problematic attitudes, rethinking social norms, social attitudes, social treatmentChally

It’s really off-putting when a group of disabled people are trying to have a conversation and a caregiver butts in with “you’re wrong. I know, because I care for someone with such and such a disability”. This makes me squirm. Even worse are those disability organisations or charities that have only parents and caregivers on their boards. “Oh, but it’s all right, my brother has this condition. In fact, we all have family members with this condition!”

It’s troubling enough that there are so many such organisations out there that just don’t have anyone who actually has the disability concerned on their boards – it’s as though we can’t speak for ourselves or have unique experiences people who don’t have our disabilities can’t relate to or advocate about! – but that’s not directly what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about who gets to run conversations about disability and who gets to run the narratives. All too frequently, abled caregivers and family members are centered in conversations that really ought to be run by and focus on disabled people.

The thing is, abled caregivers and family members, while pretty involved in the lives of those they are caring for, have their own perspectives, which is great. But treating those perspectives like substitutes for those of disabled people themselves makes me really uneasy. So when the perspectives of disabled people get pushed out because carers are brought to the forefront – in legislating, in daily conversation, in interviews – for me, that’s a clear example of ableism run rampant. Because it seems like those in charge think that disabled people aren’t worth listening to or are incapable of informing their own opinions. The dominant narrative is that abled people are better worth listening to, and I get sad when abled carers and parents just don’t seem to realise that they’re dominating conversations at the expense of disabled people. (It reminds me of those times when men start talking loudly about feminism and everyone else in the room has to keep quiet, is denied a chance to speak.) And “advocacy” of disabled people shouldn’t be at the expense of disabled people.

Of course, it’s usually particular kinds of caregivers who get centred – who centre themselves – in these conversations: abled ones. As ever, it is those with multiple roles who are pushed to the margins, because their existence is held to be just too complicated to deal with. I think acknowledging disabled people who are also caregivers would be a really good start to decentralising the place of abled caregivers in these conversations. Moreover, acknowledging the multifaceted nature of experience brings out the nuance: we really have to engage with the dynamics of different people’s situations here – what are the power dynamics like when you’re both in a position of power and disabled? how do these conversations apply to you? – rather than defaulting to listening to abled parents and caregivers.

Now, I’m not saying that abled caregivers and such should have no place in conversations about disability and ableism, you understand: I’m saying that such folk have dominated conversations about these matters. There is a place, it just shouldn’t be a place that replicates the hierarchies present in society already: hierarchies around who gets to speak, who gets to do the representing. The effect of this – and you can look at a range of newspaper articles or documentaries or whatever you please – is that disabled people get silenced. The effect is that, more often than not, it becomes all about portraying the caregiver as angelic and the person cared for as a burden they have kindly taken on.

And that’s not on.

[Cross-posted at Zero at the Bone and Feministe]

Vulnerability Indexes, Homelessness, and Disability

5 August, 2010accessibility, activism, blaming, intersectionality, invisibility, justice, make the world a better place, mental health, policy, politics, poverty, social attitudeshomelessness, housing first, vulnerability indexesabby jean

(Note: this originally appeared in a modified form on my tumblr.)

Vulnerability indexing is a new trend in homelessness services. It started in LA and NYC but is now being used a bunch of cities and localities of all sizes around the country. Instead of traditional outreach services, these projects use a “vulnerability index” survey to collect data from street-based homeless folks (rather than people in shelters, living in cars, doubled up on couches, etc). The data is then used to rank the homeless people, in order, by their “vulnerability,” or likelihood of dying within the next 12 months if they remain on the street.
That ranked vulnerability list is then used as a priority list to provide the people with services, starting with housing.

In providing housing and services, these programs use a “housing first” model, which means that unlike the vast majority of homeless housing services, individuals are NOT required to be clean of drugs/alcohol or engaged in mental health services prior to moving in. Once they move in, they’re provided with all the supportive services they want, including substance abuse treatment, mental health treatment, education and job training and placement assistance, etc.

I strongly support these programs and have been very excited to see them gaining traction in LA. (we have project 50 in downtown LA, project 30 in the San Fernando Valley, and others pending right now.) I also think these programs are of special interest from a disability perspective because of the extremely high prevalence rates of mental and physical disabilities among the long-term chronic homeless, and the way these disabilities make it difficult, if not impossible, for this group of homeless people to move towards stable permanent housing.

