Tag Archives: social treatment

Does Outright Speculation Make This Disabled Feminist Angry?

28 December, 2009autonomy, blaming, For Cereal?, intersectionality, media and pop culture, medical practice, normality, shaming, social attitudes, Uncategorizedableism, Big Bad Pharma, chronic pain conditions, drugs are bad mmm'kay, media and pop culture, medical care, pain management, pop culture, privilege, problematic attitudes, social treatmentAnnaham

Answer: Yes.

Let’s talk about this piece-of-crap article recently published on that oh-so-“liberal” news n’ culture site, Salon.com. I’m prefacing this post with a warning for ableist language and concepts on the part of the article’s author, Rahul K. Parikh, M.D. The article begins as follows:

There was a time when a celebrity’s sudden death almost invariably meant illegal drugs…[a]nd so it seems with Brittany Murphy, the bubbly and bright actress who died of cardiac arrest at 32.

Yes, it seems. Point is, we don’t know much yet. There are other health-related issues or conditions that can lead to cardiac arrest, but is this acknowledged? Of course not! Parikh continues:

The coroner’s notes allegedly claim a pharmacopia in Murphy’s bathroom cabinet: Topamax (for seizures or migraines), methylprednisolone (a steroid), fluoxetine (an antidepressant), Klonopin (for anxiety), carbamazepine (for seizures or bipolar disorder), Ativan (for anxiety), Vicoprofen (pain reliever), propranolol (for hypertension, migraines or anxiety), Biaxin (an antibiotic), and hydrocodone (a narcotic pain reliever). Gone are the days of shameful crack pipes and empty gin bottles.

OH MY GOD, EVERYBODY PANIC.

Murphy’s medications, like those of [Heath] Ledger and Anna Nicole Smith, are on the shelves of your local drugstore, available with a simple trip to the doctor — or doctors — whom you merely need to convince that you need the stuff. Did one doctor prescribe her those meds? Did 10? We don’t yet know. But as a doctor myself, I just kept wondering (and not for the first time): What if doctors were more like librarians? Would Brittany Murphy still be alive?

Cue scary music! THE DANGER IS ON THE SHELVES OF YOUR LOCAL DRUGSTORE. Nevermind that people with chronic pain conditions and disabilities have to jump through numerous, often ridiculous hoops just to get, say, a month’s supply of medications that help them function and/or live life to the fullest extent possible. As one of these people, I am of the opinion that Parikh is being rather disingenuous here; these drugs, at least for us “average” folk with chronic pain issues, are usually not easy to obtain.

After nattering about how the medical field should follow the example of public libraries when it comes to monitoring people and their books meds, he continues:

One of the many negative consequences of such fragmentation is how ridiculously easy it can be to get drugs. Most doctors know patients who have desperately angled to get a prescription they don’t need, usually highly addictive pain medicines like Percocet or OxyContin. This is what we call “doctor shopping,” hopping from one physician to the next until they find someone willing to write a script. When the supply dries up, they go to another doctor, and then another. One 53-year-old man in California visited 183 doctors and 47 pharmacies in one year to support his addiction to painkillers.

Hey, nice use of anecdata there! What on earth does one 53 year-old guy in California have to do with Brittany Murphy’s situation? As for “most doctors” knowing a patient who has “angled” for meds they “don’t need” (who makes that judgement, I wonder?): cry me a goddamn river. The endless Helen Lovejoy-gasping about ADDICTION!!1 in fact makes it incredibly hard for some of us who need these medications to obtain them, and no amount of 1984-esque War is Peace anecdata–from someone, no less, who is supposed to help people in pain as part of his chosen occupation–is going to change that.

In short, the experiences of people with chronic pain are going be different than those of an able-bodied doctor, but nowhere is this acknowledged in this article–nor is it mentioned in many larger conversations about painkillers and (possible) ADDICTION!!11.

Most of us who need these medications do not have the energy to doctor-shop. I do not wish to deny that painkiller addiction is a serious problem; it is, for some. Sadly, these sorts of “conversations” on the specter of supposedly widespread PAINKILLER ADDICTION!!!1–much like those focusing on the OBESITY CRISIS!!11–tend to focus entirely too much attention on extreme cases and anecdata, leaving out those who need these medications for legitimate medical reasons, and, I might add, some of whom spend a great portion of time proving said legitimacy in order to show that they are not addicts or doctor-shoppers.

But if “preventing” ADDICTION!11 in able-bodied people via endless hand-wringing about who “really” needs these drugs versus who doesn’t is the number one priority here, that is a problem. Yet again, the needs of those who are judged by society as most “important” or productive or fitting into able-bodied society are taken seriously, and the needs of those who do not fit this mold–because they need painkillers for actual pain and are therefore bad/unproductive/just a bunch of whiners–are ignored, or worse, actively shamed and castigated for things or circumstances that they cannot control.

