Reddit users wondered how blind people (especially those blind from birth) would understand their sexuality or identify as LGBTQ – how could they be attracted to individuals whom they cannot see?
Users who were blind came across the question and supplied the answer:
“When I meet someone, what I go by is their voice, their smell, their kindness, and their willingness to help me when needed,” said one.
They largely agreed on voice being a key attribute.
It’s about the feeling, they described, the butterflies they’d feel in their stomach when touching someone of their preferred gender – or even just being close to them, to that tangible sort of energy – eliciting involuntary reactions not experienced when with the other gender.
Our connections to each other are so complex and multifaceted and ingrained that of course it extends beyond one specific human sense. And understanding this depth is an important step in recognizing that the LGBTQ experience is one that’s full, rewarding, and, truly, love.
This is going to sound very harsh but listen- this comes off as sighted people having a monumentally difficult time comprehending that blind people are able to form meaningful romantic relationships just like them.
Like I get it this piece’s intentions are good and it’s touching and heartwarming but blind people are not zoo animals that behave so strangely and mysteriously that y’all have to act like everything we do is somehow profound and amazing, especially LGBT blind people who are already othered. We’re human too, not an op-ed showpiece to teach sighted folk that ~~~love is real it extends beyond physical appearance uwuuu~~~. Y’all should be able to figure that out (and to appreciate LGBT love!) on your own WITHOUT having to use disabled people’s experiences as inspiration porn. This is an important article that should exist!! But please, be careful with how you word things.
It’s very hurtful to see people responding to us in regards to this eugenics conversation & the topic of people with genetic illnesses having children and saying stuff like “I generally agree with you but I really hope that people with ___ don’t have children.”
We get it you don’t believe in eugenics from a moral standpoint but if you could you would like to make sure we couldn’t breed. Like I said, I have a genetic blood disorder and I suffer from depression which is a problem for both my parents and other family members as well. You tell us that you understand and then lecture us about why we shouldn’t have children. As if this isn’t something that doesn’t cross all of our minds. Trust me. I probably wouldn’t even want kids anyway but that doesn’t mean the fear of what might happen to my hypothetical child doesn’t cross my mind constantly. You don’t have to tell us what you think about it all, we’ve heard it all before and we’ve thought about it numerous times.
And you’re not really convincing me when you go on and on about how you don’t think there’s anything wrong with us BUT you pray that we don’t have kids. You say it’s about the possibility of passing on our traits to an innocent, but all I’m hearing is that you don’t think people like us should exist. It’s just hard to see that you’re coming from a place of support or kindness or whatever when you’re butting in with some opinion that nobody asked for about our lives and our worth.
In my psychopharmacology class we had a paper & discussion on taking medication for mental illness while pregnant. It very quickly turned and several people started to bring up “Well should people with mental illnesses even have kids?” And one guy, I shit you not, said that doctors should secretly lace medication for mentally ill women with something that sterilizes them so they wouldn’t breed. Like, these conversations almost always get bad VERY fast and it’s amazing how many people hold these beliefs.
I know this is like a really controversial opinion but fat people deserve to be treated like a human beings whether they’re healthy or not
This ties into treating disabled people like they’re inhuman. It’s the same principle: “you’re like this because you’re too immoral to help yourself, otherwise you’d be healthy”
I ran across this on Twitter the other day, and ouch. I still can’t comment much, but it was good to see someone addressing this particular version of horribleness around disability and sexuality which very rarely seems to come up.
In my lifetime, I never really got the message that I was expected to be nonsexual and desexualized because I am autistic. (I know many other autistic people do get those messages – especially if they are nonspeaking and/or have multiple other apparent disabilities.) Instead, I got a series of messages that I was in fact a sexual being, but anything to do with my sexuality was gross and an object of mockery, or, to be used only for really fucked up fetishes for which I could become a fantasy object (but that was much later). I’m willing to bet money that I am not the only autistic person of any gender or sexuality or asexuality to have had this kind of sexual harassment happen to them. It seems particularly targeted to people who are neurodivergent in pretty specific ways, and like it particularly emerged in adolescence – in high school – though I’m sure it could and has happened to autistic adults of younger and older ages too.
