Tag: #equality

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Book review: Gender Equity & Reconciliation 

I was recently humbled to learn about Gender Equity and Reconciliation International (GERI) through their book published by Hohm Press in 2022. Gender Equity & Reconciliation is authored by William Keepin and Cynthia Brix, along with other authors and contributors.  

The book explores and explains the program of Gender Equity and Reconciliation that has been conducted around the world in the last thirty years. The process is aimed at creating a world free of gender oppression and violence, through a creation of what is referred to as a ‘Beloved Community’ of a connected, healed human family.

 The book explains in great detail what a participant of a GERI workshop goes through, and I found it fascinating and enriching to learn about how people share deep truths and traumas, connect with others and change their perspectives about themselves and each other. The process as a whole and in particular the creation of safe spaces for deep sharing, is admirable and exciting. 

Liel reading the book Gender Quite & Reconciliation. Liel is sitting on a grey couch, holding the book in front of their face. Behind them is an Aboriginal print in a black frame.
Reading Gender Equity & Reconciliation [ID: Liel reading the book Gender Quite & Reconciliation. Liel is sitting on a gray couch, holding the book in front of their face. Behind them is an Aboriginal print in a black frame. ]

I am left with several thoughts and feelings after reading this book. The main feelings are curiosity and hope. It is heartwarming and hopeful to know that such a deep process exists where people can get together to heal, witness each others’ truths and work towards creating a future that is free from gender based oppression and violence. 

I am also curious to experience this process, that due to its’ experiential and spiritual nature cannot be truly understood until one experiences it. I’m curious to know how the process feels like, and how someone who is disabled, and gender non-conforming like me may experience the workshops. 

A lot in the philosophy of the work has resonated with me. The focus on forgiveness and the distinction between tackling the patriarchy as opposed to a particular gender were important ones. Forgiveness is seen as something that can set us free, and with my knowledge of psychological wellbeing, I agree. 

“This freedom is twofold–a genuine freedom from the past, and also the freedom to choose and live into our bright and auspicious future.”  

I also connected with the GERI philosophy around the need for all genders to come together in order to bring about the true social change we are seeking. The book skillfully argues that the work of women only or men only, or LGBTIQA+ only groups have been needed, but alone are not sufficient to bring about the beloved community we seek. Thus, in order to bring about a world free of gender-based and other forms of oppression, we all need to work together. 

This book and the premises on which the work is based illuminated issues and connections, which I have not considered before, but rang true and important. One is the lack of spirituality in our modern societies, and its relevance to gender oppression. Another critical issue the book illuminated for me was the connection between gender based violence to state based violence.  

As a person who was born into state violence, oppression and military occupation, I was struck by the following: “The best predictor of a nation’s peacefulness is not: its level of wealth, its degree of democracy, or whether it is rooted in any particular religion. The best predictor of a nation’s peacefulness is its level of violence against women.” This fact highlights how critical the work of gender equity and reconciliation is, not just in healing individuals, communities and countries, but in healing our entire ‘human family’.

A challenging part of reading the book for me was the occasional avoidance of politics within the Gender Equity and Reconciliation process. The authors explain that the process aims to go alongside politics, rather than replacing it. Violations of human rights however, are always intermingled with politics. 

At times I felt the avoidance of politics was getting in the way of the work. For instance, a chapter about gender injustice ended with an article about #MeToo written by a man, who focussed on a woman offering herself sexually to him in an inappropriate setting. Although undoubtedly unintended, this left me feeling unseen, as a female who experienced many sexual harassments and even violence. 

Another example was that rights violations relating to abortion were rarely mentioned when discussing gender and sex based exploitation and violence. In both these instances, I felt that the avoidance of politics created a hole in the story, and therefore the needed conversations and solutions. In order to make sure that true gender reconciliation can happen, we need inclusive policies that protect everyone. The spirit of the work was certainly inclusive and I’m hopeful that issues relating to abortion rights violation and centering marginalised voices can continue to grow.

The book itself was rather long and I imagine most readers would struggle to finish it, although would probably benefit from learning about the process. It should also be noted that the content of the book at times can be challenging or triggering to read, as it covers traumatic experiences of gender based traumas including rape, sexual assault and violence. I think the telling of these stories is incredibly important, and ideally should be prefaced by a content note to help readers stay safe. I would definitely recommend a shortened version of the work, and would be delighted to attend a GERI workshop one day if I had the opportunity. 

The biggest question left with me after reading Gender Equity and Reconciliation is whether disability has been considered in depth in the workshops’ design. Intersectionality has been considered from the perspectives of culture, race, religion, and LGBTIQA+. I would love to know more about if and how the intersections between gender, disability and other forms of oppression have been explored, and how the GERI model can be applied to disability rights. 

Near the end of the book, the aim of this work is again articulated: “The larger purpose of Gender Equity and Reconciliation is not only to forgive and reconcile the past–but also to transcend the past and rewrite the gender future of humanity.” 

the book Gender Equity & Reconciliation leaning against in indoor plant. The book has a blue and white cover with deep red, dark blue and white text. The text reads: Gender Equity & Reconciliation Thirty Years of Healing the Most Ancient Wound in the Human Family WILLIAM KEEPIN AND CYNTHIA BRIX WITH: KARAMBU RINGERA GARRETT EVANS DESIREE ENGLISH WILLIAM DIPLOCK ESTHER DIPLOCK LUCILLE MEYER-SILVIA ARAYA MYRA KINDS JORGE RICO SAMANTHA VAN SCHALKWYK ANSAR ANWAR LAURIE GAUM HARIN JEONG JABU MASHININI TRISTAN JOHANNES MICHELE BREENE JULIEN DEVEREUX FOREWORD BY MPHO TUTU VAN FURTH]

I join the authors in this hope: that one day we will rewrite the future of humanity, and that this will be done together, with disabled and multiply marginalised people at the heart rather than the margins of society. 

Thank you to Book Publicity Services for sending me a copy. 

Liel K. Bridgford

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(Un)marginalised S2, E6 with Carly Findlay OAM

The final episode of (Un)marginalised Season 2 has been created from our launch event for this season. It includes some audience responses and even a part of our audience Q & A.

In this episode I told the story behind the (Un)marginalised podcast, then spoke with Carly Findlay about ableism, lateral violence, connection & mentorship, curiosity versus nosiness, Intersectional Feminism, disability advocacy, disabled leadership and much more!

  • Content note for ableism, sexism, racism and sexual violence

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Please note the views expressed by the interviewees do not necessarily reflect my own.

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(Un)marginalised: S2, E5 with Laura Pettenuzzo

In this week’s episode of the podcast, I spoke with Laura Pettenuzzo about internalised ableism, how using a wheelchair can be easier than walking, physio, writing days, spoons, dating with disabilities, easy English, how our intersections shape our reading and writing, chopped vegetables. 

Content note: ableism, internalised ableism, mental health. 

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(Un)marginalised: S2, E4 with Zoe Simmons

In this episode of the podcast, I spoke with Zoe Simmons about chronic pain, how weight and gender shapes our experience of the medical system, internalised ableism, changing our relationship with mobility aids, mental health challenges, shame, pride and so much more!

Content note: this episode contains discussions about fatphobia, ableism, Mental illness, suicide, sexual harrasment and assault

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Becoming Comfortable With Being Uncomfortable

Content note: this piece contains mentions of military violence, military occupation and indoctrination.

By the time I leave this earth in my current form, I hope our societies have changes somewhat – to become more just and equal. With time and learning, my understanding and knowledge of global and local injustices only increases. This can come with an increasing sense of doom, as the load of a just world feels heavier by the day.

Change does not spontaneously happen – it happens only when we bring it about. This is why I consider speaking out, learning and trying to do better – as moral obligations. Trying to figure out the most effective ways to create change is the hardest part. There are many questions that come to mind. Recently I’ve mulled over this one – Do we have to publicly explore the trauma we’re working to prevent in order to create justice?

