Star Trek: The Next Generation

Season 2, Episode 6
Although representation of disability is not typically the first thing that comes to mind when thinking of Star Trek, one should consider that one of the show's main characters has a disability. Geordi LaForge (LaVar Burton) is blind, and sees the world through his high-tech visor. La Forge explains several times throughout the series that while his visor does allow him to visually interpret the world, it does not give him real human vision. He cannot see as other humans do.

The main plot in this episode revolves around the ship encountering a famous deaf peacemaker who uses three different translators to negotiate peace all over the galaxy. This method works so well for the peacemaker that when his translators are killed, he becomes enraged and has lost all ability to communicate. This puts everything in danger, as he can longer negotiate peace or instruct the crew. He is unable to communicate with anyone until another crew member learns his sign language, and eventually, he does begin peace negotiations. One character actually tells the peacemaker to “make an advantage out of a disadvantage.” He ends up making peace on a planet by teaching them all sign language, so that they will have a common ground. This plot seems to show that disability can be turned into ability; in this case it inspires a language bridge between two cultures.

Meanwhile, in this same episode, the ship’s physician tells La Forge that she can “fix” his eyes and give him normal human vision. At first he sounds excited, having always been told that it was impossible. But suddenly La Forge’s mood changes. “I don’t know,” he says, “I’d be giving up a lot.” In this sub plot, it is shown that disability is another way for people to be unique, and perhaps the potential for difference between people is a thing to be celebrated.

Attitude TV

Attitude TV is a New Zealand-based television series that can also be watched on the internet. Attitude TV is very much in line with the “nothing about us without us” movement, with outspoken “presenters” or reporters who have disabilities. All three reporters use wheelchairs, but pointedly do not let it stop them from using traditional journalistic shots, for example, establishing scenes that show the reporter entering a building. These kinds of scenes necessarily make the wheelchairs obvious, yet this TV series is all about attitude – and the attitude is just not centered on the wheelchairs themselves, but the fact that these reporters can do the same things as other reporters.

Attitude TV is made up of short episodes featuring individuals in New Zealand with disabilities. Individuals and their families typically discuss their lives in New Zealand – whether their ordinary daily activities or their individual and unique feats. Sometimes the episodes are themed, like several on athletics or the transition from high school to university for adults with disabilities. These episodes are very news-oriented in style, which streamlines the series and denotes it a sense of credibility.

Much of Attitude TV speaks for itself, with the clear intention of giving the representations of disability a make-over. In their own words:

“We want to show all our viewers that people with disabilities:

• Are movers and shakers.
• Are elite athletes.
• Are entrepreneurs.
• Have a social conscience.
• Have a political voice.
• Make a vital contribution to society.
• Love, laugh and lead amazing lives. "

Link - http://www.disabilitytv.com/

"Life With Anthony"

What would you do if you could know ahead of time that your child would have a life-long disability? Because Trisomy 21 can be detected during pregnancy, Lisa Spellman asks herself this very question in Margaret Renkyl’s article, “Life With Anthony.” According to this article, about 90% of pregnancies that test positive for Down Syndrome are aborted, but Lisa claims that if she had had the test and knew Anthony would have the disability, she would have carried the pregnancy to term anyway. What is most interesting about this article, however, is the words used to describe Anthony and his disability. The title, for example, gives a hint to the strange word-play to come, because the first thing that comes to mind after reading “Life With Anthony” is “Life Without Anthony.” In this way, I feel the young boy is equated with and identified by his disability. This kind of labeling can create stigma. The word choice of the section headers in the article will be discussed to show the pessimistic representation of disability.

The first section header is “Devastating news,” implying that Anthony’s initial diagnosis of Down Syndrome was a terrible tragedy; devastation is a term used to describe natural disasters, ruin, and death. It should not be used to describe the diagnosis of a little boy. The next section title is “Coming to terms,” which echoes the tragic quality assigned to Anthony’s diagnosis. When I think of the phrase “coming to terms,” I think of dealing with unavoidable crises. While Anthony’s disability came as a surprise, his family’s reaction is darkened by being described by this phrase. The final header in the article is “Fears and hopes.” By placing the word fear in front of hope, Down Syndrome is once again described in terms of devastation. One wonders what there is to be afraid of; Trisomy 21 is a disability, not a convicted kidnapper or murderer. The fear and stigma of Anthony’s disability seem to overshadow the fact that he can still have a good and productive life. This article is very telling of the stigma attached to disability, and it seems possible that these word choices were even accidental, or without such intention. Most of the headers in “Life With Anthony” clearly imply trepidation and doom for a little boy, and these headers are all assigning meaning to the label of disability that has been bestowed upon him.

article - http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/family/02/13/par.life.with.anthony/index.html?iref=newssearch

"Talk"

“Talk” is a short film that shows two days in the life of a young executive businessman, and the events that cause him to change his views on people with disabilities. At the opening of the film, he dismissed individuals with disabilities as a social and financial drain, but when he wakes up the next day, he quickly learns what it is like to be stigmatized. The young man has entered a world in which disability is the norm, and because of his able-bodiedness, he is treated callously and not taken seriously. Later, he feels romantic rejection as a beautiful young woman in a wheel chair explains, “It’s not that I don’t like you…”

Only when the young man wins his date over does this episode end, and he ‘wakes up’ in the business meeting from the beginning of the film. When the new disability bill comes up again, the young executive pauses before saying he doesn’t want to discuss it.

For a ten-minute film, “Talk” says a lot! It illustrates the difficulty of living in an often hostile world that is not always tailored to one’s needs. The film is unique in its method of showing the viewer these things; the viewer is not told these things through dialogue or narrative. Witty and succinct, “Talk” doesn’t try to show an audience how it feels to have a disability, but rather changes what it means to have the stigma of a label.

The title “Talk” has quite a bit of weight. The film opens with a lot of jabbering in a business meeting. Everyone is talking at once about a new disability bill that has been passed, and they are not pleased about it. It is interesting how this is portrayed in an instant as babble. Furthermore, throughout the film, the young man is spoken to frequently, and always like an unfortunate thing. Even phrases like, “How brave of you,” are really just babble, impeding true communication; no one listens to what the young man says in the second reality.

At the end of the film, back in this reality, the young executive has changed his mind. When asked his opinion on the bill, he says he doesn’t want to talk about it. This is an odd move by the film makers. It almost seems like a warning against babbling about or to individuals with disabilities. Or perhaps the scene, along with the title, is supposed to encourage the counterpart of ‘talk,’ which is to ‘listen.’