Just in case I wasn’t clear, this kind of behavior and sexual interrogation is ableist sexual harassment and ableist bullying, and can probably amount to ableist sexual abuse depending on the circumstances. I can probably think of even more ways in which my a/sexuality was targeted by some or another person or group to be dragged into the open and mocked, but honestly, I’d prefer not to go trawling through memories that it seems like I’ve blocked out at least some of. My point is that many of us have had extremely varied experiences with all types of sexual harassment and sexual abuse, both the type of abuse that desexualizes disabled people, and the type of abuse that hyper-sexualizes and/or mocks or pities, and some of it can be incredibly disability-specific.
I will add that this abusive behavior can also be devastating in some slighly different ways if the person has absolutely no clue why they are really getting targeted. Which very rarely has much if anything to do, in reality, with any of the stated reasons for people feeling a need to go totally out of their way to keep informing you of what a uniquely repulsive freak you are. (Plus do whatever other horrible things occur to them, yeah.)
I know that helped push me over into a full-on eating disorder in middle school, among some other lasting effects. When the real problem was never actually my looks, but a gross stew of -isms.
I also wish I were surprised that the author of the first piece almost immediately started getting a stream of particularly badly applied platitudes in response. (That Twitter thread.) A lot of it variations on the exact same kinds of shit I got to hear anytime I tried to discuss anything related to this, much less the effects on my wellbeing, when it was still actively happening. Including from some adults who very much should have known better.
As she put it in that thread: “Platitudes in my opinion are never useful but when they pop up in direct response to narratives of oppression they are active erasure”
That type of response is the opposite of helpful to anyone but the person avoiding engaging with the actual issues involved, by shutting down and turning things around on anyone who tries to talk about them. My tolerance for that behavior is basically nil by now, around a number of topics.
I can’t count the amount of people who have said some variation of “I don’t think of you that way” when it comes up that I’m disabled.
Disability (n.):
a physical or mental condition that limits a person’s movements, senses, or activities.
I have permanent paralysis in my shoulder, arm, and hand from an injury to my brachial plexus. My range of motion in that arm is about 40% of what a typical, uninjured arm would be, not to mention my underdeveloped strength, dislocated shoulder, and the resulting scoliosis. I could go on. Based on the simplest, literal definition, I am definitely disabled, because at the very least, compared with a typical body, my movements are limited.*
So, why am I always hearing “I don’t think of you that way”?
Often a person says it to relieve their own social discomfort or cognitive dissonance, either because I’ve self-identified as disabled or because they’ve said something disparaging about disabled people. Examples:
My boyfriend’s mom says she has “crippling self-doubt.” My boyfriend says, “bad word choice,” gesturing to me. She does a double take, looks my way, and says “Oh, I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me because I don’t see you that way.”
My college roommate and I are chatting and I mention, in a neutral tone, that I am disabled. In the voice of someone finally expressing something that’s been bothering her, she says “I don’t know why you think of yourself that way. I don’t think of you that way.”
In the first example, my boyfriend’s mom uses “crippling,” (cripple (n.): a person who is partially or totally unable to use one or more limbs) as shorthand to say that her self-doubt prevents her from normal activities, or at least from the activities she’d prefer to take part in. When my boyfriend points out that this metaphor implies physical disability (such as mine) necessarily means abnormal, negative, or useless, she experiences discomfort. She relieves it by saying, “I don’t think of you that way,” preserving the abnormal, negative, or useless associations in her head with physical disability. Because she sees me as normal, useful, productive, I must not be disabled. The definition of disability shifts from a value-neutral description of physical or mental difference to a negative social role, in order to exclude me.
In the second example, my roommate does something similar. Although I don’t express sadness or anger when calling myself disabled, it makes her upset, and she pushes back. That’s because, rather than seeing disability as a value-neutral physical or mental difference, she sees it as a negative social role. In her mind, by self-identifying this way, I’m insulting myself.
The problem with both these lines of logic is twofold:
The definition of disability shifts at will in order to protect the nondisabled person’s perception of disability as a negative attribute.