Recently I finished reading The Mother Wound by Amani Haydar, and it has convinced me of the answer to this question. In The Mother Wound, the author explores the various personal implications of her own and her family’s trauma. She shares specific violent incidents, occasionally in graphic details, but always in an empathetic way that leaves the reader no choice but to feel the experiences, to step into the shoes of her mother and herself. The details around the lives of her family in Lebanon, and the way her grandmother was killed, were vivid. The pastoral village life, her grandmother’s love and resilience become crucial in my understanding, as the reader, of their motives, wishes, values and aspirations. I related to their extremely common human needs for safety, love, community, and purpose.

Then when the violent and inexplicable attack on civilians is described in the most details available, I could not help but feel outraged, shocked, angered, and extremely sad. Soon many other feelings surfaced, including hopelessness, desperation, and a deep desire to translate the work to Hebrew so that every Israeli can read it. 

Because Haydar shared her family’s trauma, a significant shift has occurred in my mind. Despite being aware of the occupation by the Israeli government of Palestine, until reading this book I thought the majority of methods used by the military were genuinely necessary, and executed with high care for human life and international law. This idea, that has taken roots in me via years of informal and formal education, media and cultural beliefs, was at once shattered.*

Suddenly, the military ‘protecting’ my country of birth and citizenship, was painted with a completely different brush. The military I was taught was essential to protect the Israeli people and that was the most powerful whilst humane in the world, the military every Israeli citizen must join at 18, the one I served in for nearly three years – was not what I was always led to believe it was.

This military was suddenly exposed as the one who sends secret agents that brutaly kill Lebanese civilians simply because they identify with the liberation of Palestinians. The same army we were told always considers human life at their highest priority, was suddenly exposed as the army that bombed a clearly marked civilian line of vehicles. Those vehicles carried women, men, children. The youngest victim of this attack was only a year old. An innocent baby. There were no military targets in the area. The traumatic implications of this violent attack naturally reverberates through generations and continents, yet no government or military personnel have taken responsibility. This cannot be described in lesser terms then the unjust act of cruelty by a hating, racist oppressor. My entire worldview has shifted.

This book immediately challenged not only everything I thought I knew about my country, our soldiers, our ‘safety and security’ policies, our governments, but it also completely challenged my perception of who we are as people, and by extension, of who I am, who I was, and many of the decisions I have made in the past. I’ve always struggled with integral aspects of the culture I was raised in. But this book brushed my already non-favourable perceptions with a metallic, bloodied red.

If the author would have left this part of her story out, this perception change would not have happened. Shaking our beliefs, looking at people, ideas, values and actions from a different angle is difficult. It is challenging and can make any of us feel uneasy. We have a psychological bias to search for information that confirms what we know and believe, and experiencing anything outside of that is always a conscious, effortful choice. Without this discomfort though, we as communities and humans will never progress. Stepping out of our comfort zone to read an opinion we disagree with, or watch something we wouldn’t normally choose, is how we learn, develop, and grow.

As long as we remain living in unjust, unequal and unsafe communities, trauma must be explored, expressed and revealed to the public. This is certainly not to say that we should trauma dump**. Nor do we need to constantly or carelessly share our and our people’s traumas. Care and consideration is key, but the sharing is crucial. By sharing how a traumatic oppressive system, relationship, event or person has affected us, we help others understand. We can help someone else step into our shoes – feel, relate and perhaps even shift their perspective. This is essential if we want to see any social change. Change will not happen on its own, but by the power of people choosing change. Only with opening our eyes, our hearts and our minds, will we ever progress towards a just, equal world. 

If you believe in the pursuit of justice, if you believe that every human deserves to live their best life, to have access to safe communities, welcoming spaces, equal opportunities, and to be free of harm, then you must become comfortable with being uncomfortable. Tuning into others’ experience to understand is our duty to our fellow world citizens.