Here are some of the reasons I think this approach makes a lot of sense:

1. It targets the population that needs it the most, re-opens discussions about serving the chronically homeless
These projects target a subset of the homeless population – the chronically homeless. This group is defined as people who have been continuously homeless for at least a year. This is a minority of the overall homeless community (about 23% of all homeless), as most people cycle in and out of homelessness in periods of 3 months or so. The chronically homeless are generally single adults, not families, and generally have some kind of substance abuse issue and/or mental disability and/or physical disability. Most policy analysts believe that nearly every chronically homeless person has either a mental or physical disability.

This population is considered extremely difficult to serve, as lots have tried to engage with services in the past and not found it useful, so are considered “service resistant.” This is a nice way to say that most people and agencies have pretty much given up on them and don’t have any hope of bringing them into services, much less into stable housing. This is also a nice way to say that these homeless folks have correctly figured out that most homeless services aren’t appropriate or beneficial for them, so there’s little point in trying to engage with service organizations. This is partly because homeless services are not really set up for people with disabilities – getting necessary accommodations in a shelter is enormously difficult because of the already extremely limited resources available. If you have PTSD and need a door that locks in order to sleep, a shelter is not for you. If you have a service animal, shelters are not for you. If you need even a minimal level of nursing or medical care, shelters are not for you. (Not that the streets are better at accommodating disabilities.)

These chronically homeless people are, unfortunately but frankly, likely to die. the vulnerability index looks at factors that “place them at heightened risk of mortality,” including 3 or more hospitalizations or ER visits in the last year, aged 60 or above, cirrhosis of the liver or end stage renal disease, HIV+ or AIDS, or co-occurring psychiatric, substance abuse, and chronic medical conditions (tri-morbidity). When this tool has been used in communities, the most vulnerable person identified by the tool usually has all of those risk factors and has been homeless for 20+ years. Can you imagine how difficult it would be for a 62 year old man who is HIV+ and has a physical and mental disability and an active substance abuse problem to enter a shelter, especially after over 20 years of street homelessness?

Traditionally, this group of the chronically homeless is a group that people have given up on. Not just the public, but even homeless service providers. But the first iteration of this program, in the Times Square area of NYC, has produced before and after stories that are flooring. A woman who lived on the streets for 20+ years as a heroin addict is now housed and working as the concessions manager at the movie theater in Times Square. Looking at the before and after pictures seemed like she’d moved backwards in time – she looked 20 years younger. These are the people who we walk by on the street and feel like they’re beyond help and beyond hope. We just don’t think people can come back from that – and these programs are proving that assumption to be absolutely wrong.

Another benefit of focusing on the most vulnerable folks is that it communicates that same message – you are not beyond help or hope, there are programs that can provide meaningful and beneficial assistance – to the homeless community itself. If folks see that the agency promised housing to someone with a substance abuse disorder, a mental disability, and 20+ years on the street, and then delivered on that promise, they’ll be motivated to participate with the agency and trust them in a way they wouldn’t trust the shelters or outreach teams that hadn’t housed that guy in the past. These programs usually see a “tipping point” once the first few, most vulnerable, people are housed – then the rest of the community believes in the promise of potential housing and is motivated to cooperate with the service agency.

2. These programs make economic sense.
These targeted programs are usually seen as an alternative to simply ignoring the homeless and continuing to not spend city and county funds on them. Because there are not a lot of homeless services or programs targeting this group, the perception is that we are currently spending zero dollars on them, and any targeted program will be a dramatic increase in funds directed to the chronically homeless. This could not be more inaccurate. Actually, this group is consuming an astounding amount of public funds, through county health programs, police and jail funding, and public benefits such as food stamps or general relief funds. A recent study by the Economic Roundtable here in LA found that these most vulnerable folks are consuming over $8,000 in county funds PER MONTH, through multiple ER visits, jail time for quality of life infractions, and health care services received in jail. When these folks are moved into housing – even fully subsidized funding with inclusive supportive services – it’s a net savings for the government.