Inclusion and exclusion into this social role shifts at will in order to protect the nondisabled person’s perception of disability as a negative attribute and attitude toward disabled people that they do “think of that way.”
If I’m not disabled, then I have no way to explain why I was told not to become a lifeguard, or why men routinely refuse to date me because my “arm is just too weird,” or why strangers approach me to tell me how great it is that I’m out living life. I lose out on putting a name to these negative experiences (which is a necessary part of healing from them and fighting back) in order to protect nondisabled people’s shifting definition of disability.
Worse still, if I’m not disabled, then disabled people are just the faceless, abnormal, negative, useless Other. If, as soon as a person because a valued figure in your life, they’re excluded from that group, it is far too easy to dehumanize, objectify, and disenfranchise that group.
*I wouldn’t trade that limitation of movement for the world, as it’s caused me to develop an interesting set of physical skills that nondisabled people lack along with character traits that are integral to my personality. But that’s for a different post.
“If, as soon as a person becomes a valued figure in your life, they’re excluded from that group, it is far too easy to dehumanize, objectify, and disenfranchise that group.”
Wow. Thank you for putting this into words so well. I’m going to use this.
Good description. “I don’t think of you as X” seems to function similarly in so many contexts, and it’s depressing.
And it occurs to me again that similar attitudes may well help explain the otherwise baffling figure that “nearly half (43%) of the British public say they do not know anyone who is disabled”. When it’s hard to see how that could even be possible, in reality.
There is also possibly the question of how closely do you need to know someone before even counting them when asked about it.
But, that kind of response (not to mention “just a third (33%)…said that they would feel comfortable talking to disabled
people”) would make a lot more sense if actual disabled people existing in front of them were getting excluded from this very negative stereotyped mental image of The Disabled.
“
But, that kind of response (not to mention “just a third (33%)…said that they would feel comfortable talking to disabled
people”) would make a lot more sense if actual disabled people
existing in front of them were getting excluded from this very negative
stereotyped mental image of The Disabled.
“
True, that.
“Oh? Grandma? She’s old, yeah. But she’s not “Disabled”. She just can’t see very well, anymore, and has to use a walking frame when she goes out, now. But she’s doin’ pretty good, considering she’s pushing 90. So it’s to be expected.”
It’s that “It’s to be expected” that’s the key. “Disability” as a social construct is a marker for whatever breaks and/or challenges the “normal.” That’s why, in the American news media, financial aid programs are often described as being for “the Elderly and Disabled” – two distinct groups.
And this is why, I think, accommodations for wounded war veterans are lauded, while the exact same accommodations for disabled civilians are called “Government waste” and “Political correctness gone mad.” Because the cultural narrative has a place for the wounded veteran of war to fit into – “It’s the price ‘we’ (healthy, able bodied civilians) pay for our freedoms” – while the kid who happened to be born disabled is nothing but a burden, and a drain on the GDP (and notice how, even the lauded war veteran becomes the public property of society as soon as they returned from the battlefield with a disability).
I’m also pretty overwhelmed right now, with what sounds like an extremely distressed old lady crying out again at the damned nursing home across the street.
(Which has been an ongoing stressor in general since they built it, and not for the NIMBYish reasons that had some other people in the gentrifying neighborhood trying to head it off in the planning stages.)
But yeah, it’s not just the hyperempathy thing, though that is definitely not making things easier. It’s also knowing that they could literally be torturing and killing someone in there, and not that many people would be interested enough not to just tut and find some justification for any terrible institutional shit that might be happening.
This is not the first time in the past few weeks that I’ve heard the same person that distressed. It’s also been going on for at least an hour now this morning (could be several more still, going by other times). So, at least I don’t think she is in more immediate danger at the moment, near impossible as that is to tell from outside. But, there’s nothing obvious that I can reasonably do about the whole situation, which is just heartbreaking.
I honestly did consider calling the police the first night I heard her screaming and crying and yelling for help over there, as much as I don’t trust them either. It sounded that worrying. But, what are the chances of a call like that getting taken remotely seriously, even without the possibility of making the situation worse for the person already screaming? They’re sure as hell not going to buzz some random angry neighborhood person in to let them see wtf is going on, and talk to her.
