Crippled Words (or, Words with Disabilities)
Posted on Friday September 22, 2006 at 10:25am.
Frank Wilson's blog led me to Andrew Cassel's Philadelphia Inquirer piece, Growing Market for Euphemisms. I wrote an essay a few years back about euphemisms, in which I referred to "my friend" (as you can see below). That friend, Chuck Sheehan, passed away (euphemism) almost two years ago, at the age of 33, I think. My forthcoming novel is dedicated in part to his memory. Chuck, who had osteogenesis imperfecta, had read the below and was not offended (in fact, he was the one who pointed me to the misconception about "handicapped"--a misconception he held at the time--when we discussed an early draft). So I'm posting it here:
Crippled Words (or, Words with Disabilities)
Our society is waging a war with the English language on many fronts, and, though some of the attacks might have noble origins, I am not sure all of the battles are winnable. In an effort to help people live to the fullest and feel good about themselves, an assault was launched on the words used to describe people who have permanent physical ailments. But the foe in this case is not just the English language, a formidable enough opponent; reality itself is under attack. And reality is capable of fighting back--the power of words includes their way of meaning what they really mean, regardless of our intentions.
I have a good friend who is--how does one say this these days? It isn’t appropriate to use the cliché, “confined to a wheelchair.” My friend does not live a confined life--he has an important job (I think he gets to fire people), drives a car, is bright and talented, has a wicked sense of humor, and, back in college, could drink most people under the table (sometimes literally). He isn’t “confined” to a wheelchair. But he certainly needs one to get around. He also has to be careful because he has fragile bones and has had frequent operations as a result of the condition with which he was born.
The preceding paragraph was too difficult to write. Not because of the emotional topic (I don’t feel pity when I think of my friend, and I don’t think he wants any, from me or anyone else)--it was difficult to write because society has developed a very sensitive set of rules about what we can call people who are...
What I wanted to say in the difficult second paragraph was this: my friend had a birth defect that left him crippled. But we don’t call people “crippled” anymore. And “birth defect” doesn’t seem particularly sensitive either, though it is accurate enough. Something in his development before birth was defective. Perhaps I shouldn’t be using this kind of language.
At some point, we stopped referring to people as having “birth defects” and as being “cripples.” It was demeaning. It defined them according to a physical condition. My friend isn’t a cripple; he is a person who happens to have a serious physical condition. “Cripple” is not the sum of his existence. I know that. So I understand why some people don’t like the word. Unfortunately for them, reality hasn’t allowed for very effective or acceptable alternatives.
What came after we discarded “crippled”? “Handicapped” was popular for a long time. Webster’s defines a “handicap” as “a race or other competition in which difficulties are imposed on the superior contestants ... to make their chances of winning equal.” A handicapped horse, for example, must wear weights to compensate for its greater speed. This ironic word-choice is evidence of the guilty motives that fuel political correctness. Healthy people felt bad, because they could walk and crippled people could not; they also felt bad because we have an awful word like “crippled.” Their solution was to choose a word, “handicapped,” that implies that there is something innately superior about these people. What’s the big deal? If it makes the healthy and the crippled both feel better, why not use “handicapped,” you might ask.
I don’t object. Let people be called whatever they wish. But reality objects, and soon after, so did the very people who had ordained “handicapped.” Eventually, “handicapped” was no longer an appropriate term to describe people with these physical conditions. How could that be? How could a word that more than implied the innate superiority of the people it was describing be insensitive or have negative connotations? Yet, it did have negative connotations, and had to be discarded.
A popular misconception is that “handicapped” was originally a reference to veterans crippled in World War I who had to hold their caps in their hands as they begged for money. Those who believe this think that “handicapped” was justifiably discarded because it implied that these people could not provide for themselves. However, the euphemism was applied to people well before the war and definitely originated in betting and horse racing. Though some people believe the myth, it is false; perhaps their belief is the result of a rationalization to avoid facing why “handicapped” couldn’t have lasted.
Its replacement, “physically disabled,” was doomed from the beginning. “Disabled” is not very friendly. How could we have chosen a word that sends the message that people are not able to do certain things? We tried “persons with disabilities”--physical condition wasn’t the fundamental fact of a person, just an accessory. This one is still favored by many, and seems a reasonable, inoffensive, and accurate choice.
But some couldn’t get past the stigma of “disability,” so they replaced it with “physically challenged.” This one is ridiculous on its face. Mountain climbers are physically challenged, too. “Physically challenged” might have some lasting power because it tells us precisely nothing about the people it purports to describe. Still, some have recognized that “physically challenged” is not informative enough or is too silly, and have discarded it in favor of “differently-abled.” I don’t know what to say about that one.