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford

*Note that although even the recent war in Israel/Gaza involved killing of children, the Israeli government and army officials have insisted on the care and importance of the military targets behind the attacks. Furthermore, Israeli propaganda tells citizens that families are always warned and given opportunities to keep safe. My levels of belief in these messages were shaky but still somehow intact until I read The Mother Wound.

**trauma dump refers to the exercise by which one shares unedited traumatic experiences without warning, structure or purpose beyond personal unloading.

P.S. note that I don’t advocate to trauma dump or disregard your own right to safety when engaging with others’ lived experience. Rather, healing is a communal responsibility. As the sharer, it is one’s responsibility to make apparent what it is you will be covering (for instance through trigger warnings or content notes) and provide sources of support. As the audience, it is our responsibility to always look after ourselves before, during and after we engage with others’ stories. This will mean different things to different people, but can include engaging with material in safe spaces and times, or reaching out to others for support, encouragement or debrief. 

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Make Mental Health a Priority

Trigger warning: mental health, anxiety, mention of suicidal thoughts and a brief mention of suicide attempts. 

Mental health has been for many years and in many cultures, a taboo topic to be avoided. The mental health of individuals with physical disability is often overlooked in the medical system and society. Still to this day, specialist clinics caring for infants and children with disabilities rarely employ mental health trained professionals, nor does emotional, psychological or social wellbeing is included in treatment goals and choices. I know this from working in mental health and from my personal and community experience. 

We know that children and adults with physical disabilities are more susceptible to social difficulties, mental distress, suicide thoughts and attempts[i]. It has previously been recommended that physicians become aware of such issues[ii]. Unfortunately, little seemed to have changed since my days of growing up in the 1990’s. 

When I was growing up, my treatments, managed by leading paediatric orthopaedic surgeons, focused on my leg’s shape, length and angle. The social, emotional and psychological implications of my treatments and disability, were a sidenote for my family to deal with. My family has done their best to handle my huge feelings as I was growing up, with little mental health literacy or support. Throughout the years I have gone through multiple traumas, stemming from my environment, rather than my body. My self-esteem and self-worth have suffered as I’ve watched only able-bodied people succeeding in society. I’ve experienced anxiety and suicidal thoughts as I was excluded and forced to quietly take bullying and discrimination (Just ignore it!). I’ve developed a problematic relationship with food and my body. It is no wonder – as a kid who was repeatedly told by society and their doctors they are broken.

There was never appropriate support for my mental health or social barriers. When I expressed distress brought about by bullying or unsolicited treatment or discrimination – the message was that I needed to handle these on my own, or within the family. The psychological and social issues impacting me were my burden to carry, and if I couldn’t cope – well, that was not an option. 

My mental health has significantly improved throughout the years since the end of my treatment – not because my leg is ‘normal’ (it isn’t), but because I have gained control over my life and body, as well as a community to connect with and a voice to advocate with. Using knowledge, vocabulary and safe spaces I acquired, I can now recognise more clearly when I’m struggling. I have learned what my anxiety feels like and how my downward spirals look like. Facing my mental health just like any other health issue, helps me find old and new strategies to channel my strengths and handle distress. I often write some of my best pieces in weird mental spaces!  

I have been very lucky to have supportive family and friends throughout the years, who have helped me get through and find my paths. I have also been privileged to access wonderful support in recent years, as well as a community. Not everyone is as lucky. 

The mental distress risks for any child, adolescent and adult living with physical disabilities, are often preventable. Our society needs to change – visibility, inclusion and access are essential. Just as important is the consideration of psychosocial factors in disabled children and adults’ treatments and supports. Every health professional caring for people with disabilities must be aware of these risks and enable appropriate supports and advocacy. Every mental health professional must become aware of disability issues. 

It is time to talk about how ableism in society, in the medical system, in workplaces and in the education system – all impact mental health of individuals with disabilities. We must acknowledge that ableism, discrimination, bullying and exclusion all have a huge part to play in disabled lives’ mental health. We must acknowledge that much anxiety, depression, frustration, trauma and suicidal ideation, can be prevented through social change. Prioritising each individual’s needs is key. Disability equity should look like every disabled person having a full say in what they need, children included. Social and psychological supports, including advocacy and decision-making supports, should be prioritised as essential services, not a side-note. 

