![]() It’s a thing society teaches women, and disabled women in particular. I’ve been socialized to defuse situations, to make everyone comfortable with my pain. ![]() To laugh off the ways in which I am vulnerable. I’ve been trained to laugh off threats to my life and my body. “You could really give someone a good thwack with this thing.” “This is great for walking around the city,” she told me, with the sagacity of a seasoned New Yorker. When I brought my everyday pick-a metallic blue collapsible model-to an orthopedist’s appointment shortly before my surgery, my doctor lifted it in her hands, admiring the heft. I’ve used one since I was at least twelve, on and off, and every day for three years before I got both of my hips replaced at age 30. “Walk straight, bitch! Are you limping, bitch? I will make you walk straight. We’re not thinking about where and how to run until he passes us, turns around, and starts to scream. We’re not thinking about it until a man starts walking toward us down the sidewalk, and we realize there’s no one else in sight. ![]() ![]() We walk all over the city, both as a pair and as individuals, at a variety of hours. We’re not thinking much of it-not thinking about the fact that one of the people we left behind is a tall, non-disabled man, and that we’re now two women on our own. My wife and I are walking to the subway station after a concert, having bid the friends who came with us goodbye at the corner. It’s late at night on a deserted residential street in Brooklyn. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |