Arnie and the New Kid

I have so much affection for Arnie and the New Kid by Nancy Carlson, who wrote a ton of books for kids about anthropomorphic animals. I wrote about this on tumblr but I just want to write about it again because it ties into what I've written about disabled queerness. Also, it's incredibly cute.

Arnie is a non-disabled cat who is quick to make fun of Phillip, a dog who uses a wheelchair. (I loved writing this sentence.) One day, Arnie is shambling around pretending to be Phillip, holding his arms up to his chest or whatever in an attempt to look disabled, and instead of getting an Oscar or an Academy Award like if he was a human, he falls down the stairs and injures his leg, wrist, and tail. Cut to Arnie wearing an adorable brace on his tail, using crutches, and needing much more help with things than Phillip ever did.

Like Harry Potter, Phillip has the social grace of a saint and befriends Arnie even though Arnie was a dick to him. Arnie and Phillip start spending all their time together doing the things Phillip likes to do--like playing video games, trading baseball cards, and birdwatching. (I especially love the page that shows them in a theater, watching a horror movie through their paws.) Of course, Arnie recovers from his injuries and goes to play baseball, which was one of the things he originally bullied Phillip for not being able to do. Phillip is worried that their friendship is over, but then Arnie says that Phillip will come along and be the coach.

I've read a review criticizing this book for exactly the reason I like it: Phillip is a loser who needs Arnie's help to be included socially. Well, Phillip is not a loser in my estimation, but he isn't so incredibly cool that he can overcome the stigma of disability, especially when Arnie is constantly drawing attention to everything Phillip can't do. What accounts for this failure of character? PHILLIP IS AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL KID. Not every kid can go into a new school and have everyone be staring at them and bullying them, and deal with that competently and make a lot of friends.

Phillip is just an ordinary, nerdy kid--and by Arnie's standards, he really is a loser. He takes longer to eat, can't race, and can't play baseball. Basically, Phillip is slow, which dooms him not to be taken seriously by many of the kids.

But then, when Arnie is injured, we learn that Phillip has all these other interests and abilities that don't relate to whether he can walk or perform complex tasks with his hands. Arnie has a great time when he's temporarily disabled, and this, I think, is what keeps Arnie and the New Kid from being a book about charity or pity. Arnie doesn't think, "Wow, being disabled is awful, I should be nicer to Phillip." He learns that Phillip is actually a fun person and a good friend. He learns that his conception of what makes someone a loser was wrong.

When Arnie asks Phillip to be his coach, yes, he is making an effort to include him and maybe Arnie's actions will be the key to Phillip's social success. But Arnie makes the effort because he's grateful to Phillip and likes spending time with him, not because it's the nice thing to do. Arnie's decision is ultimately not about his own good qualities, but Phillip's.

I actually feel really frustrated by the idea that it's offensive to portray a disabled character needing help or being socially isolated. Phillip is not portrayed as weak or unpleasant at all; he's just up against a lot of ableism which, being a child, he can't handle all by himself. If Phillip was some kind of amazing superdog who could play baseball in his wheelchair and advocate for himself to be included in the games and be such an all-around badass that no one even noticed he was disabled, that would be an incredibly unfair image to show to kids. Most disabled kids cannot be that and shouldn't be made to feel that that is what they have to be in order to succeed. Non-disabled kids shouldn't be told that instead of adjusting their ideas of what you can do with a friend, or what qualities make someone cool, they can just wait for a supercrip who forces his way into their world and adjusts to their standards. Because they will be waiting a long time and, while they wait, some of them will be bullying ordinary disabled kids.

I'm thinking of making a series of posts about disability-related children's books, which would hopefully involve a lot of DISCUSSION! I'm wondering if anyone else read this book and what they thought of it. Obviously I am not a wheelchair user so I may have missed something really egregious. (One problem I have with the book is that Phillip obviously needs an aide and doesn't have one, so the nicer kids are always doing stuff for him. Really, really not a good message to send.)



Image description: cover of the book Arnie and the New Kid. On the left side of the picture, Phillip, a yellow dog wearing a t-shirt and jeans, sits in a wheelchair. On the right side, Arnie, a gray cat wearing glasses, black pants, and a shirt with mice on it, is standing and holding some books. Arnie is practically looming over Phillip with a mean look on his face, and Phillip looks scared.

my crush on NOAH's person-first language page

I'm writing a very long post about person-first language and the fact that, although I prefer it, I think it's pretty annoying when people (usually non-disabled people) go around demanding that other people use it as though it's some kind of immediate key to respecting people with disabilities. In my opinion, all the arguments people use to try to prove that person-first language is inherently more accurate and respectful just end up making them sound like assholes. If I am really a "person first and a disability second," what does that mean? Does that mean people are supposed to be looking at a version of me where all the disabled parts of me have been scooped out and are floating along somewhere behind me? How are people supposed to relate to me when I have huge chunks missing? What kind of pressure does this put on me to avoid showing the parts of me that somehow aren't supposed to be part of my "personhood," and are supposed to be things I can detach?

I totally love person-first language and use it all the time while NOT feeling that it in any way should be taken literally when interacting with disabled people. This is why I have such immense love for the What Do You Call Me? page on the National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation website. While it has a few instances of "person first and albinism second," the bulk of the page is devoted to talking about the pop culture image of an "albino," the way the word may be used to bully people, and, most importantly, what actual people with albinism feel about the word. Not surprisingly, opinions are mixed--some people see it as neutral, some people "reclaim" it, and some people feel uncomfortable or hurt when it is applied to them. After some discussion, the page arrives at this sort-of-conclusion:

To most in the albinism community, the term “person with albinism” will always be a kinder, gentler, less shocking term. Regardless of the context, the word “albino” can sometimes be an ugly, jolting word to many, especially when heard unexpectedly.