Much less buzz anyone out if they really want to leave, yeah.
I have never seen anyone who wasn’t staff outside the building, either. Maybe a few visitors on a weekend, but not even many of them. More than a few red flags that I have noticed.
And the situation is that upsetting from a place of relative safety, on the other side of the street. Not living as essentially a prisoner myself over there.
And all of this mostly just gets accepted as normal and inevitable. That’s the really overwhelming part. I am honestly still not NEARLY as used to that, and don’t plan on trying to get more comfortable with it. Bad enough situation even when nobody is actively screaming and crying for help loudly enough to hear across the street.
I can’t count the amount of people who have said some variation of “I don’t think of you that way” when it comes up that I’m disabled.
Disability (n.):
a physical or mental condition that limits a person’s movements, senses, or activities.
I have permanent paralysis in my shoulder, arm, and hand from an injury to my brachial plexus. My range of motion in that arm is about 40% of what a typical, uninjured arm would be, not to mention my underdeveloped strength, dislocated shoulder, and the resulting scoliosis. I could go on. Based on the simplest, literal definition, I am definitely disabled, because at the very least, compared with a typical body, my movements are limited.*
So, why am I always hearing “I don’t think of you that way”?
Often a person says it to relieve their own social discomfort or cognitive dissonance, either because I’ve self-identified as disabled or because they’ve said something disparaging about disabled people. Examples:
My boyfriend’s mom says she has “crippling self-doubt.” My boyfriend says, “bad word choice,” gesturing to me. She does a double take, looks my way, and says “Oh, I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me because I don’t see you that way.”
My college roommate and I are chatting and I mention, in a neutral tone, that I am disabled. In the voice of someone finally expressing something that’s been bothering her, she says “I don’t know why you think of yourself that way. I don’t think of you that way.”
In the first example, my boyfriend’s mom uses “crippling,” (cripple (n.): a person who is partially or totally unable to use one or more limbs) as shorthand to say that her self-doubt prevents her from normal activities, or at least from the activities she’d prefer to take part in. When my boyfriend points out that this metaphor implies physical disability (such as mine) necessarily means abnormal, negative, or useless, she experiences discomfort. She relieves it by saying, “I don’t think of you that way,” preserving the abnormal, negative, or useless associations in her head with physical disability. Because she sees me as normal, useful, productive, I must not be disabled. The definition of disability shifts from a value-neutral description of physical or mental difference to a negative social role, in order to exclude me.
In the second example, my roommate does something similar. Although I don’t express sadness or anger when calling myself disabled, it makes her upset, and she pushes back. That’s because, rather than seeing disability as a value-neutral physical or mental difference, she sees it as a negative social role. In her mind, by self-identifying this way, I’m insulting myself.
The problem with both these lines of logic is twofold:
The definition of disability shifts at will in order to protect the nondisabled person’s perception of disability as a negative attribute.
Inclusion and exclusion into this social role shifts at will in order to protect the nondisabled person’s perception of disability as a negative attribute and attitude toward disabled people that they do “think of that way.”
If I’m not disabled, then I have no way to explain why I was told not to become a lifeguard, or why men routinely refuse to date me because my “arm is just too weird,” or why strangers approach me to tell me how great it is that I’m out living life. I lose out on putting a name to these negative experiences (which is a necessary part of healing from them and fighting back) in order to protect nondisabled people’s shifting definition of disability.
Worse still, if I’m not disabled, then disabled people are just the faceless, abnormal, negative, useless Other. If, as soon as a person because a valued figure in your life, they’re excluded from that group, it is far too easy to dehumanize, objectify, and disenfranchise that group.
*I wouldn’t trade that limitation of movement for the world, as it’s caused me to develop an interesting set of physical skills that nondisabled people lack along with character traits that are integral to my personality. But that’s for a different post.
“If, as soon as a person becomes a valued figure in your life, they’re excluded from that group, it is far too easy to dehumanize, objectify, and disenfranchise that group.”
Wow. Thank you for putting this into words so well. I’m going to use this.