Abnormal Psychology: The Problem of Maladaptive Behavior

Abnormal Psychology: The Problem of Maladaptive Behavior, by Irwin and Barbara Sarason, is an old textbook I found in a junk shop some years ago that was published in 1987. When I noticed it on my bookshelf the other day, I was curious about what it said, and how it discussed abnormal behaviors (whatever those are!), caused by various disabilities or illnesses.

First of all, the title is a clue to the insensitive terminology in this book: Abnormal Psychology. ‘Abnormal’ is a questionable term these days when discussing disabilities and the behaviors or physiologies associated with them. The two sections of the text I felt may be most applicable to course discussion were one defining abnormal behavior and one discussing how mental disabilities were viewed historically.

This textbook defines abnormal behavior in surprisingly ambiguous terms. “Abnormal psychology deals with how it feels to be different, and the meanings that get attached to being different, and how society deals with people whom it considers to be different. The spectrum of differentness is wide, ranging from reality-defying delusions and severe debilitation… to behavioral quirks that we would be better off not having” (2). So abnormal behavior is “different” behavior, and abnormal psychology tries to see the relationships of a “different” person with himself and with society. I find it interesting that these behaviors are clearly described as undesirable; this is obviously not sympathetic to the Disability Rights movement.

The second section I found noteworthy was the section on historical views of maladaptive behavior, beginning with ancient peoples and the Greeks. The text describes that ancient belief – or fear, rather – that abnormal or “different” behavior is rooted in evil or mysticism. The book lists exorcisms and the aid of shaman as old remedies for the behaviors of the mentally disabled. I noted that this book, published in 1987, discusses these fears and especially exorcisms, with a warning not to dismiss these “primitive views,” (29) wisely reminding readers that these ancient fears are still alive. This reminds me of the fatal exorcism of an autistic boy in Milwaukee, as recently as 2003.

Some ancient peoples blamed organic causes for “different” behavior, believing that a defective organ caused mental illness or madness. Other societies strongly blamed a clash in the way a person “thinks, feels, or perceives the world” (29). In other words, they put the fault of disability onto the individual who had it.

As for the Greeks, during Homer’s time, “disturbed or psychotic behavior was interpreted as a form of punishment for offenses against the gods” (30). Indeed, now that I think of it, wasn’t that one of the main issues in the Iliad? And isn’t this a view that people still hang on to? Sometimes, especially in rural areas, a disabled child is seen as punishment to a sinful mother or father.

The most interesting aspect of this section was that a lot of the fear and strange beliefs about disability have been around for a long, long time. It really sheds light on how archaic some of these persistent beliefs (like disability as a punishment from God) are! People with disabilities have had many representations over thousands and thousands of years – and most of them have not been optimistic. The text itself, however, does not entirely discount these views, which it seems to present without much comment. While focusing on the need to help, the need for therapy for individuals with maladaptive behavior, the book is somewhat in line with old belief systems, simply because it continually reinforces abnormality to be undesirable.

"Blue-Eyed Cat"

“Blue-Eyed Cat” is an oil painting by a local Upper Cumberland artist, Mike Rewis. This man has a lot of talent, but he also has a disability. His work is supported through an art program he is involved in, and “Blue-Eyed Cat” is one piece of many in the theme of cats. The artist has had his art featured on postcards, pamphlets, t-shirts, and in the newspaper and galleries, and not just local galleries. His work was also chosen to appear in a gallery in the Vanderbilt Kennedy Center. He makes an income by selling some of his art, and seems successful in this endeavor; I finally purchased this piece last fall. The artist is vocal about and very proud of his creations and seems to find a good deal of fulfillment in making them. He has told me that he enjoys making art – and especially selling them!

I chose this aesthetically appealing and whimsical interpretation of a cat as an artifact because it makes a statement about how artistry and disability are represented. The program this artist is involved in promotes an exciting reinvention of individuals into artists. Wherever the work of this program is shown or sold, there is typically information nearby describing that the art is created by adults with disabilities. This creates a sort of wow factor, and I hope it causes passersby to rethink what it means to have a disability… and a dream.

I think it is amazing when anyone is empowered by finding a passion and pursuing it. This artist and many others have received support to gain recognition as an artist, not just somebody with a disability. Art is also a great equalizer in that it often illustrates universals of the human condition. This art isn’t about “overcoming,” it is about reinvention, something I think every human being does and even strives to do, and it is about being creative and sharing that creative vision with others.

“A Wrongful Birth”

“A Wrongful Birth” by Elizabeth Weil first appeared in the NY Times Magazine in March 2006. In the article, she explores the reasons how wrongful birth suits gained the place they have today, what this means for the future of medicine and what exactly constitutes the means to try a wrongful birth case. She draws mainly from the story of the Brancas, a New York couple who sued their doctors after their son A.J. was born with Wolf-Hirschhorn syndrome. The parents love him, they say, but would have made the choice to abort him if they had been informed of his condition. Their lawsuit contended that the doctors in their case should have seen warning signs—bleeding during the first trimester, unusually small fetal growth—and advised Donna Branca, the mother, to undergo further tests. The winnings from the multi-million dollar case are now used to pay for A.J.’s care. Weil even speaks of her own pregnancy and the decision she made to abort after being informed that her fetus had contracted a virus that would have caused severe issues.

After searching through several stories, I found this one to be the clearest look at the draw of such a case. It was certainly the most sympathetic, which probably stems from the acknowledged bias of the author. After all, how could one woman who chose to abort her child based on genetic testing harshly criticize another for wanting to have that same choice? In fact, as soon as Weil makes her disclosure, the article seems to have a new twist. Most of the articles I read featuring wrongful birth suits were clinical reports of facts; Weil’s article is clearly not.

I thought some of the statements made in the article were based on incorrect assumptions. While Weil claims to be working outside of the sphere of influence for the negative assumptions made about raising a child with a disability. She even goes as far to make the statement that “no reasonable person would choose sickness over health” implying that given the choice no parent would choose to have a disabled child. It may be true that no parent would choose to have a child that would go through life suffering with a debilitating illness, but there are some parents from disabled communities, like the deaf community, that would choose to have a disabled child. Weil may not have meant this kind of disability, but I think she risks being too flippant with such a general statement.

Also, the Brancas claim that they would not have been so upset with their doctors if the doctors would have apologized. Such a statement is ridiculous. Doctors are not in any position to apologize to their patients no matter what the outcome of their care especially with so many lawsuits waiting to happen. An apology would mean an admission of culpability and they could not provide that.

