A jar full

I really like Brené Brown’s idea of a jar as a metaphor for trust (2012). The idea works really well to explain the impact of micro- aggression. The way I read it, trust isn’t an all-or-nothing deal, it very much depends on how much mutual respect has built up preceding a specific event. So for example, if on the whole someone has been particularly thoughtful around me [pretty full jar] I’m far less likely to take an aggression seriously. Equally if I forget to phone, I’d hope most would appreciate the effort I’ve gone to previously to keep in touch. Over time trust grows in relationships, allowing effort shared to find a rhythm in fair exchange. I might do the cleaning more often, if you peg out the washing… I’m happy to do what comes easy or I find less stressful, if in return people do what they find easier while acknowledging effort made.

 

Credit  @inteligencia_eco

Problems multiply when stereotypes skew expectation and reciprocity. For example, when people assume same effort equals same task. If, like many disabled people I know, energy is a precious commodity, then meeting someone half way is far harder. This will empty the jar over time. Many will no doubt pay this ‘relationship tax’ without much question... My ableism is so well embedded I have sought to add twice as much to the jar in the past…. Unfortunately, I literally can’t do it now, I simply don’t have any jar-stuff to spare. By breakfast I’m struggling to keep going. Most people get this, until they forget. Then aggressions may slip in, but on a full jar little is lost. Bigger harm is done when people don’t think to begin with, assumptions then tend to tumble from lips, in ways that challenge those of us least able to interrupt their impact. Personally, I find people are far more willing to accommodate for physical effort, but more likely to ignore the emotional demands of chronic issues. These can be debilitating, if not draining. 

 

Evidence suggest that the disabled population pay a far higher price than most people think in terms of fitting in. The emotional labour is huge! The energy involved in participation is expected and rarely acknowledged. This means that in order to be part of shared activity, it up to disabled people to pay the cost. This often means ignoring, or playing down, the micro aggressions that – while unintentional – suck the joy out of being together. Most people guess that their experience is the same as others, therefore it’s harm to repeatedly keeping in mind that some may find it challenging or difficult, and very tiring, to be in the room. The storytelling we share rarely highlights the difficulty people face, more often the telling sits with the generosity of host good enough to open the door or respond to positively. Avoiding micro aggressions demands two things, very much like empathy, it’s a double loop. First we need to acknowledged that what doesn’t not upset us, ableism here, may be painful to others. Secondly, in conversation we need to avoid repeating hurtful assumptions without thinking. For example, rather than ‘no way’, ‘you’re joking’ or ‘never happens!’, say ‘yeah, I can imagine living with that is hard’. 

 

 

From the thesis

 

A history of segregation hasn’t helped, than three decades ago disabled people were all but invisible on the streets (Berghs, Atkin, Graham, Hatton, & Thomas, 2017). Disabled people had few personal stories in the public domain, and largely they lived in institutions or behind the closed doors of private homes (Humphries & Gordon, 1992). A recursive loop has seen a shift backwards in public consciousness over the last decade (Goodley, 2014), in a climate where disabled people are subject to daily attacks and the nature of the crisis in its manifestation emerges from far wider vilification (Quarmby, 2011), hate and harassment. Even the most minor omissions and micro-aggressions are poisonous as they add up in a myriad ways to harm those exposed to them daily. These can include physical proximity, denial of gender, infantilisation, ridicule, disregard and banalisation. Easily dismissed by some as caring, teasing or friendly, this is clearly not how non-disabled people are treated according to those with an ableist sensitivity. As bloggers remark, the subtle messages communicated by these careless acts are negative and condescending (Lu, 2016). No doubt the product of bias, they are untypical in ordinary everyday exchanges, they are the very personal end of a more indistinct yet sizeable wedge driving hate crime (Quarmby, 2011). This wedge, when lodged deep in the spleen, is neither recognisable nor understood as the multi-layered juggernaut it is to those who can articulate it. 

 

 

Works Cited

Berghs, M., Atkin, K., Graham, H., Hatton, C., & Thomas, C. (2017, 6 24). Public health, research and rights: the perspectives of deliberation panels with politically and socially active disabled people. Disability & Society, pp. 945-965.

Brown, B. (2012). Dearing greatly: How the courage to be vulnerable transforms the way we live, love, parent, and lead. London: Pengiun Books Ltd.

Goodley, D. (2014). Dis/ability Studies: Theorising disablism and ableism. London: Routlege.

Humphries, S., & Gordon, P. (1992). Out of Sight; The experience of disability 1900-1950. Plymouth: Channel Four.

Lu, W. (2016, 10). 13 Microaggressions People With Disabilities Face On A Daily Basis. Retrieved 10 22, 2017, from Bustle: https://www.bustle.com/articles/186060-13-microaggressions-people-with-disabilities-face-on-a-daily-basis

Quarmby, K. (2011). Scapegoat [Kindle Edition]. London: Portobello Books Ltd.