Good description. “I don’t think of you as X” seems to function similarly in so many contexts, and it’s depressing.
And it occurs to me again that similar attitudes may well help explain the otherwise baffling figure that “nearly half (43%) of the British public say they do not know anyone who is disabled”. When it’s hard to see how that could even be possible, in reality.
There is also possibly the question of how closely do you need to know someone before even counting them when asked about it.
But, that kind of response (not to mention “just a third (33%)…said that they would feel comfortable talking to disabled
people”) would make a lot more sense if actual disabled people existing in front of them were getting excluded from this very negative stereotyped mental image of The Disabled.
But as some one who is fat and also disabled/chronically ill, maybe
don’t put so much damn power into “healthy = valuable and worthy of
love” because boy is this backfiring on some of us
Also there’s a lot of health conditions where weight gain is either a symptom or a side effect of medication. If your body erroneously decides “boy howdy time to lay in some major fat reserves b/c Winter Is Coming” trying to work or starve off the weight without figuring out how to convince your system that Winter Is Not, In Fact, Coming tends to be dangerous and counterproductive.
a culture fixated on sniffing out “fakers” to protect “real disabled people” inevitably harms every single disabled person within that culture & only maybe a relative handful of “fakers”, who are usually mentally ill or economically disadvantaged to the point of having no alternative. stop saying your skepticism is for my benefit. stop saying my oppression is for my benefit. yes the idea of people with no grasp of my struggle claiming it is infuriating & insulting beyond belief. yes that is also oppressive. but in practice, i’d rather a dozen able bodied people successfully pass themselves off as disabled than one disabled person die in poverty because they couldn’t “prove it” to an abled person’s content
setting aside the fact that People Die From This, just the impact of faker witchunting on the emotional wellbeing of disabled people is enough to make it inexcusable i’ve heard someone crying, literally sobbing & vomiting from pain frantically promise me that they’re not exaggerating when i never indicated for a moment that i disbelieved them, because they’re so used to the accusation. i’ve heard someone in the aftermath of a seizure quietly mumble as they regained lucidity, “are you sure i’m not faking?” i don’t know a single chronically ill person who hasn’t at one point or another seriously questioned if they were ever really that sick at all because we’ve been so brainwashed to challenge the validity of disability that we begin to doubt the reality of our own definitive lived experiences
How the fuck did you get that from what I said? I said institutions shouldn’t exist. I didn’t say there should be no constraints on people who hurt other people. Institutions cause more violence than they solve.
And mentally ill doesn’t mean likely to hurt people. Most people who hurt people are not mentally ill. Most people who are categorized as mentally ill don’t hurt people. (I’m using your words and concepts here, not mine, mind you.) The question of what to do about people who hurt people is entirely separate from the question of whether people with psychiatric disabilities belong in institutions.
Like… I’ve been in mental institutions, okay? I’ve been hurt by other patients but I’ve been hurt worse and more consistently by staff with no known mental illness diagnosis. The best institution staff I ever encountered was a psychiatric nurse with a diagnosis of bipolar. She was good because she treated us like human beings. She never had to use violence to stop us doing anything because none of us wanted to do anything to her and even those of us who got worked up would calm down when she talked to us because she fundamentally treated us like human beings.
Other crazy people have saved my life. I hope a crazy person saves your life one day. Maybe you’ll think differently about us.
Mind you, I’m not saying we’re all totally innocent people who would never hurt anyone. I’ve hurt people before. I’ve been hurt and gotten death threats from other people who’d probably be categorized as mentally ill. I’ve also been hurt and gotten death threats from people who are categorized as completely sane. I’ve had more sane people than crazy people hurt me. By your logic all sane people should be locked up, since they’re the source of most violence, both inside and outside of institutions. And most violence of institution is staff-on-patient, not patient-on-patient or patient-on-staff, although those two certainly happen. Worse, a lot of the violence is invisible to those committing it.
I’ve had wonderful fine upstanding sane heroic citizens try to kill me. As in, literally fucking try to kill me. In a mental institution. That kind of experience is the root of the violence problem I later developed. The violence in institutions is contagious. Being constantly on the bottom and stepped on can create in some people an unpredictable rage-violence that comes out at random times. It would happen to anyone in our position, not just crazy people, either. It develops in people in other kinds of institutions that are not specific to crazy people.