Another detail that raised my interest was the use of a “Do Not Resuscitate” form to prove that the Brancas would have terminated the pregnancy had they been given the option. It is an interesting idea to assume that a couple who would choose not to resuscitate their child would choose to abort. After all, there is a distinct difference between choosing not to continue suffering after a cardiac arrest and to choose not to see if the child had complications to begin with. Another tactic used by the Branca’s legal team was to show videos of A.J. as a toddler and an infant to show the difficulties faced by him each day. If anything was guaranteed to tug on the heartstrings of a jury, that was. The money is going to pay for A.J.’s daily care, so it makes sense that they should see what that care entails.

In the end, I am left with several questions about this type of trial, and none of them are easy to answer. Is this really a viable way to force doctors to keep their patients informed? Or, is it just another way for people to blame doctors for things beyond anyone's control? Should someone sue for the right to have the option to abort a pregnancy and, if so, where do we draw the line?

A Conference Encounter

I once attended an interesting presentation at the National Collegiate Honors Conference. At the session, I sat with my friends and watched as people from other schools filed in to the not-so-large room. One of them was a young man followed by two women who sat in the front row. After a moment, the session proctor stood to introduce the presenters. At that moment, I realized that something different was happening in the room; one of the women I had noticed with the young man began to sign what the proctor said. It was obvious whom her audience was—she did not stand for the entire room to see, no introduction was made nor explanation given—she was there solely for the young man she was accompanying. I sat there watching with unabashed interest as the woman spelled out each presenters name and mouthed the words of the proctor silently to the young man whose face I could barely see from behind and to the side. Then, it was the first girl’s turn to speak and the whole thing continued.

For each word, a sign was given or spelled out and I actually caught a few with the woman’s sometimes exaggerated facial expressions or mouthing. It was like watching some sort of interpretive dance being given about the presentation. Watching her gave me something else to focus on than the speaker sitting placidly behind the desk. Her gestures were tight, controlled and did not attract much attention, but they easily conveyed the points she wanted. Sometimes, when an idea was too abstract to be easily conveyed by one sign, I would see her tilt her head and sign to the young man that she wanted to say something like what she was literally signing. The young man would nod in understanding and then the woman would move on to catch up with the speaker. On some rare occasions the signer even asked the speaker to repeat a phrase or two so that she could understand what had been said. Meanwhile, I watched as the name “Othello”—the topic of the first presentation—was shortened down to the simple sign for “O” to save time and other names were cut as well. I caught subtle changes between what the speaker would say and what the interpreter would sign because of what the woman mouthed to go with it. When the first presenter was done, the woman stepped down, and the other woman took her place.

The second interpreter was much less animated than the first and, to me, seemed to be the less experienced of the two. She was slower and at the same time required even less space than the first woman. Luckily for her, the second presenter’s character names were short and so they did not need to be abbreviated. Also, the topic was more concrete without as many abstracts to cause confusion. After a moment, I found my eyes wandering around the room and watching the speaker this time out of boredom. I wondered for one fleeting moment if the young man felt the same way, but realized that unlike me, he did not have the option of casually glancing about the room without drawing the woman’s attention to it. Soon though, it was time for the third speaker and the women traded places again.

During this entire process, I found myself wondering if anyone else in the room was as drawn to watching the women sign during the presentation as I was. Did it strike them as odd that this group walked around and translated wherever they went? What the presenters think of the women signing near the front of the room? Did they resent having the groups attention possibly diverted elsewhere? Then, the less complicated questions: What school are they from? Is he giving a presentation? Are they always together? Do they try to pick sessions that would translate well? Who gets to pick which sessions? I wanted to know what I could about all of them, but I was too afraid to ask. I was scared that my staring during the presentation would offend them, but then I realized that it was something that these women were trained to deal with. After all, what is the point of signing is no one is there to see it?

At one point during the session, a friend of mine leaned over and whispered something like, “How cool! I know some sign language too!” She then proceeded to try out a few letters of the alphabet and other random signs. I asked her to stop and she asked me why I thought she should. I gave her three reasons. For one, the women could see us and might think that she was mocking them and she did not want to be rude. The second was that they might think that she was trying to communicate with them. The third was that even if the women paid her no attention whatsoever they did need to concentrate and that would be easier without some odd girl toward the middle of the room signing random things in their line of sight. For my part, I was mostly concerned with the thought that the women might assume that we were mocking them; I did not want to seem rude. Even though I could not help but watch the women as they signed, I almost felt that that was alright somehow. It was as though since they were alright, staring was alright also.

When I left the session, it struck me that I had seen the young man walking around and never noticed anything different about him; he blended in with the other hundreds of people. I asked myself if maybe that was what he wanted. Granted, there was nothing low-key about being signed to during a session, but there was something anonymous about his disability the rest of the time. Today, I wish that I had spoken to the young man to ask him my questions, but I know that I would not have found a polite way to phrase them without seeming nosey or rude. My curiosity was my own and he was, and is, another human being that does not need to hear or answer every question I have about him. In the end, all I could do was wonder and watch and hope I caught on along the way.

Big Brother Autism Slur

The key to the ratings machine for reality television lies in creating controversial situations and topics from the so-called unscripted actions of its main characters. Apparently, CBS got more than they bargained for when they chose to air the offensive comments of one of their reality show contestants. Adam Jasinski, a public relations manager for the United Autism Foundation and housemate on CBS’s show Big Brother 9, made comments about his work with children he calls “retards.” Jasinski claimed that he would use part of his winnings from the show—half a million dollars if he won first place—to “open a hair salon for kids with special needs, so the retards can get it together and get their hair done.” His housemate and partner in the game, Sheila, reacted with disapproval to his use of the word “retards” to which Jasinski responded with, “Disabled kids... I can call them whatever I want, OK. I bust my ass to help these special-needs children!”

Since the episode aired, CBS has been defended its use of the clip by saying that Jasinski’s words are his own, and are offensive, but the negative reaction of the other housemate showed this and therefore the clip was alright to air. Meanwhile, the show has lost advertising from home-improvement store Lowe’s and been leveled with complaints and criticism from other autism groups. On top of the show’s problems, this has drawn unwanted attention to the organization for which Jasinski claims to have worked.