There is a simple reason none of these terms have sufficed. The clues were there way back with “handicapped.” If a word with only positive connotations was eventually thought to be insensitive, what word or term had a chance? None of them did, not because the English language doesn’t have enough words, but because reality is not always as easily manipulated by words as some would like.
The reality is that being crippled, or disabled, is negative. It isn’t negative because we use the word “crippled.” It does not become less negative when we use “physically challenged” or “differently-abled.” Every one of us with all of our parts in more or less full working order are happy to be in this condition, and none of us would gladly switch positions with a crippled person, even if we call that person a “person with disability.” Reality is more powerful than word-choice. Being disabled is not a desirable state, and any word or term used to describe that state will take on that undesirability. If tomorrow we begin referring to people in wheelchairs as “sexy” or “rich” or “wonderful,” it will not be long before these words take on negative connotations and are subsequently rejected as being insensitive.
Likewise, we have been unable to sufficiently name those with mental deficiencies. (I am reluctant to include them in the same essay as those with physical disabilities--I can recall my friend describing his frustration when strangers would talk to him as if he were not in full possession of his mental faculties, assuming that because he looked different he could not think well. But the language issues are too similar to be ignored.)
“Retarded” and “slow” have been rejected. “Slow” is an accurate, euphemistic description of somebody whose brain does not work as efficiently as it should, but the reality that it describes is unpleasant, so “slow” was eventually deemed inappropriate. (Saying that a brain “should” work at a certain efficiency is risky, just as we must now put “normal” in quotes to avoid being seen as insensitive.)
Even benign terms like “special education” are losing favor, though there is nothing negative about the word “special.” Parents do not want their children to be in special education classes, so we now have “learning support” teachers and classrooms. Of course, changing what we call things doesn’t make the children better able to learn, but the focus here is on abating our own unearned pangs of guilt and making people feel good, not on learning. How long until “learning support” is looked down upon with disdain? It is undesirable to be mentally retarded or even a little slow, just as it is undesirable to be physically disabled, and whatever words we use to describe these realities will come to embody that same negative undesirability.
This is not to say that people with disabilities or the mentally retarded are themselves negative or undesirable, or that we should ostracize them, or any such thing. There is nothing negative about my friend. All people should be encouraged to live to their potentials, whatever that might be. Perhaps that is why silly and inaccurate euphemisms were sought in the first place, but hiding reality with words is wrong, in the long run helps no one, and does not work.
It is time to start treating people with disabling conditions like people, time to throw away our hypersensitivity and wordplay that imply that they are incapable of facing reality and the challenges it brings. We often refer to people with these conditions as “brave” for just living their lives the best they can; I understand that--we admire those who fight against odds and overcome difficulties. Sometimes I do think that how my friend lives his life is brave, but I know that’s as patronizing as devising silly euphemisms--it is his only life. What choice does he have?
Our society is waging a war with the English language on many fronts, and, though some of the attacks might have noble origins, I am not sure all of the battles are winnable. In an effort to help people live to the fullest and feel good about themselves, an assault was launched on the words used to describe people who have permanent physical ailments. But the foe in this case is not just the English language, a formidable enough opponent; reality itself is under attack. And reality is capable of fighting back--the power of words includes their way of meaning what they really mean, regardless of our intentions.
I have a good friend who is--how does one say this these days? It isn’t appropriate to use the cliché, “confined to a wheelchair.” My friend does not live a confined life--he has an important job (I think he gets to fire people), drives a car, is bright and talented, has a wicked sense of humor, and, back in college, could drink most people under the table (sometimes literally). He isn’t “confined” to a wheelchair. But he certainly needs one to get around. He also has to be careful because he has fragile bones and has had frequent operations as a result of the condition with which he was born.
The preceding paragraph was too difficult to write. Not because of the emotional topic (I don’t feel pity when I think of my friend, and I don’t think he wants any, from me or anyone else)--it was difficult to write because society has developed a very sensitive set of rules about what we can call people who are...
What I wanted to say in the difficult second paragraph was this: my friend had a birth defect that left him crippled. But we don’t call people “crippled” anymore. And “birth defect” doesn’t seem particularly sensitive either, though it is accurate enough. Something in his development before birth was defective. Perhaps I shouldn’t be using this kind of language.
At some point, we stopped referring to people as having “birth defects” and as being “cripples.” It was demeaning. It defined them according to a physical condition. My friend isn’t a cripple; he is a person who happens to have a serious physical condition. “Cripple” is not the sum of his existence. I know that. So I understand why some people don’t like the word. Unfortunately for them, reality hasn’t allowed for very effective or acceptable alternatives.