And that stereotype of mentally ill people as violent is exactly why they were able to try and kill me. It’s also why they were able to get away with beating the shit out of me until there were bruises on every part of my body – everywhere. And that was just the violence done to my body. It’s the violence done to my mind, heart, and soul that are much harder to take, and much harder to put a finger on and explain to people. And I doubt someone whose response to “institutions are terrible and shouldn’t exist” is “then crazy people will get out and kill everyone” would even understand that kind of violence or that it matters or that it can be the root cause of the stereotypical unpredictable violence supposedly found in so many crazy people (but actually found in few of us compared to the amount of violence found in people in general).
Because people saw me as crazy they jumped up and down on my hands in front of teachers and when asked to stop said “But she doesn’t feel it” because I couldn’t moe when they were doing it. It’s why my first-ever stay in a mental institution a guy was able to insert his foot up my butt and wiggle it around sexually in front of an entire room full of patients and staff and nobody did anything except later whisper to me that it happened because they thought I hadn’t noticed because I couldn’t move. (Being unable to move, in such contexts, is almost always thought psychiatric. It was actually an early sign of a progressive movement disorder I have to this day that was made worse by some of the meds they put me on.)
Like… I’ve had both sane and crazy people hurt me. I’ve had both sane and crazy people help me. People who hurt people need to be stopped. Systems that hurt people also need to be stopped. This goes no matter what category people do or don’t fall into. Institutions are systems that always hurt people on a level far deeper than you can probably imagine. They are not full of people who hurt people naturally. They are full of inmates and staff. Staff almost inevitably hurt inmates even without trying because the system forces them into that role. That’s why institutions are far more dangerous than what you’re talking about: They take people who would not ordinarily hurt people and force them into a power relationship that can’t easily avoid people getting hurt.
It’s interesting though when you talk about closing institutions. People – no matter what their stance on things in general – almost always think that you mean just instantly removing everyone from a building without changing anything else about the society you live in. Most people who want institutions closed are not talking about doing that.
So to be clear:
Closing institutions means finding ways to support disabled people without forcing us into a building with other people like us where we’re treated like non-persons and where the system forces an unnecessarily adversarial and sometimes physically violent relationship with the people who are supposed to be taking care of us. Most people in disability institutions are not there because they hurt or try to kill people. Those who are, will probably become more violent as a result of the institutions, and will definitely – like everyone else – experience a kind and level of violence that cuts much deeper than physical violence ever could.
I personally was never particularly violent until I’d experienced institutions, and was only able to stop being violent by staying away from them. And it’s other crazy people running around loose like me, who taught me how not to be violent and helped me heal from the violence I’d experienced. As i said, I hope a crazy person saves your life one day. Many crazy people have saved mine. And I don’t mean indirectly and figuratively, I mean without these people I would have died many times over.
At any rate, as I said, there is absolutely nothing done in institutions that can’t be done better without them. And that includes keeping people from being violent, although I honestly don’t think institutions do a very good job at that.
Also, if things were the way you want them to be, then I would in no way be protected from violence. Because I would still be locked up. And if crazy people are as violent as you say, and if we were all poised to kill people all the time, as if we’re nothing but violence-creating machines… that would mean if you lock us all up together, we’d be at more risk of violence from each other. I suppose you probably think that’s okay.
That’s one thing I learned from disability-segregated settings. We were all removed from being around nondisabled people for various reasons. Many times, the reasons were simply that they didn’t want to have to deal with us. Sometimes because we were loud. Sometimes because we were violent. Sometimes because we were “distracting” (read: did things that were unusual or unexpected, not necessarily violent). Sometimes because we had “too many needs”. Lots of things.
But fundamentally we were put there because other people refused to adapt to our presence near them.
But somehow, even though we were supposedly more limited in all areas including social ones. We were supposed to adapt to each other. And we mostly did.
It’s interesting how other people see us. They throw us out of where they are, thinking we’ll become someone else’s problem. They don’t care that we then have to deal with each other.