So this popular conception that we’re not already spending a bundle on these chronically homeless folks is simply inaccurate. We, as city and county governments, are already spending an enormous amount of county health funds, justice system funds, and social system funds on this group, with no discernible improvement in their quality of life or life expectancy. (This New Yorker article is a great discussion of how these costs can mount up for a single homeless individual.)

I know that cost savings is likely not the most important aspect of these programs for this audience, but these economic arguments are extremely powerful in persuading localities who do not understand why they would benefit from targeting funds and assistance at the chronically homeless.

3. The overall economic effects of the project help those homeless who aren’t directly targeted.
The economic benefits of these programs mean that there will likely be additional homeless service dollars available for use at other places in the homeless continuum of care – meaning that the program could generate benefits for the non-chronically homeless as well. This is much needed. Currently, in LA, it’s really hard to get into a homeless shelter. that’s because the “emergency” homeless shelters – where you’re supposed to stay for 30-90 days before moving into a “transitional” shelter – are backed up. Because all the transitional shelters are full. Because there’s no permanent housing available, so there’s nowhere to transition to from the transitional shelter. So the transitional shelter is serving as permanent housing and the emergency shelter as transitional shelter and the folks who need emergency shelter … sleep in their cars, or on the floor of a friend’s apartment. This system could benefit from some more cash to build permanent housing – money that might be available were we able to reduce the significant existing county expenditures on the chronically homeless.

4. Housing First and other harm reduction policies make sense.
Currently, a lot of housing placements require that the person moving in be clean and sober and, if they have a mental disability, be actively engaged in mental health treatment services. As you can imagine, this turns into a lot of chicken and egg problems. If you are a homeless person living in LA’s Skid Row, which is overrun with illegal drugs and alcohol, and have no money to afford rehab or treatment, you are never going to be eligible for that housing, even if you actively want to stop using. You don’t have anything to lose while living on the street – even going to jail gets you a bed and some food – so there’s absolutely no incentive to stop using. If you’re likely to die within 6 to 12 months, it’s likely that being high during the interim will be more pleasant than being sober.

If you’re placed in an apartment, though, you quickly learn that ongoing abuse is going to cause financial problems in affording the apartment and social problems in not disturbing other neighbors. There’s also an incentive – you don’t want to lose the apartment. The programs have found that people are motivated to enter treatment when receiving housing, even if it’s not a requirement of maintaining housing. There have been similar results with mental health treatment.

Even aside from the incentive effects, these Housing First programs are humane. I know a bunch of people who wouldn’t be able to get apartments if they had to show clean drug tests to get the apartment and to maintain tenancy, but they’re allowed to do that because they have money.

SO, in short: even though it sometimes feels a bit squicky to be ordering homeless folks in terms of likeliness to die and priority for housing, these programs make a lot of sense conceptually and have had amazing effects on the ground. Of the 50 most vulnerable in downtown LA, all of which had disabilities of some kind, 41 are currently in housing. I don’t see how this could have been done any other way.

Non-Fiction Book Review: Woeful Afflictions, by Mary Klages

5 August, 2010books, reading list, representations, social attitudesAnna

In one sentence: Woeful Afflictions discusses representations of blind women in Victorian American literature, both fiction and non-fiction, and by both blind and sighted people.

I had some difficulties with this book which may colour my review. Its primary audience is, of course, literary scholars and (presumably) people who read Victorian literature. I am, sadly, neither of these things, but even so I did manage to get a great deal out of the book.

Klages analyses a variety of textual sources, varying from Dickens’ “The Old Curiosity Shop” to Gibson’s “The Miracle Worker”, from Cumming’s “The Lamp Lighter” to Annual Reports from the Perkins Institute for the Blind and various autobiographical works by blind women. I especially enjoyed the latter, as there are very few examples of writing of actual blind women from this time period, and Klages’ discussion of these (few) works made me want to seek them out to read for myself. It’s frustrating how rare such treasures are.

Klages makes two points which I think are most important. The first, evident throughout the whole book, is that representations of people with disabilities haven’t really changed all that much since Dickens. There are certainly shining lights, some of which we’ve talked about here on FWD, but mostly, people with disabilities in media and pop culture are still presented as tragedies, as poster children, or as lessons for the non-disabled. It grows rather tiring to read descriptions of books I’ve never read and realise that they’re basically describing books I have – because the tropes just haven’t changed that drastically.