And, as OuyangDan pointed out so eloquently on this very blog, there are a lot of things that we don’t know about Brittany Murphy’s death. Using her death as a poorly-researched, almost totally speculative “example” of the dangers of painkiller ADDICTION!!11 is not only tasteless, but it distracts from how ridiculously the concerns about painkillers, “legitimacy” and the specter of addiction are often framed by (mostly privileged) people who do not deal with these things in their daily lives.

Less infuriating: Many of the commenters seem to agree that this article and its “speculation” went too far, which is unusual for Salon commenters, as most of them tend to exemplify the worst of privileged white “liberalism” on a regular basis (as you would expect, this includes loads of abled privilege and the anecdata to back up their uninformed opinions).

Subtitles in Assassin’s Creed II and Ubisoft’s Pledge

27 December, 2009accessibility, feminism, intersectionality, media and pop culture, social attitudesaccessibility, feminism, media and pop culture, social treatment, video gamesOuyang Dan

I am somewhat of a gamer. I am not by any means an avid gamer or someone you should call up with questions. If you want a review of how easy a game is to play or how not confusing your controls are, I am your girl*.

I am mostly a computer gamer. I like my World of Warcraft just fine, thank-you. It has a lot of room for critique, and I have some letter writing campaigns to Blizzard in progress. But I like it. I have no love for Warhammer Online, having never played it after being promised by multiple reliable sources that I would be able to play it on my Mac, and after purchasing the Special Edition in order to get into the Beta, was most unpleasantly surprised. Whatthefuckever, I turned that store credit into a Wii Fit, something I actually used. And, no, I don’t care that you can now get it for Mac, they already shat in my Cinnamon Life. I am digressing when I just wanted to say that I prefer computer over console because I tend to find console controls too confusing for me — all the button combinations are too much to keep track of. I like to set up my buttons in a row and get my “Pew Pew Moar” on. If it is more complicated than original Nintendo’s Super Mario Bros., I don’t really enjoy it. I just don’t have the reaction times or memory to figure out all of those buttons (and I don’t need an evo psych lecture on how girls just don’t have those skills, because I have many gamer skills that translate well into the PvP aspects of WoW…I just don’t have it for console gaming).

One thing that endeared me to WoW, however, is that all the dialogue is subtitled. I am not deaf, but I do sometimes have trouble sorting dialogue out from ambient noise, both in game and out. I don’t want to have to miss something in an otherwise mostly enjoyable game because I can’t understand what the NPCs are saying. It doesn’t matter how high you turn the volume, you just can’t get everything. WoW even lets me know when someone is yelling.

Back to console games…

One console game that I did pick up was Ubisoft’s Assassin’s Creed. There was a lot of excitement over this game, it was anxiously awaited — one of the most anticipated games of the year of its release. There was also a huge deal surrounding one of its lead developers that I will leave you to read up on, — I just am too tired to rehash it — I was thrilled that it didn’t stop Jade Raymond from being a part of ASII’s team (no transcript at the link). Just for a fun exercise, Google “Jade Raymond + Assassin’s Creed II” and see how many search results come up with anything that has to do with how good she is at being a video game developer or producer, and then tell me why more women don’t go into that industry. The team at Ubisoft put in the beginning of the game that it was developed by a team of multi-cultural and religiously sensitive people from many diverse backgrounds. I found the game fantastic. The Guy beat it in just a couple of days (he eats games for breakfast like that), even if the ending did make him want to put it in the freezer, and even though I have only recently tried it, I have really enjoyed it. To me, the controls are really simple, the game play is methodical (note: things that really piss some gamers off appeal to me, as in part of my OC nature really likes the repetitive storyline, and the different things to complete. I *love* that, because it allows me to zone out, clearing my mind.), and the game itself is Really Fucking Beautiful. I love going to all the checkpoints and using the “eagle vision”, just viewing the cities.

One aspect that was missing from this design team, it seems, was someone who had input on accessibility, because one complaint I had, even before I was invested in disability activism to the degree I am now, is that it had no subtitles. Like I said, I often miss dialogue during cut scenes, and even if that does not affect my game play, it affects my gaming experience.

When Assassin’s Creed II came out I read in The Guys Game Informer that they made a lot of changes based on what fans wrote to Ubisoft asking for. Before I was willing to get this for The Guy for X-mas this year, I needed to see two things: 1) That the playable character could not drown in a two fucking inches of water, and 2) subtitles. Well what do you know, this iteration’s assassin can fucking swim, and Assassin’s Creed II includes subtitles for all of the game play.

Rawk.

