Exception not exceptional!

Many moons ago, when I was younger and more resilient, I cringed when facing ableism. Once, while working for a large employer, facilitating a day on Disability Equality, when the recruitment lead said to me: “anyway, this is a waste of time, we don’t employ disabled people because we need our staff to be exceptional".  I asked them why they assumed that disabled workers were not exceptional, they got angry, and shouted back that it was obvious. Despite a clenching in my rear-end, I persevered, and pointed out that this might be a an assumption based on prejudice. The unconscious bias was assuming disabled applicants were ‘a bit rubbish’, a notion I’d qualify it now as ableist these days. I asked gently, that maybe they were voicing an idea they hadn’t fully thought through. ‘And now!’, they replied, ‘you’re just being stupid!’. Ableism twice!!  I bit down on my shame! Here was me thinking I would be valued as an equal- a professional – but treated as a child. I can’t even start to unpick the levels of wrong, or the embarrassment I felt. Fear rose, as let go of feeling competent, qualified and confident.

To this day, when I see ‘exceptional’ in a job advert I shiver. Is it even worth applying? Or will the days I spent on the application end up in someone’s trash file. It’s a difficult one, and hard not to give up altogether. Especially as I know it’s a world where disabled people face great disadvantage, so my efforts need to be greater. The messages we are given are certainly contradictory. I am often asked why I chose not to work for example!? Rarely, is it acknowledged that I keep trying despite the hundreds of applications that have been rejected. And while those around me struggle to find jobs, their unguarded remarks suggest I don’t need one... it’s implied that for disabled people employment is a luxury.  I am told I’m lucky to have made a choice; that somehow being paid the equivalent of 7 months minimum pay over the last decade is a acceptable ‘lifestyle option’. Ten years in which I’ve spent most days filling in job applications or aiming to prove I’m good enough through qualification and experience.

There’s irony that I undertook my PhD on advice it would put me in a better position to get a job. Sadly, the findings seem to suggest I’d have more luck bumping into a three legged unicorn next time I leave the house.

It’s not that I haven’t had really positive experiences gifting my time and energy for free. Partly job experience, partly job satisfaction, and lots of meaningful interaction. But I’m always taken aback when people I’ve trusted then openly tell me they’ve given paid work to those they feel could afford it. Or, as it happened once, forgetting the days of hard work I was happy to offer by questioning we’d worked together. Work a friend payed for. ‘Oh, we thought you needed to keep busy?!’  Few acknowledge that my husband pays for the hours I gift. As I stop applying, and rely on his good nature to keep the roof over our heads. Furthermore, he often picks up the pieces when in tears I realise my contribution was never seen as having any worth.

So this year I’m going to say ‘no’.  Not to those who joyfully accept my presence as adding to their conversation. But ‘no’ to those who don’t even admit to their belief that I’m rubbish, stupid, broken, incompetent and worthless... even when they don’t think it.