Normally, I would shrug off the rude or offensive comments of a person on reality television; after all, they are there for the money and attention, so if they say something inappropriate, they can always go back and claim they just said it to get airtime. The amount of news that has been generated by this shocked me, mostly because people generally do not pay attention to what is said by the contestants on reality shows. This comment has created a stir among people who would not normally be discussing disability issues. I was happily surprised that Lowe’s pulled its advertising over the comment. Perhaps Lowe’s warned CBS about cleaning up its act after past incidents and this was the last straw. Then again, perhaps Lowe’s has realized that airing such content is CBS’s choice and such content is offensive and hurtful to more than just the people on the show.

Jasinki’s comment reminds me of the common line used by people in defense of racist comments: “But some of my best friends are….” Jasinski’s claim that he works with “special-needs” children does not help him defend his statement, if anything, it highlights the fact that he should know better than to use such language. Even his use of the term “special-needs” after the word “retards” further emphasizes the impropriety of word. The website for the organization Jasinski claims to work with often uses the term “special children.” This phrasing reminds me of Simi Linton’s discussion of the word “special.” While I disagreed with Linton’s argument against the use of the word “special” when I applied to education, I agree with the argument here because the words “special children” does come across as an attempt to be too politically correct and patronizing. Considering the group is geared specifically towards autism, why choose the words “special children?” Does the organization mean to be more inclusive by saying “special children” rather than saying “autistic children?” Perhaps this odd phrasing is what has Jasinski so confused about what he should say.

In the end, the comments made by this contestant are hurtful, but they have also proven to be useful. One blogger who commented on the controversy noted an increase in the visitation to her site and was grateful that something positive is coming from this otherwise distasteful situation. By writing and speaking about such offensive comments, people are reinforcing the idea that such comments are just that: offensive. Until the people using such language are made aware of its offensive nature, they will continue to use it without thinking. CBS may be guilty of trying to gain from one man’s ignorance, but they are not alone. At least now, with the disapproving actions of Lowe’s and other advertisers, they are allowing themselves and their contestants to be made examples of for any other show that may be thinking of airing such material. In addition to that, perhaps the inquiry into the organization will reveal whether or not it is worth the money and time that people have donated to it. Perhaps there could be a silver lining to this discussion after all.

Nightline: “'Underdiagnosed' Girls With Autism Struggle to Fit In”

Kaeda Sakai is an eight year-old girl with autism. Through her story, ABC’s Nightline program explores the issue of under diagnosed girls with autism. These girls face difficulties unknown to the average child and misunderstood by the average adult. Unlike their male peers, their symptoms are often explained away as simply being a part of what makes them female. They are “drama queens” or just socially inept when really they show signs of a much greater problem. By remaining undiagnosed, they miss the opportunity to receive the assistance that could help make their lives both easier and more enjoyable. This story tries to understand what makes “girl autism” so different, and how this affects the diagnosis of the girls and young women who live with it every day.

As a young woman, it is not hard for me to relate to difficulties that come with trying to decode the social workings of young girls. They are a group that can be both welcoming and off-putting at the same time, and they require acute attention to social cues and interactions. For a girl with autism not wired to interpret these cues, the effects must be socially devastating. For a young man to be anti-social might be seen as atypical but acceptable; for a young woman, it is unheard of. These young girls with autism are automatically at such a disadvantage with their peers that it must be devastating. A diagnosis could lead to some treatment and an understanding that could only help. On the other side, would the stigma of being a girl with autism only cause more trouble or other issues?

This video discusses the idea that many girls go undiagnosed because they are taught the social skills necessary to pass the diagnostic examinations. They are so developed in this area that only highly trained professionals can really recognize the signs of autism. Is this a form of passing even in young children? Are they taught at such a young age what is acceptable and not that they can hide their disability long enough to remain undiagnosed?

While it is not plausible to think that an eight year-old girl would purposefully try to fool anyone so that she could avoid being diagnosed, it is plausible to think that she has been trained to please adults and so she would try her hardest to do so. Kaeda’s case is special because her parents already had two autistic sons and were therefore better prepared to look for signs of autism in her; the average parent does not have the background knowledge needed to recognize the signs of such higher-functioning forms of autism.

Overall, I believe this article served its purpose. It managed to explain through one benchmark case just why young girls are underdiagnosed with autism. It did not try to understand why girls and boys behave differently with autism or the nature of autism at all. It even acknowledged that it did not answer the question of the difference between “girl autism” and “boy autism.” By doing so, the story was able to focus on what it really wanted to explain, and to tell the story well. The human aspect of this story was what counted, not the science behind it or anything else.

Sloth

The 1985 film, Goonies is an underdog story of a group of teenagers who band together to keep their homes from being bulldozed and turned into a golf course by wealthy land developers. During the film, the audience meets Sloth, a large, disfigured man, and part of the villainous Fratelli family. With his asymmetrical eyes, odd-shaped head, and incredible brute strength, Sloth is unique enough, but added to that is the monstrous treatment he receives from his mother and brothers—they chain him to a wall in a damp basement—and an apparent mental disorder.

In an introduction worthy of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster, he rattles his chains and howls from his small, dark cell, frightening any person who wanders past. During the film, he becomes a hero as he helps save the main characters from his own family through his friendship with the character, Chunk. Chunk even adopts Sloth at the end of the movie. Sloth’s story has a very happy ending, as does the film.

I have always loved the movie Goonies since I was a little girl, and the character of Sloth provides some of the most memorable moments. For many years, Sloth terrified me. His introduction always made me jump, and I could not understand how someone could look like he did. It was not until I was older that I realized that someone under heavy make-up was playing Sloth.

The friendship that develops between Sloth and Chunk is one of the best parts of the film; Chunk is almost utterly unlikable to me, and so his attachment to Sloth, and vice versa, is his one redeeming quality. Between the two of them, the underdog theme gets a completely new angle. Not only are those two characters part of the lower class in the film, they are even the lowest in their close groups. Both are made to feel and seem like outsiders only useful for the entertainment of others. Chunk has his “truffle shuffle,” an embarrassing dance his friends make his perform, and Sloth’s brothers enjoy playing cruel jokes on him and using his mental disability for their amusement.

From a technical standpoint, if Sloth had really existed, he would likely have been a part of some sort of freak show. His physical and mental disabilities would have made him a prime target for slick, traveling showmen. Add in the unkind family he is shown to have in the film, and it is clear that he would have been easily sold off for profit. People like Sloth have often been hidden away by family members or otherwise kept out of the way, and Sloth would have been no exception.

His connection with Chunk forms from this stigma placed on the overweight boy and the monstrous relative. The bond that forms between the two shows just how close two people can be even with extremely different shortcomings or stigmas. Sloth is the catalyst that helps Chunk realize his full potential and save his friends, thus proving that even the people from whom the least is expected can reach their potential in the end. Whether these characters are simple caricature or complex representations of the underdog must be decided by each person who views the film. In the mean time, I am sure Sloth will live on as one of the most memorable parts of the movie, and a significant piece of pop culture history.