We have it, and it both translates the Italian and has decent subtitles, although it doesn’t describe non-spoken sounds.

There’s more.

Ubisoft, apparently has made a commitment that they will always include the considerations of deaf and hard-of-hearing gamers in the development phases of their gaming creation. This is exciting news for me, coming from a company that I have come to really like. By like, I mean, has made the first non-Nintendo based console game that I can actually play (this is also because I find the new black controller included w/ the X-Box Elite military appreciation smaller than the original, and fits comfortably in my hands, even on a moderate pain day).

I am looking forward to finishing Assassin’s Creed so that I can move on to ASII, if for no other reason than for the subtitles. I wish they had made this pledge long ago. It is worth noting that I read on a gamer message board somewhere (I can’t find it now) that someone had written them, and they responded, saying they took that complaint very seriously, and now, here they have. This has raised Ubisoft in my mind.

Like it was hard to do at this point.

*I do sometimes call myself girl. I don’t have a problem with this.

More articles on subtitles in video games: Subtitles: Increasing Game Accessibility, Comprehension (Gamasutra)

On Speculation and Boundaries…

21 December, 2009disability activism, feminism, justice, media and pop culture, social attitudesableism, abuse, feminism, media and pop culture, problematic attitudes, social treatment, things people sayOuyang Dan

Brittany Murphy died today.

It took exactly five seconds for the speculation to start up about why she would die of cardiac arrest at the tender age of 32, and not quite double that for the snarky comments to seep out of the woodwork. Because certainly if she had an existing heart condition we all would have known about it, since we have that right to her privacy.

What we have, much like the public consumption we have of celebrities, especially women, is a perceived right to make snap judgments about their lives and their health.

Brittany Murphy’s death is tragic on its own merits. She was talented and only 32.

And if there is any truth to the speculation, then she was sick. If she was indeed sick, then we, despite what we think, do not have a right to flaunt that illness about. She was ill, and she lost. And to me, that means something, on a human, and mortal level. There but for the grace and all of that. When I read the comments that speculate about what illnesses she certainly had or what addictions would be necessary to cause this premature death it is like nails on a chalkboard while chewing tinfoil whilst walking on broken glass but not the fun Annie Lennox version with adorably mistreated Hugh Laurie. If there is any truth to it then she was one of us. She was possibly like me and she lost. That scares me at my core. That was one of us in there and instead of having a moment to appreciate the gravity of that we are ripping her apart and we don’t even know. We Don’t Fucking Know.

Also, last I checked it is bad form to speak ill of the dead. But I suppose I am still an idealistic, silly girl to expect people to treat other people with human dignity. I have spent too much time in social justice for that.

If not, then her death was simply a tragic and random happenstance.

If any information is released, we have to wait for it and presume that it is the truth, and if not, we have to go on with what we have.

And either way, it isn’t our business, really.

She died, and that itself is enough. It should be. She gave us entertainment and amusement. She did what she loved with her life.

We should give her a modicum of respect in death.

May she rest in peace.

A brief PSA on language

20 November, 2009101, activism, justice, language, social attitudesableism, assholes, culture, essential concepts, feminism, fuck that, i thought you were supposed to be my ally, justice, language, privilege, privilege-check, problematic attitudes, shaming, social treatment, speak up, stereotypes, things people sayamandaw

So many people have complained that it is asking too much of abled people to stop using words they consider trivial: crazy, insane, lunatic, idiot, moron, dumb, blind, etc.

I beg to differ.

You know what is really damn easy? Erasing these words from your vocabulary. All you have to do is stop saying them.

You know what is really hard?

Confronting people on their use of same language.

We aren’t even asking you to do the hard work. We aren’t asking you to tell other people to stop using that language. We aren’t asking you to confront other people on their use of that language. We aren’t asking you to explain why it is problematic, to answer people’s questions, to deal with their redirection tactics, or to handle the attacks on and harassment of the people negatively affected by that language that such confrontations always seem to draw.

You don’t have to take the brunt of it. You don’t have to deal with the negative consequences. You don’t have to face employment discrimination, street harassment, caretaker abuse, and other people’s general cluelessness about our lives. You get to sit tight in your privilege, enjoying it without even realizing you’re doing it.

All you have to do is cut a few words out of your speaking and/or writing vocabulary. That’s it.

We’re the ones who are putting our safety on the line trying to change the cultural system that oppresses us.

Two seconds to reconsidering what you’re really trying to say? Easy.

Changing other people’s deep-seated attitudes? Really damn hard.

How do you think we feel when you complain that two seconds is just tooooo haaaaard for you to take on?

(Cross-posted at three rivers fog.)