What came after we discarded “crippled”? “Handicapped” was popular for a long time. Webster’s defines a “handicap” as “a race or other competition in which difficulties are imposed on the superior contestants ... to make their chances of winning equal.” A handicapped horse, for example, must wear weights to compensate for its greater speed. This ironic word-choice is evidence of the guilty motives that fuel political correctness. Healthy people felt bad, because they could walk and crippled people could not; they also felt bad because we have an awful word like “crippled.” Their solution was to choose a word, “handicapped,” that implies that there is something innately superior about these people. What’s the big deal? If it makes the healthy and the crippled both feel better, why not use “handicapped,” you might ask.
I don’t object. Let people be called whatever they wish. But reality objects, and soon after, so did the very people who had ordained “handicapped.” Eventually, “handicapped” was no longer an appropriate term to describe people with these physical conditions. How could that be? How could a word that more than implied the innate superiority of the people it was describing be insensitive or have negative connotations? Yet, it did have negative connotations, and had to be discarded.
A popular misconception is that “handicapped” was originally a reference to veterans crippled in World War I who had to hold their caps in their hands as they begged for money. Those who believe this think that “handicapped” was justifiably discarded because it implied that these people could not provide for themselves. However, the euphemism was applied to people well before the war and definitely originated in betting and horse racing. Though some people believe the myth, it is false; perhaps their belief is the result of a rationalization to avoid facing why “handicapped” couldn’t have lasted.
Its replacement, “physically disabled,” was doomed from the beginning. “Disabled” is not very friendly. How could we have chosen a word that sends the message that people are not able to do certain things? We tried “persons with disabilities”--physical condition wasn’t the fundamental fact of a person, just an accessory. This one is still favored by many, and seems a reasonable, inoffensive, and accurate choice.
But some couldn’t get past the stigma of “disability,” so they replaced it with “physically challenged.” This one is ridiculous on its face. Mountain climbers are physically challenged, too. “Physically challenged” might have some lasting power because it tells us precisely nothing about the people it purports to describe. Still, some have recognized that “physically challenged” is not informative enough or is too silly, and have discarded it in favor of “differently-abled.” I don’t know what to say about that one.
There is a simple reason none of these terms have sufficed. The clues were there way back with “handicapped.” If a word with only positive connotations was eventually thought to be insensitive, what word or term had a chance? None of them did, not because the English language doesn’t have enough words, but because reality is not always as easily manipulated by words as some would like.
The reality is that being crippled, or disabled, is negative. It isn’t negative because we use the word “crippled.” It does not become less negative when we use “physically challenged” or “differently-abled.” Every one of us with all of our parts in more or less full working order are happy to be in this condition, and none of us would gladly switch positions with a crippled person, even if we call that person a “person with disability.” Reality is more powerful than word-choice. Being disabled is not a desirable state, and any word or term used to describe that state will take on that undesirability. If tomorrow we begin referring to people in wheelchairs as “sexy” or “rich” or “wonderful,” it will not be long before these words take on negative connotations and are subsequently rejected as being insensitive.
Likewise, we have been unable to sufficiently name those with mental deficiencies. (I am reluctant to include them in the same essay as those with physical disabilities--I can recall my friend describing his frustration when strangers would talk to him as if he were not in full possession of his mental faculties, assuming that because he looked different he could not think well. But the language issues are too similar to be ignored.)
“Retarded” and “slow” have been rejected. “Slow” is an accurate, euphemistic description of somebody whose brain does not work as efficiently as it should, but the reality that it describes is unpleasant, so “slow” was eventually deemed inappropriate. (Saying that a brain “should” work at a certain efficiency is risky, just as we must now put “normal” in quotes to avoid being seen as insensitive.)
Even benign terms like “special education” are losing favor, though there is nothing negative about the word “special.” Parents do not want their children to be in special education classes, so we now have “learning support” teachers and classrooms. Of course, changing what we call things doesn’t make the children better able to learn, but the focus here is on abating our own unearned pangs of guilt and making people feel good, not on learning. How long until “learning support” is looked down upon with disdain? It is undesirable to be mentally retarded or even a little slow, just as it is undesirable to be physically disabled, and whatever words we use to describe these realities will come to embody that same negative undesirability.
This is not to say that people with disabilities or the mentally retarded are themselves negative or undesirable, or that we should ostracize them, or any such thing. There is nothing negative about my friend. All people should be encouraged to live to their potentials, whatever that might be. Perhaps that is why silly and inaccurate euphemisms were sought in the first place, but hiding reality with words is wrong, in the long run helps no one, and does not work.
It is time to start treating people with disabling conditions like people, time to throw away our hypersensitivity and wordplay that imply that they are incapable of facing reality and the challenges it brings. We often refer to people with these conditions as “brave” for just living their lives the best they can; I understand that--we admire those who fight against odds and overcome difficulties. Sometimes I do think that how my friend lives his life is brave, but I know that’s as patronizing as devising silly euphemisms--it is his only life. What choice does he have?