The other thing that I think is important is in this paragraph:

To become a self… twentieth century disabled people have had to deny, forget, or erase the bodies that mark them as physically different. They have had to accede to forms of self-hood available through sentimental value systems, which construct them as both objects and agents of feeling and empathy, but not necessarily as capable of independent rational thought and economic autonomy. And they have had to renounce virtually all forms of physical sexuality, accepting the disabled body only as a site for feeling, rather than for production, reproduction, or pleasure. These factors, the result of more than one hundred and fifty years of sentimental representations of disability have over-determined the relegation of disabled people to the position of perpetual ‘poster children’, and prevented them from becoming recognized as adults, operating on the same terms, and with the same concerns and rights, as non-disabled adults. [1. Klages, Mary. Woeful Afflictions: Disability and Sentimentality in Victorian America. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999, 196.]

In essence, these representations are things we either attempt to fit ourselves into, or struggle to remove ourselves from, but they still impact us, no matter what choices we make.

For the most part, I enjoyed Klages work, although I think getting the full value of the read would require a bit more background than Klages puts in. That said, one could check this book out, review the chapter titles, and sort out which bits most interest you, as it reads more as a series of inter-connected articles than one ‘whole’ argument. The writing style felt very jargon-heavy to me, but I’m not a literary scholar and thus I’m not positive I was her target audience to begin with; I’m certain others would have no problems. I give it 3/5 stars.

Commenting note: I am, as I said, on Thesis Time right now, which basically means I’m hardly at all around. If you decide to comment, please keep commenting policies in mind, and I’ll do my best to keep up with them.

Quick Press: Action For Access

27 July, 2010accessibility, activism, disability activism, make the world a better place, social attitudes, technologyaccessibility, Action for Access, activism, barriers to access, disabilityOuyang Dan

Passed along to me via email is this downloadable and printable survey, Action for Access.

You go to the website, and follow the instructions for download. The survey can be taken to locations on the map, then matched up (to my understanding) with the online version, to rate local businesses and establishments in the UK on their accessibility.

There are instructions for following up on the information you provide.

If anyone is interested, or has tried this survey and followed up on it, I would be interested to know how successful they found it (or even how accessible they found the survey itself).

Why am I surprised by this?

24 July, 2010happy posts, medical practice, small stories, social attitudescerebral palsy, doctors, fibromyalgia, medical care, medications, pain management, personal stories, surgeryAnnaham

To begin, rather pithily: I have had very mixed experiences with medical professionals throughout my life. Some have been fantastic. Some have been middle-of-the-road. And, as you might expect to hear from a person with a chronic pain condition, some have been absolutely awful.

Recently, I had a fantastic experience in a consultation with the oral surgeon who will be — at the time of this writing — removing the three wisdom teeth that I have in my skull [note: by the time this post is up, I will be recovering from the surgery and therefore on a bit of a break from blogularly goings-on]. Given my past experiences with medical professionals, I was not optimistic going into the consultation. I have a pretty spotty history when it comes to dental sensitivity, have been labeled an “anxious” patient in the past because of said sensitivity issues, and thus have a mountain of concerns about surgical procedures because of the medical conditions that I already have — cerebral palsy and fibromyalgia among them. I was fully expecting that the surgeon would either minimize and perhaps outright dismiss my concerns during this appointment; worse, he might actively resist giving me anything other than over-the-counter pain medications for what is known as being a very painful procedure, as fibromyalgia patients seem to have a reputation as being “drug-seeking” among some people in the medical community and in the popular imagination at large (to say nothing of the ridiculousness of getting one’s wisdom teeth removed as a method of obtaining prescription drugs).

Interestingly, this was one of those times where I would be happy to be wrong. The oral surgeon not only explained the actual procedure to me in great detail, but listened very patiently to my concerns about possible issues due to increased pain (possibly relating to fibro, as it tends to flare up after any medical procedure that involves high doses of medication that I do not normally take) and muscle spasms (that would be the cerebral palsy, which has left me with muscular weakness on the left side of my body and occasional spasm attacks in my left leg). He also asked many questions about both the fibro and the CP, and reassured me that he and his staff would watch for things relating to each condition that could possibly occur during and after the procedure.