“Bad Cripple”

19 November, 2009accessibility, autonomy, blaming, shaming, social attitudesableism, accommodations, awareness, barriers to access, conceptions of disability, rethinking social norms, social treatmentAnna

Last month, I went to a non-partisan Campaign School, where women learned the nuts and bolts of running a winning campaign for political office in Canada. We all said a bit about ourselves, and I stood up and introduced myself as a Disability Rights Activist.

I spent the rest of the weekend being told how “Bad Cripples” are ruining the system for everyone else, and how every problem that I discussed, from how low disability-support payments were to how difficult it is to get around the city with a wheelchair, was caused by That Person.

You know That Person. The one Everyone Knows who doesn’t have a real disability. They could work – of course they could! – they’re just in it to scam the system. This One is bad because whatever he claims about his disability, it’s obviously exaggerated because no one could be in that much pain. That One is bad because she decided to move to another province where the disability support payments are better – obviously she’s just in it for the money.

Regardless of where someone fell in the political spectrum, they felt it very important that I knew that it wasn’t the government’s lack of support for people with disabilities and their families, it wasn’t the surplus of societal barriers, it wasn’t even their own individual fears of disability that caused any financial distress. It’s those Bad Cripples who scam the system and totally ruin it for the Good, Deserving Ones.

People tell me anecdotes about Their Friend (or a Friend of a Friend) who totally confessed to scamming the system, or they tell me about how Their Friend isn’t really disabled, and they can tell, because of X, Y, or Z.

I’m going to confess something to you: According to the way a lot of people define “Bad Cripples”, Don and I are really Bad Cripples.

I’ll start out with the comments. Both of us have very bleak senses of humour, and both of us (me especially) say some of the most awful things. These include things like “I just married him for the disability cheques,” “Damn it, I should have lied and told everyone your Cancer spread so I could get extra time to finish my assignments,” “Oh, Don fakes not being able to talk very loudly so he doesn’t have to deal with the Student Loan people”, and even “Oh, the wheelchair’s just for show.”

You might be thinking “That’s obviously you joking around, Anna! No one really thinks you’re serious.”

Yes, yes they do. All the time. I’ve been talked to by professors about my joking comments about Don’s Cancer, and asked not to make them in front of other students. I’ve gotten really angry @replies on twitter about some of them. I have an email I can’t quite get myself to delete that’s all about how I’m a horrible wife who’s just using Don for his money.

I have no doubt that people have said, either to you or someone you know, something that sounds like they’re just gaming the system, including a breezy “Oh, I’m just gaming the system.” But you have no idea if they’re serious or not, or what their circumstances are, or how much pressure they’re under, internally or externally, to “pass for normal”.

The second reason people think of “fakers” is the “I know stories of people who don’t have real disabilities and they get all this financial support!”

Here’s the thing: I don’t have an obligation to tell you what my ability status is.

My ability status is between me and my doctor. I have made the choice to share it with a few friends, and my husband. I don’t have to tell you. I don’t have to tell my teachers. I don’t have to tell the pharmacist, the person who’s demanding I justify my tax-status, or my landlord. I have not discussed it with Student Accessibility Services on campus. I have not disclosed to the people on any of the committee meetings I’m on. I didn’t tell anyone at Campaign School.

Because it is none of their business.

I do not owe it to you, or anyone else, to explain why we’re raking in those big disability cheques.

I also want you to consider that you don’t always know what disability will look like.

You can’t tell by looking at my friend with the mental health condition that she tried to climb out a third floor window and jump because she couldn’t take the idea of another day at her job, but you can probably tell she isn’t working right now while she recovers from the experience. You can’t tell by looking at my friend that she was bullied so badly at work that she has panic attacks whenever she thinks of stepping foot in the neighbourhood of her former workplace. Until Don got his cane, and then his wheelchair, lots of people wanted to know why he wasn’t working – aren’t people who have mobility issues always in wheelchairs?

I know people who tell me “Bad Cripple” stories are trying to be helpful. They want me to know that they understand how difficult it is, and that if it weren’t for all those Bad, Faking Cripples out there, Don and I wouldn’t be living entirely off the largess of his family and my scholarship money. (The government expects that I should take out student loans to pay for Don’s medication that he needs to live. Oh goody – overwhelming debt in exchange for a husband who lives! Thanks, Nova Scotia! You continue to be awesome. Yes, the big disability cheques comment was a joke.) What I think they don’t want to do is question why it is so difficult. Bad Cripple stories give us someone – a conveniently faceless group that Doesn’t Include Us – to blame.

I think a lot of people are going to rush to tell me stories about how this all may be true, but they totally know of this person who is totally lying about being disabled. Please consider whether or not that anecdote will contribute to a conversation, or just remind people with disabilities that they’re viewed with suspicion and have to prove their status to you.