Artifact One: “Wheels” and the Burger King Kids Club

During the 1990’s, Burger King introduced the “Burger King Kids Club” and to go with it, the “Burger King Kids Club Gang.” This “gang” was a group of colorfully animated, culturally diverse cartoon kids that would help the restaurant compete with the fast-food giant, McDonalds.

To make the group as appealing and politically correct as they could, advertising executives tried to diversify the group racially and also added a boy named Wheels, who got his name from his wheelchair and apparent love of speed. Wheels was in a wheelchair, but this was no ordinary wheelchair, his was controlled by a joystick and included exhaust pipes coming out of the wheels.

I do not remember how I felt the first time I saw Wheels when I was younger. As a member of the club, I saw the little videos that the characters were in, but I do not think it struck me as odd that Wheels was in a wheelchair. In fact, the way the character is treated, it seems as though he is in the wheelchair of his own volition and only chooses to be in it because he likes the speed and mobility of it. Rather than appearing as though the wheelchair represents some sort of affliction, it becomes the cool choice of a kid who just wants to go fast.

When I tried to remember the names of the other characters, I have to admit that Wheels was the only I could come up with which I suppose is a testament to the skill of the advertisers that created him.

This artifact could be seen as just an advertising play to try to and cover all of the bases, but the timing seems to point to something else. The year 1990 marked the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act, an event that could possibly point to why the Burger King marketing executives felt that adding a disabled child to their marketing campaign would be effective. With the addition of Wheels to the gang, Burger King would not only reach a slightly wider audience of children, but they would appear socially aware to the parents who would ultimately decide where those children ate.

Whether anyone with a disability was consulted for his or her take on the campaign may never be known, but it does not appear that Burger King wanted to make any large social statement about disability. Wheels’s ultimate goal was to sell burgers to small children, not open eyes to a largely over-looked group or topic.

A critical eye could easily see the character Wheels as a shameless way to play into the changing times of the early nineties. In their need to appeal to a broader audience, Burger King thought to appeal to every group that they could think of without giving any of those groups any real depth. By doing so, they become pointless stereotypes of little-to-no feeling and of little consequence. Perhaps the character of Wheels did make some children feel better about their own issues, and perhaps he was just a pawn. In any case, the character managed to be out in the public eye without causing any sort of notable controversy. In the end, Wheels and his friends served their purpose in bringing kids and their parents into Burger King restaurants around the world, so he has done his job. One simply has to wonder though if he could have accomplished much more than that.

"Good Country People"

Flannery O’Connor’s main character in the short story “Good Country People” is known as either Joy or Hulga.  She wears a prosthetic leg, yet she can never be considered a “Tiny Tim” character, poignantly weak or plaintive.  She does not overcome her disability and she inspires no one with her great courage.  The attitude toward disability in this short story, however, remains much more complex and multifaceted than might originally be thought.  Prominent in its complex layers of absurdity, disability has a grotesque representation in the uniquely quirky character of Joy.

When first read, “Good Country People” elicits mixed feelings.  The plot involves a young woman, educated to the doctoral level, who wears a prosthetic wooden leg stolen by a door-to-door Bible salesman whom she has tried to seduce.  O’Conner describes Joy, in her early thirties, as a large blond girl.  Her mother regards her as a child who has never danced or had any normal good times.  Further, she is described as “bloated, rude, and squint-eyed” with a sense of “constant outrage.”  She has the look of “someone who had achieved blindness by an act of will and means to keep it,” making an awful stomping noise when she walks.  Accordingly, the reader must only assume that Joy is still a child and that she exaggerates her disability on purpose. 

In fact, at times Joy appears proud of her disability and seems to say, “Here I am, take me as I am.”  The reader wants to admire her for her strength, her wit, her intelligence, her defiance and her seemed ability to be comfortable with her own identity.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

Although her name is Joy, she instructs everyone to call her Hulga because, as she says, it lacks the obvious connotation of beauty and pleasure.  Though she has a Ph.D. in philosophy, her intellect is held up to ridicule by O’Connor.  Joy loathes practically everyone and everything.  Though her neighbors do not appear to be pleasant people, they take perverse pleasure and interest in “secret infections” and “horrible deformities.”  This is, undoubtedly, a common occurrence in real life that many disabled people can relate to.

In “Good Country People,” a traveling Bible salesman steals Joy’s glasses and her prosthetic leg.  On first reading, one might assume that O’Connor uses a crude plot device by putting an assertive disabled character in her place, so to speak, for her intellectual pretensions through an attack on her disability.  Disabilities are integral parts of those that have them, but in this short story however, Joy’s disability is her sole defining characteristic, thus making her grotesque in both mind and body.

Joy is trapped now.  She had choices, but she resigns herself to living with her mother.  She resigns herself to bitterness and she seems quite happy with her decision.  She gets to judge others.  She chooses an easy way to go through life.

By using disability a symbol for weakness, ugliness, and undesirability, one must question whether Flannery O’Connor pigeonholes her main character as outside a “normal” life.  Further, one must question whether O’Connor intends for Joy to be interpreted as extremely intelligent, but still subject to pity by those whom she considers her intellectual inferiors.  Joy must decide whether she should drop her pretensions of “genius” and superiority and realize, finally, that no one is perfect, herself included, or hold on the her illusion of mental superiority and being better than everyone.  Joy wrongly assumes she cannot be outsmarted.  She quickly learns there is someone smarter than she.  There always is.

Acceptance of Down Syndrome

As everyone knows, a person with Down syndrome is certainly recognizable, as their disability is plainly visible.  Wide-set, almond-shaped eyes, flat nasal bridge, short stature and short limbs, thick neck, poor muscle tone, and the characteristic protruding tongue and single palm creases—all are outward signs of Down syndrome.  Cognitive impairment, varying degrees of learning disabilities and mental retardation, and congenital heart defects are only a few of the inward signs of this complex genetic condition.  A problem arises, however, when the outward appearance of a child with Down syndrome affects his acceptance into society.  Questions arise.  Should such a child be surgically altered to become more acceptable?  The answer to this question is a resounding “yes” to one couple in the United Kingdom.  A plastic surgeon and his “surgically enhanced” wife admit they are considering surgically altering their daughter’s appearance in the future to assure society’s acceptance of her.  Yet this raises another question:  are they considering surgery to help their daughter in the future, with her happiness in mind, or are they more concerned with their own disappointment in having a less-than-perfect child?  Further, this is certainly commentary on what we, as a society, value…whatever is aesthetically pleasing.

