Stigma of disability
Handicap accessible Girdwood, Alaska
One thing I want to accomplish in this blog is to draw attention to the communities that we visit with Quincy that are welcoming and accessible. It’s amazing the different vibe you get every time you travel to a new place. It’s not just about the physical accessibility of a community for those in wheelchairs but more about the attitude of the folks who live there. Girdwood is one of those exceptional places. This little community in South Central Alaska isn’t really all that accessible for those who must be in a wheelchair, but the lack of ramps and sidewalks is made up for by the total acceptance of everyone living there for my daughter. People don’t blink twice when we enter our favorite restaurant, Chair 5, they just move their chairs make room for us to pass. No one stares. No one seems to think there is anything unusual about my litle family making our way through the weather to go to the park or the store or anywhere. The children don’t stare, the parents don’t mind…we do not offend or frighten, we aren’t even a curiosity. We are simply a family. It’s one of the few places I have taken Quincy where we are treated as a completely normal family. So, Girdwood has become our haven. We have a small getaway there and spend as much time as we can. We ski and bike and hike and rest and play and we do it every single day without ever being reminded that we are different. Amazing people in an amazing town…anyone with a child like Quincy must try to visit Girdwood someday. It will be worth your effort.
Disability awareness and tolerance
As my family prepares for another weekend, I know that I am going to have to face the inevitable decision about “What are we going to do?” which is a never-ending question from my children. My two children who are not disabled always want to do the stuff normal families do…go to a movie, go shopping, go out to a meal. I am always torn by this because I know I owe my children a regular childhood and yet we are far from a regular family. We are reminded of this constantly whenever we are out in public. What is it about my daughter in a wheelchair that gives other people permission to stare and remind me that we are different? Do people not understand how rude that is? And, beyond the rude element, do they not understand that the minute they draw attention to the fact the my family looks different they have simply ruined my moment? Have they never seen a child in a wheelchair…do we really look that different? And, what is wrong with parents? Why don’t they teach their children that we are all different? We are fat, skinny, different colors, disabled, missing limbs, maybe burned or scarred. Are some so priviliged that their lives have not been touched by tragedy that they haven’t bothered to teach their children to be respectful of those who look different? To children I will simply say “Ask questions if you’d like, but it’s rude to stare”. To their parents, I am less polite. It is an inate reaction to protect Quincy from this and so I will give them my best evil-eye and tell them to ”Stop staring at my child! IT’S RUDE!!” So, sometimes I do not wish for the stress or hassle and chose to remain in the comfort of my home. Other times I am irritated that my family should be deprived of a simple afternoon out, maybe at Costco or Barnes and Noble, because I will have to deal with other people’s rudeness. Quite simply, staring hurts and my life has enough hurt in it already…I do not need strangers adding to it.
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National Vaccine Information Center (NVIC)