Which among other things means that people who get thrown out for doing things that harm other people, get thrown into the exact same places as people who are more vulnerable to harm or less able to tell anyone (or to be believed) if this harm happens. And there is little to no effort made to protect us from each other.
In special ed this meant there was a boy who hurt several girls sexually and none of us were allowed to warn anyone about him because “confidentiality”. And then it was our fault for being near him when he decided to do that to us. And it was basically seen as okay that we were hurt by him. He was removed from regular school for doing things like that. But when he did things like that to other special ed kids, there was nowhere to remove him to, and we had to adapt to his presence, we had no choice and nobody would help us when he did something.
Mind you I’m not saying there should’ve been another more restrictive place they should have put him, away from us.
I’m saying there’s something broken about the whole idea that we can be removed from regular classrooms for reasons that just come down to convenience so that regular people don’t have to deal with us. But then we have to deal with each other. It shows that nobody actually cares if we get hurt, and that the segregated disability system is not designed to stop people from getting hurt. The people within that system are simply not people and what happens to us doesn’t matter. So lock us all up together and let us get hurt by each other as much as possible and nobody gives a shit as long as we’re not hurting them.
That’s what’s broken about your idea, about the whole idea that institutions protect people. They sure as shit don’t protect the people inside them. And despite everything I’ve just said, the people we most need protecting from aren’t each other, it’s the people who work there. The sane people. The nondisabled people or disabled people who can pass as nondisabled to some extent. The people who, plugged into a violent system, will always to some degree become an automatic delivery system for violence that you can’t even imagine probably. And that violence automatically happens to people you don’t seem to give much of a shit about.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who guards the guards themselves? My favorite Latin saying.
Anyway. There has to be a better way to deal with violence than to put people into a system that is inevitably violent and that creates more violence than it stops. There has to be a better way to protect everyone from violence than to remove the violent people to a place where they can hurt people with impunity because the other people they are hurting, like them, have become nonpersons to society at large, and are also usually assumed to be violent whether we are or not.
(And apparently if you’re violent then you are a nonperson who it doesn’t matter what is done to you. But I’d think even if we’re all nonpersons to you you’d give a shit that the system makes us more violent, not less. I did not seriously hurt people until I’d been in institutions a few times. It took me years to unlearn the violence I learned there. I didn’t learn it from other inmates. I know someone who very non-coincidentally, almost did a school shooting immediately after being released from a psych ward. If they’d done it, people would’ve blamed mental illness. The psych ward stay was actually the final trigger that made them almost go through with it. This was before school shootings were a well-known thing. If they’d done it, the consequences in copycat crimes would’ve been like the consequences of Columbine. And the despair that drove them in that direction was triggered by witnessing and experiencing severe violence at the hands of those fine upstanding saintly sane citizens who just happened to be horribly violent, sometimes murderous, to the people under their “care”, but who were seen as saints for dealing with crazy people at all.)
Institutions have a weird habit of creating the problems people claim they solve.
People think mental institutions protect people from violence. They actually subject people to horrible violence, and do things in a way that makes even nonviolent people sometimes become violent, and violent people become more violent, as a result of what happens to them there.
People think nursing homes protect people from falls and dying and things. Disabled people in nursing homes die younger and faster than people with identical disabilities receiving the support to live outside.
People think mental institutions somehow make people less crazy. In many cases they make us more crazy or do nothing. One of my experiences of them was I was told they were the only place I could turn for help when suicidal. Suicide is sometimes a response to a feeling that you have no options and no hope. When the system was seen as my only hope, and presented as my only hope, then when I didn’t feel any better there, and actually felt worse, I lost hope and became more suicidal not less.
I know that sometimes institutions do what they’re supposed to do. But more often they do the opposite. And even when they do what they’re supposed to do, there’s always a way to get the benefits presumed to exist in institutions, without the whole power structure that makes an institution an institution.
They’re also supposed to save money. They generally don’t. Sometimes they do. Often they don’t. People need to be cautious throwing this fact around because it can suggest that if we really are more expensive outside of institutions (and sometimes we are) then we belong in institutions because of the “cost to society”. But nondisabled people have their needs (some of which are both very expensive and unique to people without certain disabilities) met without institutions for the most part, and so can we.