This is a matter of life or death, as well as respect and quality of life. We all deserve to live our best life, and no one’s health should suffer because of their race, disability status, gender, or sexual orientation. 

Like many other disability advocates, I too want to dispel stereotypes about disability being a horrible thing. What we need to include in this conversation is the intersection between physical disabilities and mental health. I certainly don’t have all the answers. We all must ask the questions.

Let’s practice thinking of the complex – instead of oversimplifying this world. Having a disability is normal, it is cool, and it is sexy. Experiencing mental distress and social struggles because of it – is not. 

Liel K. Bridgford

[i] https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/j.1746-1561.2008.00297.x https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0002713809604155

[ii]https://csds.qld.edu.au/sdc/Provectus/GAPP/Impact%20of%20childhood%20illness/files/Cadman%20chronic%20illness%20&%20social%20well%20being%201987.pdf

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How To Avoid Ableist Slurs (And Why Should You Care?)

CW: ableist slurs, ableism, ignorance. Note: I will be censoring slurs throughout this post in respect to people who may be affected. 

As a kid I heard slurs a lot. One of my classmates’ favourites was crip*. When I’d tell adults about names I was called, the advice was to “Just ignore it”. The bullies who used the slurs, or others’ right to shame and dehumanise me in this way was never truly challenged. In combination with physical barriers, medical and historical ableism, internalising that I was less than an able-bodied person was to be expected. 

Despite working in mental health and being involved in the disability community, I still hear many ableist slurs around me. Sadly, sometimes this comes from disabled people themselves. It’s understandable considering we rarely talk about this in our disabled community or wider society. 

What is an ableist slur? It is a word or a phrase used degradingly to exclude, marginalise and discriminate against disabled people. 

Fine, I’ll admit – as a kid I was told that those things were not true and that I shouldn’t listen to it. But it is extremely difficult to ignore degrading comments when those are being repeatedly drilled into you. Especially as a child forming your sense of self. If you are privileged enough never to have experienced such repeated abuse or bullying, just close your eyes and imagine someone telling you over and over again degrading comments about something you cannot change about yourself (people from marginalised communities – don’t bother, you know what I’m talking about). It is inevitable that you’d end up believing this “truth” about yourself.

Why should you care?

Ableist slurs are one tool by which society deems different bodies and minds as subhuman, therefore leaving the power outside the hands of disabled people. Using ableist slurs reinforces the status quo of disabled people being marginalised, excluded, shamed and discriminated against in our society. Ableist slurs therefore, work to further disable people with bodily impairments, cognitive difference, or who are otherwise considered “nontypical”. Historically, people who have been labelled with words such as “crip*” “craz*” or “blind” have been physically ostracised, abused, neglected and killed. Unfortunately, that still happens under our watch to disabled children and adults in Australia. 

You know that time you had a busy day at work, and you said to a colleague it was “craz*”? Imagine that this colleague has a mental illness you didn’t know about. How do you think that would make them feel? Add to this how often this person would be hearing a word previously describing mental illness used to describe an unpredictable, difficult to manage or stressful times. Using slurs as negatively descriptive words yells out – that person is unworthy, the other – subhuman. They do not deserve to be respected, or equally participate in society, because they are different. 

Almost one in five Australians live with a disability, many of these are invisible or dynamic, so you wouldn’t be able to tell simply by looking at a person. If you believe everyone deserves to develop a healthy sense of self, to feel proud of who they are and to be included in our society, then avoiding ableist slurs is a simple way to start your contribution. If you’re still not convinced, remember any able-bodied person can unwillingly join the disabled community tomorrow by means of an accident or illness. 

How to avoid ableist slurs?

