Disability is not a comedic punchline, a tragic end, or a plot twist that gets thrown away in the first act. If you’ve got one, that’s part of your life, but clearly no one in Never Have I Ever’s editing room is underlining the “part” here.
Despite years of work by human rights activists, despite all the legal gains achieved by countless grassroots organizations working over the last seven decades, an alarming number of people are returning to a dark, uncivilized way of thinking: viewing folks who are disabled as somehow less valuable human beings.
Once you step out of the nice box, you’re not alone. Suddenly, you realize there are all these other people out there who are also tired of being told who they should be, tired of being told how they are wrong, tired of inequality, privilege and power.
As a medical anthropologist with expertise in how people interpret health policies, I am worried about the broader social implications of normalizing the expressions “stay home” and “stay healthy.” They reinforce misconceptions about how many people live, with the risk of doing more harm than good.
I’ve been on eight planes, 10 rideshare cars and two rental cars in the last three weeks—and in 50 percent of them, my head began to thump, the glad in the left side of my throat began to swell, my sinuses filled with mucus and I became hazy within minutes because someone was wearing perfume or cologne.
Liz Plank’s “For the Love of Men” advocates for exchanging toxic masculinity for positive masculinity—which expands the definition of manhood to include male courage, strength, leadership and compassion.
I’m a journalist with 30 years of coverage of disability issues—and almost any person with an intellectual disability I got to know would tell me a story of an assault. They talked about how they weren’t believed or taken seriously. They talked about how this was a problem that others didn’t talk about, but should.
According to the newly published 2018 Annual Disability Statistics Compendium, 111,804 people with disabilities entered the workforce in 2017, but 3,736 women with disabilities left it. These losses occurred even as other segments of the disability community continued to see job gains.
Yes, I came out stronger after my stroke. Yes, I learned who my true friends are. I also learned about the inherent sexism of wheelchair design.
“I was strong. I was a strong and independent woman. Then I got married, and I thought: I’ll just be married and be a strong and independent woman. Then I got pregnant, and Henry came, and I was nothing but a strong and independent woman.”