This consultation — and the oral surgeon’s taking my concerns so seriously — was a welcome break from the fighting-an-uphill-battle-with-my-bare-hands sort of feeling that I’ve gotten from some past medical and health-related consultations. I am, of course, of the opinion that these sorts of positive experiences should not be this unusual, and that they apparently are so unusual gives me pause for a myriad of reasons.

Dear Imprudence: Getting It Right! (For Once!)

16 July, 2010accessibility, activism, Dear Imprudence, justice, mental health, policy, social attitudessocial servicesabby jean

s.e. smith recently passed on a question from a Dear Prudence column (3rd question down) that, well, actually gets things right. We were both pretty surprised! The question asked is shockingly similar to my own situation, but I swear I didn’t write in to ask it. The questioner writes:

I work in a social-services-related field and have bipolar disorder. I am open and honest about my diagnosis. … I have been having issues with one of our interns, who is in her mid-20s and pursuing a master’s degree in clinical psychology. On the surface, she is very pleasant. The problem is, anytime she and I disagree about something (which is often, because apparently she knows everything and I know nothing), she rolls her eyes, waves her hand, and declares that I am “just bipolar.” This is alarming to me because she intends to work with such populations, and though I can take it without becoming suicidal, many bipolar people can’t. Part of me wants to simply ignore her, but when I do, she continually asks me, “What’s wrong?” She is probably going to be with us for another year, and I want some peace and a little less condescension when I go to work.

Hey! I have bipolar, and I work in a social-services-related field! The difference is, if I ever encountered anyone who put a hand in my face and dismissed me as “just bipolar,” I would have a written warning in their file before they could even blink. This is not only because I don’t tolerate that kind of flip dismissal, but also because the attitudes of social services staff towards people with mental illness can have an enormous impact on the quality and effectiveness of services delivered to people with mental illness. It is damaging to the agency as a whole to have those attitudes expressed to clients by agency staff and it is an amazing disservice to approach people who need social services with such a dismissive, discriminatory, and oppressive attitude. To her credit, Prudence clearly sees this aspect of the issue:

Since she’s an intern and plans to go into your field, take seriously your duties to guide this obnoxious young person… If she doesn’t stop, or escalates her rude and dismissive behavior, keep your cool and explain to the higher-ups that while “Brittany” may have some promising qualities, she needs some serious attention paid to how she treats others.

This is exactly right. Social service agencies need to ensure that staff do not transmit these attitudes to agency clients. Unforutnately, based on my experience, it is not uncommon to encounter agency staff with these kinds of attitudes, primarily because agencies tend to provide little training or guidance to staff in dealing with clients with mental illness. Staff are then forced to rely on the (mis)information about mental health conditions they’ve accumulated through their lives to shape their opinions and actions, which can often lead to attitudes and behaviors like the one discussed by the questioner.

I’ve found that most people have a vague conception of what depression is and that it could be connected to suicide, but have little conception of how depression can affect a client’s everyday life. This is especially problematic when agency staff expectations for client’s behavior doesn’t account for the effects of their depression. For example, we often need to gather and review a client’s entire medical record to evaluate the merits of a potential disability claim. This can be a very complicated process – submitting medical records requests to every medical provider from which the client has ever received treatment, wrangling with records departments who want to charge exorbitant fees, following up with records departments who ignore, misplace, or deny records requests. Understanding the effects of depression is key for agency staff in how they instruct clients to gather these records, how they respond if or when a client fails to follow through, and the extent of assistance the staffer is willing to provide the client in this task. I’ve found that for a client with depression, an instruction to “gather all your medical records for us to review” can be so overwhelming and intimidating that they are unable to manage the task. Staff are likely to perceive this client as “not really committed to their case” and insufficiently willing to cooperate with the agency in pursuing their goals. This can mean the difference between providing the assistance a client needs to succeed and closing the case because the client “didn’t really want this benefit.”

Beyond depression, there is virtually no understanding of the variety of mental health disorders or the impact they can have on an individual’s functioning and ability to participate in their own advocacy. Schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder are conflated and often ridiculed. Disorders on the autistic spectrum are not understood at all. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is often dismissed as an overly sensitive reaction to trauma that “everyone has in their lives.”

This lack of understanding means that staff are completely unable to provide reasonable accommodations to clients with mental health disorders. Which in turn means that clients with mental illness, overall as a group, receive less effective and meaningful services from the agency as a whole. Which means that not only are agency resources more likely to benefit folks without mental health issues, but those expended on clients with mental illness are more likely to be wasted and not “land” effectively because they cannot effectively create the change the client is seeking. So, everybody loses.

The solution is more training, education, support, and guidance for agency staff on understanding these issues and providing effective services to this community. While attitudes like those of the intern in the question are unfortunate and disappointing, some of the blame has to be laid at the foot of the agency itself for failing to provide training, policies, and protocols to ensure staff are educated on these issues and know better. So while Prudie’s recognition that the intern’s attitude is fundamentally unacceptable and must be addressed if she hopes to continue in that area of work, I would go one step further and advise the questioner to push for training and support for all staff at her agency to ensure everyone has the information and tools they need to provide effective services to clients with mental illness.

Film Review: HBO’s “Kevorkian” (2010)

8 July, 2010autonomy, bodies, deaths, media and pop culture, movies, othering, representations, social attitudes, televisionassisted suicide, documentary, jack kevorkian, medical practice, medicineAnnaham

Director Matthew Galkin’s documentary Kevorkian (aired on HBO on June 28th; also available on YouTube; ETA: as codeman38 points out below, the YouTube version is, unfortunately, not closed-captioned) is one of those documentaries that I felt nervous about watching, mostly because I was extremely skeptical that it would be anything other than a massive apologia for the man colloquially known as “Dr. Death” in the U.S. news media and among much of the North American public. I was also concerned that my own complicated views on physician-assisted suicide would impact my feelings on whether this documentary was worth the time and emotional energy spent watching it. Like many documentaries, it is a difficult film to watch. It is not uplifting by any means. Parts of it are brutal. Parts of it are frightening. That said, however, I am ultimately glad that I watched this film — not because it “humanizes” Jack Kevorkian or acts as an apologia, but because it deftly explores issues of ethics, law, the power of the media, and legacy.

The entire film is framed by Kevorkian’s ill-fated 2008 bid for a congressional seat representing the state of Michigan — his platform, as the film shows it, leans heavily on the Ninth Amendment — but his congressional hopes are not the most interesting or thought-provoking part of the film. Almost paradoxically, the most interesting part of this documentary is the fact that Kevorkian does a pretty excellent job of not coming across as particularly sympathetic, something that a viewer might not glean from the film’s trailer.

Here, Kevorkian comes off as one majorly self-aggrandizing guy, and it seems like the director does not have to work very hard to make viewers see that Kevorkian can be difficult to deal with. He often seems so enamored of his own ideas, and his own legacy, that he focuses on these things to the detriment of his friends and allies — and, ultimately, his cause. This becomes most clear in one sequence late in the film, where a longtime supporter of Kevorkian’s publicly disagrees with him at a small town hall-style meeting; Kevorkian responds not by answering the man’s questions regarding the Ninth Amendment, civilly discussing his differences of opinion or why he feels the way that he does, but by yelling at him and then forcefully spitting, “I wish you weren’t here [at this meeting]!” Kevorkian’s behavior during the Thomas Youk case is also ethically questionable, as he videotaped Youk’s death in part with the aim of bringing more publicity and media attention to himself and his cause, even though the videotape would most likely put him (Kevorkian) in prison for murder; as one journalist phrases it, Kevorkian wanted to start a “national debate on [physician-assisted suicide]” by appearing on 60 Minutes with the full tape of Youk’s death. The 60 Minutes footage, both of the Youk tape and Kevorkian’s interview with correspondent Mike Wallace, shown in the film is nothing short of chilling; when Kevorkian intones, “Either they go, or I do,” one may pause to consider that a potential “win” of this particular fight would be built on the bodies of those he has “assisted.”

Unfortunately, no one who opposes Kevorkian’s views on assisted suicide — or his political platform, for that matter (with the exception of the former supporter mentioned above) — gets any screen time whatsoever, and this ends up making the film as a whole seem extremely one-sided. As a viewer, I would have been interested in seeing people who oppose Kevorkian’s method and message, particularly since Kevorkian’s former lawyer simplifies the opposition to him, and physician-assisted suicide in general, by casting any opposition as right-wing religious reactionism versus “enlightenment,” thereby erasing the many disability activists who have criticized Kevorkian and his methods. And while Kevorkian certainly does an admirable job of not coming across as anything other than a guy who overestimates his own importance, or gives any consideration to the reasons why some might oppose his methods or message, the film’s lack of any substantial exploration of opposing view(s) was disappointing.