I currently live in my own apartment. I get services through a system that gives services to people with developmental disabilities. I qualify for admission to either a nursing home (institution for people with physical disabilities and chronic illness and old age related disabiliites) or an ICF-MR/ICF-DD (institution for people with developmental disabilities). I’m not in either one of those things because people before me fought for the rights of people like me, to live in our own homes and receive the support we need here. The support I need is pretty extensive.
I can do very little entirely on my own. I have complex medical needs, two feeding tubes (long story, but one’s for putting stuff in and the other is for taking stuff out), other medical implants and equipment, and a tendency to almost die in random ways that people barely figure out in time (my last ICU stay was almost exactly a year ago, I’d stopped breathing). Until a couple conditions were properly diagnosed and treated I was in a complicated motorized wheelchair that tilted you back on the rare occasions I wasn’t in a hospital bed. Throughout all this i’ve lived in my own home except for hospitalizations when very ill. Throughout all this I’ve had to fight for my right to live in my own home as people freaked out by my care requirements tried to persuade me and/or those around me to put me in a nursing home or group home or etc.
People who would normally be put in mental institutions deserve complex, appropriate support. Of a kind that rarely happens for us either inside or outside of such institutions.
People need to be stopped from being violent to other people.
The two groups of people referenced above are far from identical.
If you want to stop people from hurting or killing other people, creating an institution is the absolute last thing you should be doing. Institutions take people who would never hurt anyone and make them hurt people, sometimes without even realizing what they are doing, sometimes realized but rationalized to themselves in various ways. Institutions take people who normally would hurt people, and give them a mostly-blameless outlet for their violence. And I’m talking mostly about nondisabled people here – the people who work in institutions. If you want to save people from their violence the last thing you want to do is create a system that encourages and even mandates violence. That would be obvious if you cared as much about stopping violence as you did about locking up crazy people.
And it also causes inmates to be more likely to be violent, whether we were originally prone to violence or not. This hardly seems like a place for getting rid of violence.
I don’t know if you’ll listen to me, especially because I’m not giving you a lot of credit here. I can’t make myself after what I’ve seen and the mood I’m in right now. But maybe someone will read this and understand what I’m saying. Like, I don’t care that people disagree with me, I do care that you seem to sincerely believe that institutions stop violence. Or that you institutions would protect me (someone likely to be an inmate) from people you presume to be violent (other people likely to be inmates). When they haven’t and they don’t.
Like, I’m not some starry-eyed utopian optimist. I’m someone who’s seen the underbelly of a system I hope you never have to see the underbelly of. And who can’t turn off that knowledge just because some people assume crazy = violent.
And yes I can use the term crazy, for anyone offended by it. I prefer it to diagnostic terms or the idea that our minds are sick in the same way bodies get sick. Other people have their own preferences and that’s fine. This is mine. I can’t say mentally ill for long without feeling like a liar. Psychiatric disability is a term I sometimes use in mixed company to be polite or something but it doesn’t quite cover it for me. YMMV.
If you want a more coherent and organized view on this, try Critic of the Dawn. You’ve just basically brought out the ‘Bruce’ caricature she mentions and made it stand in for everyone in mental institutions (except staff, who are actually almost invariably more violent than inmates when taken as a whole).
Again, who guards the guards themselves? That’s the problem with institutions.
[ETA: I corrected the Latin spelling. I didn’t bank on autocorrect… It’s “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” Translated variously as “Who watches the watchmen?” “Who guards the guards themselves?” “Who watches the watchers?” etc. You can see the Latin root of English words such as custody, custodian, custodial, etc. And to the person who commended me on my patience, thank you, but I didn’t feel patient, i felt pissed. Because it’s one thing to disagree with my views on institutions, it’s another to act like I’ve seriously never thought through that question despite the amount of thought i’ve clearly put into it. And because that mentality that crazy people are dangerous is quite dangerous to crazy people and justifies some of the worst things that happen to us.]
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