Ophelia Kirwan, age two, has no idea she has Down syndrome, or for that matter, what Down syndrome even is.  She has no idea she looks different from most other two-year-olds, and she has no idea of her pivotal position in this furious ethical debate.  While their admission could be considered noteworthy, her parents maintain they fear that Ophelia and “others like her” will be unfairly judged for their appearance, particularly where it concerns future employment.  They maintain they simply want her to be happy, and they are not alone in this sentiment.  Another couple in the UK have already had cosmetic surgery performed on their own daughter, Georgia, who also has Down syndrome, three times before she was five years old, once to “correct” her protruding tongue, once to “correct” her slanting eyes, and once to “correct” her ears that stuck out.  Again, they cite their daughter’s happiness as their only concern.             

When considering this news story, we must question what these parents are modeling for their children, especially in regard to attitudes toward disabilities.  Many times, these behaviors are learned.  Further, cosmetic surgery can only affect outward appearance.  What will they do for inward manifestations of Down syndrome?  Does this say that outward appearance is of supreme importance?  Ultimately, will cosmetic surgery make any difference to how these children feel about themselves?  Will they even know the difference, and isn’t that what these parents should be considering?  

An Exceptional Poet

Contemporary American poet, Paul Guest, frequently participates in casual poetry readings at Meacham Writers’ Workshop, regularly held at the University of Tennessee, in Chattanooga.  In the spring of 2006, Guest read several selections from his chapbook entitled, The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World.  Paralyzed in a bicycle accident at age twelve, Guest is an uncommon writer whose life might demand pity, but he refuses the label of victim. 

            Two days of readings are typically followed by a casual reception at a participant’s home.  On this occasion, we were invited to a third-floor walk-up apartment, without handicapped access.  Confined to a motorized wheelchair, the only way Guest could participate in the festivities would be to allow others to carry him and his two hundred pound wheelchair upstairs.  He chose not to suffer that indignity, but rather remained outside, at street level, on the sidewalk.  I remember wondering at the time why there was no handicapped access to the building, but then I remembered it was a private residence, divided into three apartments.  Perhaps accessibility laws do not apply in this case.

One of the more popular poets present, Guest garnered much attention outside and many left the party upstairs to join him on the sidewalk.  I was one of those on the sidewalk.  We stayed there for over two hours reading our work, talking, drinking wine and having a wonderful time.   Not so upstairs.  When I returned upstairs some time later, I heard grumblings about the “prima donna” downstairs.  I heard, “How dare he hold court outside!  He could have brought a lighter chair.  He could have been carried upstairs!  He could have made other arrangements!”

I was shocked at what, to me, seemed only to be misplaced jealousy.  Most were genuinely happy to see Guest in attendance, whatever way they could spend time with him.  They were grateful he came.  Others, however, felt he should have suffered whatever indignity he had to, just to conform.  Many assumptions were made; assumptions that the disabled must suffer indignity to fit into the able-bodied world, that this poet must explain his reasons for not wanting to be carried upstairs, that this poet was somehow less for remaining outside, that this poet was a “prima donna” and expected to be catered to.  Nothing was further from the truth.  This poet acted with dignity and with respect for others.  I wish the same could be said for all, especially those who, with a little better planning and foresight, could have made suitable arrangements for all to be satisfied.

"The Maiden Without Hands" by Grimm

In “The Maiden Without Hands” by the Brothers Grimm, a miller, through a bargain with the devil, chops off the hands of his beautiful daughter in order to save himself.  Consumed with guilt, but more concerned with his own safety, he asks his daughter for forgiveness, which she freely gives, though she realizes she can no longer live with her parents.  She sets out on her own. 

            Grimm’s fairy tale spotlights the fact that the loss of one’s hands, especially at the hands of a parent, makes a compelling symbolic statement.  A father, one of the two people a child should be most able to trust, the principle authority figure in a young girl’s life, the person who should be her staunchest protector, performs the act that horribly disfigures his own daughter.  Without hands, the daughter no longer has the very mechanisms that allow her to control and manipulate her world.  Without hands, she loses her self-worth and becomes vulnerable, and she must now exist at the mercy of others.  With the loss of her hands, she cannot work, she cannot perform simple tasks, she cannot care for others effectively, and thus she becomes the embodiment of disability. 

            In the tale, the maiden travels to a garden where a king sees her and immediately falls in love with her.  He has silver hands made for her.  He later goes to battle and leaves her in the care of his mother.  Shortly after his departure, she gives birth to a son, whom she names “Pain-bringer.”  Through a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, the maiden, now a queen, and her son are forced to leave the protection of the king’s castle.  She wanders and eventually comes to a safe house where she remains for many years.  Here, she is so good and pious and happy that her arms grow back.  Essentially, Grimm’s message is that, through suffering, her disability can be overcome. 

            Eventually, the king finds his queen, though he does not recognize her with flesh and blood hands.  He remembers the silver hands he had made for her.  He does not recognize her without her disability.  He, possibly, associates her only with her disability, what he remembers as her defining feature.  

            The most interesting part of this fairy tale is how it represents notions about disability.  It implies that, if one waits long enough, and through suffering and good deeds, one will be rewarded.  One will triumph over severe adversity and overcome any disability.  One’s disability will disappear and only goodness will replace it.  Oh, were it only that simple.  

Shared Lives

Abigail and Brittany Hensel, born in March of 1990, are dicephalic conjoined twins.  They have two spines that join at a shared pelvis.  With most of the twins’ shared organs below the waist, they have two heads, two spinal cords and backbones, two arms, two legs, one pelvis, two stomachs, three and a half lungs, two hearts in a shared circulatory system, two breasts, one liver, three kidneys, one bladder, and one reproductive system.  Each twin controls one side of their conjoined body.  Through coordinated efforts, they are able to walk and run normally.  They enjoy sports, photography, and socializing with friends.  They play piano and recently received their driver’s licenses.  Despite sharing one body, the twins have different tastes in food and clothes, as well as different personalities.  A recent YouTube video chronicles their lives as they turned sixteen.  The girls are walking examples of camaraderie and compromise as they negotiate their conjoined body through shared lives.