Despite its flaws, Kevorkian is an interesting, thought-provoking and disturbing documentary. As someone who has complex personal feelings about physician-assisted suicide and its ethics, I am of the opinion that this documentary provides a riveting look at the life of a man whose actions have, for better or worse, managed to galvanize the discussion of physician-assisted suicide, and related issues surrounding medical ethics, the media’s role in medical issues, life, death, and quality of life in the United States.

Commenting Note: This is NOT a thread in which to debate the “rightness” or “wrongness” of physician-assisted suicide in general. Please keep your comments to either the issues discussed here, those brought up by the Kevorkian case/media coverage/related topics, or those illuminated in the film. The entire film is available in 9 parts on YouTube [trigger warning for in-depth discussion of PAS, and accessibility warning for lack of closed-captioning].

Damn Y’all White Wolf

23 June, 2010accessibility, creative work, i'm right here, intersectionality, language, othering, representations, social attitudesableism, exclusion, media and pop culture, problematic attitudes, social treatmentkaninchenzero

My [biggest] fandom is White Wolf’s Exalted. I’ve complained about it before and I’ll complain about it again.

I build characters because it’s fun and I often spend a lot of time working at it trying to make a person rather than a collection of attributes. Right now I’m working on a character who I actually have an expectation of playing and as ever I’m borrowing much from my life and some from various other places. This person is a rabbit (specifically this rabbit) shapeshifter with a very big hammer. Ou has told me ou doesn’t speak and I try to listen to my characters when they tell me things.

Also disabled folk can damn well be heroes. They don’t have to ‘overcome’ their conditions neither. I will try to not fuck this up too badly. Transient dysphasia and aphasia are conditions I have personal experience with but not full-time.

Thing is: Because I’m making a new character I’m taking an enormous hit on experience and power — the character I’ve been playing has more than twice as many experience points as the GM is giving me for my rabbit person. Ouch. (But I’m getting to tell a new story.) So I may do something I’m not entirely comfortable with: Use the Flaw system built into the game.

See, you can get points to buy Cool Shit by taking Flaws. Some of them are okay, like being wanted by authorities or being widely known as a demon or whatever. Some of them are more problematic, like missing body parts, mental illnesses, communication and sensory impairments.

Here’s the one for not speaking:

Mute
Cost: 1 pt. or 4 pts.
Your character is unable to speak normally. For one bonus point, the character is simply unable to speak above a whisper, while complete dumbness[1. Hi there, dumb means does not speak! I have not missed you.] grants four bonus points. A character with the one-point version automatically fails all Performance or Presence checks that require public speaking but faces no penalty on social attacks as long as his target can hear him, which requires the target’s player to succeed on a (Perception + Awareness) roll at difficulty 2.

A character with the four-point version of the Flaw automatically fails all Performance or Presence checks based on verbal communication and suffers a -5 penalty on all social attack rolls made for her unless the attack expressly has no verbal component. While there is no universal sign language in the Age of Sorrows, the character and her allies can communicate through an informal sign language if each of them commits one Linguistics slot to it.

Just kind of as an aside they tell us there are no widely-known gestural or tactile languages. None. There aren’t regional languages even. Anyone wanting to use one has to make up their own and teach it to whomever they want to communicate with. Deaf people wanting to build a community are going to have a tricky time of it in canon Exalted.

Sometimes I hate my game. I could use those four bonus points but that’s some horrible shit. But not using this mechanic isn’t going to make it disappear from the game either (there’s another player whose character made use of it — as a hot blind assassin chick). The casual disablism is not exactly unusual for gaming (and this isn’t even the worst example of disablism ((or casual bigotry)) I could pull from Exalted) where currently non-disabled developers assume a currently non-disabled audience and write accordingly. Because heroes are CND or super-crip amirite?

So yeah. I’ll probably do it. I’ll just feel icky about it. :(

Cross-posted: Aperiodically Legible.