  • Ask yourself the following basic questions: Does this word relate to a bodily/cognitive/information processing or other impairment? Has this word been used as a negative description of something (an object, person, behaviour etc)? Has this word been historically used to shame or dehumanise people? What context am I using this word in? Would I use this word if a person with the associated impairment was in the room? 
  • If in doubt, be cautious and choose an alternative word. Learn from the disability community (and other marginalised communities) about what constitutes a slur. 
  • Check the following blog which provides a list of slurs and alternative phrases: https://www.autistichoya.com/p/ableist-words-and-terms-to-avoid.html?fbclid=IwAR3zdBfc4PceYWf78vpcI5P4-kRC9lK0KiReq8Rf0Ognq1sJy5W9NGuhBD8
  • Reclaiming disability language is something only the disability community can do. This happens when a marginalised group owns back a perviously degrading phrase and creates new meaning to it by purposefully using it. For instance, using the word “disabled” as a way to express one’s feeling of being disabled by society or affiliation with the disability community. If you aren’t a disabled person reclaiming a word – avoid using it if possible. 

Where to from here?

We all make mistakes and have the potential to evolve. If you’ve used a slur and then realised it – apologise. Learn, and let humility be the guide in improving your respectful communication. If you hear or see others using ableist slurs – call it out. Just like you would if people use racist or sexist slurs. Educate your network and share this information. Think of your words – they do count.

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford (yes I have a first name!) 

P.S. If you have comments or questions – feel free to leave those below. 

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An Illusion of an Evolution

CW: ableism, parental ableism, grief about disability, anger. 

A recent article published by The Age discussed an exciting and revolutionary podcast called “Too Peas in a Podcast”. Hosted by two mothers of disabled children, it is presented as a safe place to talk about their difficulties as they raise their children. This initiative may be perceived as contributing to the building of social support networks or as raising awareness – both of which are integral to the wellbeing of parents and children alike. What unfolds in the content of the podcast and the article though, is in fact detrimental to the wellbeing of disabled people. 

In the article, the hosts used the stage to describe their revolutionary idea of having a “living grief”. This refers to the supposedly inherit continuous process of grieving one’s disabled child’s life. This essential building block of the podcast is in fact an old idea, which shames disabled people. Parents used to sacrifice their disabled children to the Gods, as an offering for their sins. Disabled people used to be (and still are), thrown into institutions, ignored and silenced. Disable people have always been seen as a burden on their families and society. Being sad, even distraught by having a disabled child is based on the presumption that disability is a bad thing, a tragedy.

The “living grief” and other negative perceptions of disability continuously present themselves in the podcast. In the episode discussing stigma, one of the hosts shared she has kept her children’s ADHD diagnosis a secret in their school to avoid stigma. She referred to it as “not managed very well” and argued it should be considered a disability because it relates to brain dysfunction. She went on to suggest that if ADHD would be considered a disability, no stigma would be attached to it. Only a small amount of research or connection with the disability community would prove that this is highly unlikely. The other host, a mother of a child with cerebral palsy, said in regard to her child’s diagnosis “You can’t fix it.”. It is clear the hosts view disability as tragic, their children as faulty to be “managed” and “fixed”, who deserve to be grieved about.

These messages are based on the objectifying medical model, on which the discrimination against disabled people has been based on for generations. It perpetuates the idea that bodily impairments are bad and are the basis of disability – suggesting that people who are not “typical” are objects to be handled and fixed by medical professionals. This is disabling – it means society blames individuals for their disabilities and takes no responsibility for including everyone.

This podcast isn’t revolutionary, it conforms to old and shaming ideas about disability. Ableism is not a revolution- it is the oppression of disabled people. The impact of these ideas run deep in our veins. When a child learns that they need to hide who they are to be accepted, that they’ve caused grief to their parents by being born – they internalise this ableism, and in turn suffer from guilt, shame, depression, anxiety. They may even consider suicide. 

The social model of disability, developed by disabled people, asserts that disability is based on limitations in the society one lives in, rather than individual bodies. Limitations include both physical and attitudinal barriers. Too Peas in a Podcast puts significant attitudinal barriers within the lives of disabled people. 

