"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.