Any video submitted to YouTube is subject to immediate scrutiny and allows for posted comments from any viewer with a computer and Internet access.  Not all comments are kind or supportive.  Many reflect a “sideshow” mentality and many others reflect normal, healthy curiosity.  Surely one must wonder why anyone would open their life up to public examination as the girls have done in this video.  They are subjects of YouTube’s mini-documentary, originally aired on The Learning Channel, now entitled, “Two-Headed Girl,” a title that clearly misrepresents who they are.  As conjoined twins, they are two individuals, despite the title.  Perhaps this is why they are subjects of such a video, to alleviate misconceptions about their lives.  Perhaps they simply want the public to realize they are individuals who just happen to share one body.  Perhaps they want to make a statement about what others might consider a disability, even a liability.  Perhaps they simply enjoy publicity.  Regardless, this video offers insight into what must surely be challenging lives.

I first became aware of the Hensel twins from a cover of Life magazine in 1998, when they were eight years old.  “One Body, Two Souls” portrayed their lives as engaging and surprisingly “normal.”  Siblings in multiple births are fascinating, but conjoined twins, a rare occurrence, are enthralling.  We cannot help but watch when we see them.  We want to know how they manage their daily lives and how they cope with such close proximity to another person, with no chance for escape.  They raise questions within us.  We want to know what it might be like when our own individuality is in question, when the boundaries of the self are infringed upon.  We want to know how essential privacy is to happiness.  We want to know just how “normal” their lives can be. 

Imagine the stigma of being known as the “two-headed girl.”  Imagine the negative comments and the stares from those who neither know them, nor wish to know them.  This video, despite its title, show two girls, two individuals who just happen to share one body.  They cannot be separated because of their shared organs.  They cannot lead separate lives.  Though it must be quite challenging at times, even frustrating, they seem quite comfortable in their shared skin.

"Ascension"

Paul Guest, paralyzed in a bicycle accident at age twelve, is an American poet whose life seems worthy of a healthy dose of self-pity, yet he forces nothing of the kind on his reader.  His first collection of poems, entitled The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World, acknowledges the mishap of his circumstance, but defies the attribute of victim.  Guest considers various disasters, diseases, and disabilities without such vexations usually suggested by society.  One poem in particular, “Ascension,” discusses disability and one perception of it as a prison, comparing it to other forms of life imprisoned.  Guest’s speaker in “Ascension” recalls life before his accident, a life commingled with his brother, a boy who posses a weak soul, and life and healing after the accident that broke him.  The speaker compares the lives of the two boys as they grow into men, the choices they make, and the consequences of their choices.  Disability plays a role, of course, but a role far from the central concern of the poem, a role that defers to two boys who decide whether healing, and specifically emotional healing, will take place, or not.

            “Ascension” tells the story of two brothers, one born on the day Elvis Presley died, and the other, old enough to remember the occasion of his birth.  The older brother recalls pacing the floor as his mother labors.  In later years, the family jokes to the younger brother that some part of Elvis passed into him, that their souls mingled in the air, but later deciding this is an unfortunate comparison, given the younger brother’s weak soul.  The speaker, the older brother, then discusses the day of his accident, the day his life changed forever. 

            Essentially, Guest uses art as an equalizer, a method of compensation, if you will, in this poem.  Elvis Presley, as everyone knows, was a famous rock and roll singer.  By mingling the souls of the weak brother and Elvis Presley, Guest establishes a level playing field for the two brothers, given that the older brother is the speaker of the poem.  Music and poetry serve to equalize the two brothers, regardless of the injury and subsequent disability the older brother suffers.  Guest’s speaker expects silence from God, perhaps for allowing the accident to change the course of his life.  But by bringing the two brothers together through art, their lives remain connected.  They have no reason to separate, regardless of disability, regardless of the weaker brother’s subsequent stint in prison. 

Guest’s use of the prison metaphor in this poem questions which brother actually is in prison; the one confined to a wheelchair who leads an active, productive life, or the one actually in prison, the one who actually is free of nothing.  The reader is free to decide.

Mrs. Costilow

I entered my third-grade classroom with the trepidation that always accompanies the first day of school. It was a new teacher, one my older sister had never had. Her name was Mrs. Costilow. She was sitting in a large black chair in the front of the room, and after the bell rang and we all recited the Pledge of Allegiance together, she told us to come sit around her on the floor. As we crossed our legs in front of us and looked up at her, she pushed a small knob on her chair and moved towards us. I knew it was a wheelchair; I had seen them before. Mrs. Costilow turned to us, and started telling us a story.

She told us that one day she had been going to a meeting with three other teachers. They were crossing a train track, had looked both ways, but when they were driving over the tracks something happened to the car. It was stopped. They tried to get it started, but it wouldn’t go. Then, she told us, they heard the sound of a train. The other teachers got out of the car, but Mrs. Costilow was caught in her seatbelt. She was stuck in the car and the train hit her. Her legs got hurt so badly, she had to get new ones, she told us. Then she reached down, took off her leg, and held it up for us to see. “This is what my new legs look like,” she told us. She passed the leg around, but I didn’t want to touch it. She sat in her chair, rubbing the part of her leg that was left. There was a sock-like thing around the end of her leg. She told us that was to protect it, and that sometimes the fake legs hurt. She told us they were hard to walk on, so she used a wheelchair.

Mrs. Costilow never really talked about her legs after that first day. It seemed normal to have a teacher in a wheelchair. She was a lot of fun. Sometimes she would run over our feet in her chair (it didn’t hurt). In the Faculty Follies, a show where the teachers act out songs that they like, she played “The leader of the pack.” She pretended her wheelchair was a motorcycle. One day she got a flat tire and we had to wait in the hall for the janitor to pump it back up.
I always liked Mrs. Costilow, not for her legs or her wheelchair, but because she was a good teacher. When I was a freshman in college, my mother, who is a minister, took a job at a different church on the other side of town. My first time there, I saw Mrs. Costilow. She walks with crutches now instead of using her wheelchair. She was still nice.

My third-grade teacher was my first obvious encounter with anyone with a disability. I had grown up with my uncle, who is blind, but we never out-right talked about that until I was older. Mrs. Costilow came right out and talked about being in a wheelchair. When I read through the website cripcommentary.com, I couldn’t help but think about Mrs. Costilow. Maybe she was lucky that my elementary school was built during the seventies, and the coolest thing about it was the long, sloping ramps. She seemed so good-natured and open about everything that had happened to her. Maybe she had to be, since she taught eight-year old children.