What is new though, is that we will no longer be silenced. I feel proud to say my community of disabled folks is strong and comforting. We are not to be grieved for. We are not to be silenced. We are, just like any other human – to be celebrated. We deserve to be happy about being alive, without others grieving our births. And so today I celebrate – being a disabled woman. I celebrate all my disabled siblings across the globe, who stand or sit or lay by my side. It is time that our voices be heard.

The absentminded punchline of the episode was that people should be careful with content they share, to avoid hurting others, and that “If you’re not living it, why are you sharing it?” Good question indeed. If you’re not the person living with the impacts of discrimination, ableism, shaming, lack of access, people grieving for your life, objectification – why are you sharing it?

Step aside and give us the stage. Be an ally and call out ableism. 

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford 

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Writing a Positive Post

One of my readers recently commented they’d like to see a positive post next, so I’ve reflected on the meaning of the word “positive”. We humans love to categorize and label, it makes our world orderly and safe. Salad- good, hamburger- bad/ love – good, anger-bad/ compliance – good, defiance – bad. If only the world was so simple. Our society and this world is so much more grey than this positive/negative division.

We like to focus on the ‘good’ because it is comfortable and comforting to forget about challenges, inequities, violence, oppression – in our past and present. We watch mindless TV, read trash and listen to music about love stories, because who wants to listen to a song written about women’s oppression or Aboriginal genocide?

Another reader recently asked me why I keep focusing on the past- and my answer was simple: if we want to improve the present and create a better future, we must closely examine our past. As my late grandmother used to tell me about the Holocaust: we must never forget, to prevent it happening again.

I do however, respect your feedback, and understand that some of my recent posts may have been experienced as heavy for some. We all have moments of wanting something light to read, watch, or listen to.

So I’ve tried (really hard) to think of an only-positive topic to write about. I could think of a few things that are pure joy- like a baby’s laughter, but nothing exists in isolation, and I’m not good at pretending (that it wasn’t preceded by hours of screaming, for instance). I also find it quite boring to be honest! I’ll admit, I’ve got this tendency to look for improvements. So here are a few positives that came to mind, alongside their ‘for improvement’ aspects. 

Positive: I have a TV and I’m grateful for that- I love watching Insight and currently Sex Education.

Negative: There are a lot of people who don’t have the same (fair) access to television, and other forms of information and entertainment. Too many organizations and companies still don’t make access to disabled people a priority.

Positive: Watching TV can make me happy – especially when I find a thrilling or thought-provoking show.

Negative: I am not very good at watching without my critical mind ticking away (That’s the problem when most available TV comes from white-men, able-bodied creators).

Positive: TV can teach us about people, cultures, ourselves. From the comfort of our couch we can get transported to other dimensions of time and place.

Negative: TV has been teaching us the wrong thing for so long- perpetuating patriarchal structures of our society. We have learnt how to shame women for being humans (with any thoughts or personality) and how to admire men for being alive.

Positive: Good basketballer.

Negative: Rapist.

Positive: We can still change- as people, as a society.

There is no negative that comes with this one. 

What is the point of this post then, I wondered. Perhaps it is to remind us of life’s complexity- the greyness of people, society and life. Is to encourage us to look at ourselves with honesty. Being grateful doesn’t mean avoiding looking into what needs fixing. Calling out racism, ableism and other inequalities doesn’t mean hatred, it means love. Only love gives us hope for change: I love humans and what we’ve achieved- and it allows me to trust that we can overcome our struggles with violence, injustice and oppression. We’ve come so far. Looking back with only nostalgia means we don’t acknowledge the progress made or make room for change. Looking ahead with an open mind and heart means we’ll be ready to create the best path forward.

I hope this was enough positivity for you today. 

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford 

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Self-acceptance, shame and disability

It’s been a few months of contemplating how to write about this topic. I do not define myself by my body or my disability. I have however, been reading and coming to terms with parts about my disability and self-stigma, and I’ve decided to write publicly about it. It is not easy, but I believe it’s important. 

