Wednesday, August 7, 2019

Why You Shouldn't Place One Disability Over Another: On Disability Hierarchy

Recently, I told someone that I have never been able to tell time, despite trying hard for many years. Despite the fact that this person knew about my severe dyscalculia (math-based learning disability), she seemed shocked. I told her it was like getting myself dressed: occupational therapists tried to get me to the point where I could dress myself at least semi-independently, but it was too hard. Math teachers did the same thing with being able to tell time.

"Yes, but telling time is easy!" she said, wondering why I could never seem to be able to tell the time. This person who told me that telling time is easy has known how math has been immensely difficult for me ever since kindergarten. They had known how hard it used to be when I was in first and second grade to remember facts like 2 + 2 = 4 and 3 + 3 = 6. THey know how hard it was for me to pass my standardized state math testing for Massachusetts and even after a year of studying for this testing, I only passed it by one point. This person knew how much individualized attention I needed in regards to the portion of my education that had to do with math and they still didn't acknowledge that a simple task having to do with math was hard for me, even when they knew I had a disability that impaired these skills, even when people tried to teach me several times. Yet, this person knew that something so simple would be so difficult for me in regards to one of my other disabilities and didn't even question it.

(From andrewcampbell.com. This picture explains how I felt in math class growing up)


To me, having a disability means that a person has difficulty with one or more simple, everyday tasks that other people their own age can do perfectly fine due to any sort of chronic condition.

Can most young adults dress themselves? Yes.
Can most young adults make themselves food? Yes.
Can most young adults complete basic hygiene tasks? Yes.

I could go on...

Can I do those things?
No.
Why not?
Because I have cerebral palsy.

People acknowledge that.

Can most young adults read an analog clock if they were taught how to in school? Yes.
Do most young adults know what certain coins look like? Yes.
Can most young adults remember basic times tables? Yes.
Do most young adults pass state-required standardized testing without having to study? Yes.

Can I do those things?
No, not easily, or only with a great amount of effort?
Why?
Because I have dyscalculia.

For the most part, I feel like people don't acknowledge this. They also don't seem to acknowledge this within the concept of treatment for mental illnesses either. I share with some people in my life that I have mental health conditions. I have been on medication for this and have been seeing psychotherapists once a week for the past several years to manage and cope with these issues. But are they gone? No. Have I relapsed? Yes. Is relapsing to be expected? Yes. Is it still hard? Yes. But people still assume I'm "cured." However, I also take medication and go to physical therapy to manage my CP symptoms, as well as getting Botox injections. But people don't assume that CP is omitted from my life when treated. This is contrasted with my learning disabilities and mental illnesses.

 People assume that disabilities that affect the way a person thinks and processes certain types of information are more likely to be resolved, cured, and managed than that of physical disabilities. As someone with disabilities that affect my mobility, learning, and mental health, I can easily say that this is the case. Do not put one disability over another. Do not forget about any of them. Disability is a greatly intersectional experience and just because some are visible and some are not does not mean that the invisible ones take less of an influence necessarily