Driving Blind

My Uncle Jeff is legally blind. When he was in high school he started losing his vision, and it went quickly. I grew up seeing his lack of vision as normal. I don’t remember if we ever had a big “revealing” or if it was just something I grew to understand, but my Uncle Jeff always looked sidelong at you. He always sat right next to the television, he asked his wife whether the platter in front of him had the dark sausage rolls or the light sausage rolls, because he couldn’t tell. He earned his degree from TTU in psychology, he holds a job working for the state as a psychologist, and he even competes in triathlons and half marathons. I’ve always respected him for just being a good person, never mind his disability.

This semester, though, I learned something new about my uncle. At the age of 16, his vision fading fast, my grandparents, his parents, spent thousands of dollars on telescopic glasses, hoping to buy him a little more time with his eyes. He took advantage of this and got his driver’s license. He never drove, but my grandfather made sure he had a car so that his friends could drive him around, even if they didn’t have a car themselves. What I learned, though, was that he still has a valid license. His oldest daughter, my cousin, is 15 and has a learner’s permit. The law states that anyone holding a learner’s permit must be supervised by a parent or guardian with a valid driver’s license in the front seat. My uncle, therefore, is technically able to do this, despite the fact that he can no longer read without extreme magnification.

When my grandmother told me this, she was so proud of him. She started crying thinking about how he’s held onto his driver’s license and his pride. At first, I was impressed too. But then I thought past his disability and thought that maybe, this was simply shockingly illegal. I am torn now between respecting him for being as normal as possible, and feeling appalled that he would be so irresponsible to consider himself adequate supervision for his daughter as she learns to drive.

Austism Speaks

"You Asked, She Answered: Carly Fleischmann, 13, Talks to Our Views About Autism." ABC News Online. .

      The original article, presenting Carly and describing her incredible breakthrough, offers a chance for readers to post questions to Carly and have her answer them. Some of the questions are a little trite, and the original article probably has better responses than the question and answer follow-up. Asked what she wants people who do not understand autism to know, Carly responds:
Autism is hard because you want to act one way, but you can't
always do that. It's sad that sometimes people don't know that
sometimes I can't stop myself and they get mad at me. If I could
tell people one thing about autism it would be that I don't want
to be this way. But I am, so don't be mad. Be understanding. (abcnews.com)

In Carly’s own words, we have an opportunity to learn what it is like to be trapped inside a mind that won’t let you speak. She urges other therapists, in her question and answer article, to be patient with their charges and continue to encourage them. One reader asked, “What one thing do you think my autistic child would want me to know about him?” Carly, tellingly, answered, “I think he would want you to know that he knows more than you think he does. He is lucky to have nice parents” (abcnews.com). The answers provided by Carly give hope, no doubt, to countless parents of autistic children who cannot speak.

This is obviously a very heart-warming and encouraging story for many people, especially those with children who have autism and cannot speak. The fact that Carly can now show exactly how much she does know, and how much she picks up on is something everyone can appreciate. She shows that being unable to talk does not equate being unable to comprehend. For doctors and therapists, this opens up a world of opportunity. As Carly’s father explains, even professionals had labeled Carly as “moderately to severely cognitively impaired” (abcnews.com).

Guilt

“In the Way.” Laura Hershey. 1992. www.cripcommentary.com

           The first three lines of the poem seem so normal for me. As a waitress, I have had to ask people to move often, and I would be hard pressed to say that I ever had to ask a wheelchair-using person to move; usually, it was just people with their chairs stuck way out in the aisle. Although I don’t know that I would have worded things exactly the way this waitress did, I understand the sentiment here. I have to side with the waitress, and that alienates me, as the able-bodied reader, from the poem in the very first stanza. To me, the whole idea of getting what one wants by aggravating and annoying others is wrong. Maybe it’s my upbringing, but I would prefer to get what I want by explaining and teaching, not being such a pain that people don’t have any choice but to give in. I feel guilty for this, but I don’t agree with the speaker. 

The part that bothers me most, however, is the penultimate stanza, where the speaker is intent on building walls between herself and the (I assume) able-bodied who wish to deprive her of her rights. I, rather naïvely, I guess, assumed that the point of disabilities activism was to tear down walls, not create them. But in this stanza, with her language, insisting that she can “turn back/ customers, employees, delivery people, even cops” she seems to want to make others feel shamed and disgraced, and like some super-hero corrupted, flaunt her power over others ( ). I suppose in the circumstances, many people would love the feeling of power. But loving something has never made it the wisest choice, and perhaps the speaker would benefit from some distance at this point.

Hershey makes some very valid points in her writing. There are many things that should be changed, including disability rights. But I think that she also fails to realize that anyone can be in the way, not just her. I’ve been asked to move countless times by wait staff, because I have a tendency to tip my chair back and stretch out my legs. That does not, however, mean that the wait staff had something against long-legged people. Good service requires being able to move around quickly, and having people in the aisle is not conducive to that. Hershey also seems to thrill at the idea of lording herself over formerly powerful people. I don’t know if she would take it to the extreme that Hop-Frog did in the Poe story by the same name, but her idea of making a wall out of her wheelchair, separating herself in an ivory (wheelchair accessible) tower is one that could possible do more harm than good, as far as her cause is concerned.

Half-Man, Half-Tree

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Artifact 1

“Doctors refuse mother’s request to remove disabled daughter’s womb ‘because of charity backlash’." The Daily Mail.

What is at stake here is a person’s right to choose, but in this case, the person cannot communicate what it is they choose. Like many in the disabled community, Katie Thorpe cannot express herself, and it is up to her caretaker, in this case, her mother Alison, to act on her behalf. However, charitable organizations, designed to represent the disabled, have stepped in and said that they better represent the wishes of the disabled. Personal rights should never be impeached, and an irreversible surgery to remove a woman’s womb would certainly be an impeachment of personal liberty, if, and only if, that person objected to the surgery. Is this a case of one person or one organization going too far? It would be easy to assume that Katie would not want to be subjected to the pain, discomfort, or humiliation of menstruation when her mother already must change Katie’s diapers (Katie is also incontinent). But what if some medical breakthrough is made in the next few years, while Katie is still of childbearing age? At this time, science is making leaps and bounds in progress, and a ‘cure’ for cerebral palsy could happen, even in the next twenty years or so. In that case, if Katie could be cured, the loss of her womb would be a devastating impeachment on her personal rights. However, if Katie is not cured, what then? Like many other disability rights issues, the choice of a patient who cannot communicate for herself cannot be properly understood. Then we must ask ourselves, who makes the final decision? Is it her mother, who raised her and takes care of her every day? Or the disability rights organizations, which know nothing of her personal life, but claim to know everything about her situation?