As a kid I was just a kid, defined by the friends I had, games I played, books I read. As I grew up, my disability became more and more disruptive, to what everyone did and expected me to do, to what I wanted my body to do. I’ve been excluded many times, from sports at school, youth movement activities, outdoor adventures like the beach. I’ve been bullied because of my disability many times growing up. It’s been many years of defining and redefining. I’m now again not defined by my disability. I don’t often talk about it, and as ashamed as I am to say it, I have been trying to hide it. The mere fact that today my disability is mostly invisible, makes it possible to pass as an able-bodied person. Reading about disability recently has got me thinking about my long-lasting self-stigma and shame, and I am working on correcting it. This post is the first step. 

So here it goes. I was born with a congenital condition called fibular hemimelia, in my right leg. This means I was born without one of the shin bones in the leg (fibula), and consequently with a small and deformed foot and knee. I have gone through 18 operations in my first 17 years of life to correct the angle and length of the affected leg. Operations are behind me, for now, and I am walking unaided with specially-made shoes or insoles. 

These days my disability impacts my life only minimally, with some pains and aches and the usual, long-term limitations I’m accustomed to (like no running, no rock-climbing or jumping off planes, to my great disappointment). I work, study, laugh and love like anyone does. I usually wear long pants or skirts to hide my very scarred and small leg. These days I’ve started wearing more shorts because of the weather. And also, because I am no longer ashamed. I am no less valued, beautiful, smart or hard-working than any able-bodied person. In fact, my disability made me who I am today, I have no doubt in mind.  

So, here are a few things I think you should know about disabilities, and ways in which you can help make our society a more inclusive place. 

  • People with disabilities are everywhere. They are your friend, colleague, neighbor. They are at the gym, pool, beach, movies, night clubs. They are that person who never wears a particular item of clothing to avoid exposing a part of their body. Of course, they are also using crutches, wheelchairs, vision aids, etc. 
  • People with disabilities are just like you– they want to be respected, given personal space, not to be asked or commented about their body or being touched without an explicit request. They strive for the same things that you do, like shelter, food, clothing, love, purpose in life. They want to have a conversation, make a connection, just like you. 
  • People’s aids are a part of themselves- often. I saw a kid the other day at the library who was playing on another child’s wheelchair. He was using it to race around, banging the chair on shelves and laughing. Meanwhile, the owner of the chair was struggling to get to it with his crutches. My heart ached for that child whose mobility was temporarily controlled by another child’s game. The adults around him didn’t say a thing. I have experienced similar things growing up.

It is not okay to use someone’s mobility aids as a game, it’s not actually funny. It is extremely disrespectful to use someone’s only means to be mobile or included in our society. “Asking” doesn’t make it right either, as an excluded person with disability, especially a child, often does not have the power to say no. 

  • Disabilities can be invisible. A few weeks ago, a father of two in Israel was murdered after trying to park in a disabled parking spot. Both his wife and child have a disability. 

Hold on and think before you judge, many people live with debilitating and painful invisible disabilities. The way people look can be deceiving.

  • People with disabilities want to feel included in our society. This can be hard when our language is often excluding, and we often assume people are able-bodied. For example, when health professionals jump to offer people “Go for a walk or a run” they are making an assumption the person is able-bodied. A person with a disability may often feel excluded by this and even hopeless, as they are unable to enact an apparently important suggestion. 

Use inclusive language instead– instead of a walk you can say “physical activity that suits your needs” or just be more curious around what is it that people want or can do. Instead of assuming all people are able-bodied and play able-bodied sports, be curious. Ask what people’s hobbies or favorite physical activities are. 

I hope this helps you think about people’s disability status differently, or even just think about it. My hope is that our future-society will be more inclusive to all, and in which this kind of blog post would be obvious and unnecessary. If we all made more of an effort, self-acceptance would soon replace shame for many people.

Every child with a disability and every parent to a child with a disability should be proud. Not ashamed. I am no longer ashamed. This post is proof.

What’s your proof?

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford 

No longer ashamed. This is my proof.
Self-acceptance. Blogging about disability and feeling grateful.