So, basically, it sounds better and doesn't call up a bunch of stereotypes. THANK YOU NOAH. It isn't necessary to imply that disability is some gross thing that has to be ignored, just to make the point that you shouldn't run around calling people a word that has a lot of stigma because it might make them feel bad.

For me, person-first language is about how things sound and feelings and implications; it's not right in any objective way, because that would be ridiculous.

religion, queerness, disability, background, and consent

I was at my college's queer/faith group today and felt kind of bad because I said something like, "I'm not from a religious background and I came to God through being queer so it's really weird for me when people see gay + Christian and imagine that I have some sort of conflict or that this has caused trauma for me." (Or even imagine that I realized those things in the opposite order from when I actually did.)

This seems really privileged as if I think that the reason people see gay + Christian and associate that with a really terrible set of experiences is just some anti-religion bias. I mean, the people who've said this to me are atheists so I do feel a little bit like they're stereotyping Christianity and religion in general and failing to understand that at its core there's nothing that would inherently be my enemy as a queer person. And I kind of like expressing how much that isn't my experience because my type of experience is so rarely expressed.

At the same time, it's a very rare experience. I grew up with liberal atheist parents and I go to a college that is primarily liberal atheist--that is a tremendous privilege for a gay person. So for me to be like, "Yeah, God and I are buddies, why wouldn't we be?" is kind of a dick move. It's actually kind of like the way I feel about queer people who have overcome certain things, that I can't overcome as easily due to being disabled, and act like all queer people can overcome those things.

I know a lot of people's experience is one of religion being forced on them. But mine is one of being expected not to be religious and even feeling uncomfortable as a religious person in the spaces I tend to be in, and once having someone compare the fact that I believe in God to unusual stuff I do that's related to my disability. Which is really not cool.

This also applies to disability. My disability has been (cognitively and emotionally) a huge barrier to my ability to participate in things like church--largely because church is unfamiliar. So I'm very jealous of my liberal atheist and otherwise non-Christian* friends who had a sort of upbringing where they were brought to church, confirmed, etc., and the fact that they went away from that wasn't such a big deal to their families but it was just kind of how they did things as they were growing up. Because that structure would have been really important and my life would be totally different if I'd had it. I'm really lucky that my dad is as supportive as he is or I would never have (finally) been baptized and would have even less experience going to church than I do.

*(not that atheist=non-Christian but I'm thinking of people who are agnostic or "spiritual but not religious"--not people who have converted to another religion or heavily identify as anything.)

When I was a kid I had a babysitter who was Catholic and would pray with me when she put me to bed, against my parents' wishes. I'm extremely grateful for this because it gave me familiarity with prayer and the knowledge that it was an option. I still pray the way she taught me, every night. But I know what most atheists, and even many Christians, would think of her decision. And I don't know how to reconcile that with my gratitude.

I'm looking for a job next year and I'm interested in a particular facility for kids and teenagers with disabilities, which is Christian. It would be really wonderful for me to work in an environment that's Christian and I do relate being staff to being Christian (I don't mean this the way it probably sounds, but it's a huge other thing to talk about--it has nothing to do with me being better than the people I serve). But I feel creeped out also because, while they write on their website that the people they serve have a choice about being Christian or going to church, religious education, etc., they use the word "encourage."

In my experience, some people with disabilities have been taught to be compliant to the extent that if you "encourage" them to do something, or even ask them if they want to do something, they perceive it as an order.

I mean, I also have known people--and actually, this doesn't just mean more severely disabled people who I've been staff for, this also includes me, and maybe this includes me more than anything in terms of religion--who have a very hard time saying they want to do something, asking to do something, even saying "yes." My camper Stephen from this summer would say no to everything, including things he had previously shown he liked; after bringing up the subject again and again, you might be able to find out whether he really didn't want to. Sometimes this didn't work and you had to put him in a position where he had to make an effort to opt out, instead of to opt in--this was generally how you found out for sure what he really wanted.

I'm not saying this in terms of the facility, because that word encourage really does bother me and I'm not applying there until I can figure out what it means. But when it comes to religion, I am a great deal like Stephen. Which is very confusing for me and which, I'm afraid, often results in me saying things that ignore the very nonconsensual and/or negative history that a lot of people from my communities have with religion.

thinking more about "updating" the wheelchair symbol

re: this

I think that because it’s primarily used to indicate stuff like extra space, shorter distances, and seating, it isn’t as vital that it be inclusive of mind disabilities. To my knowledge the people who are most hurt by the current symbol (in terms of the attitudes it promotes) are people who need those things, but don’t use mobility aids, who can for example be pressured to stand up and give the “disabled seats” to someone else. I remember there being a few posts on FWD/Forward by contributors with fatigue, pain, and mobility disabilities who have experienced this. Obviously this is challenging to fix because it’s hard to make a picture that immediately communicates CFS/ME or something like that. And I also think that because the current symbol is so familiar, changing it to something like the open door would create a lot of problems.

So I think that the best symbol would be something like this (except done by someone who can actually draw):



This is much cheesier than the cool-looking person pushing their wheelchair, but I think it could work because it:

1. keeps the original symbol that people are familiar with, so they know immediately that it’s a “disabled access” sign (sorry the wheelchair user looks so weird, I was trying to point their hand so they could be reaching for their joystick but they just ended up looking depressed)

2. shows a person with pain in their back and leg, which brings in the idea of people who don’t use mobility aids and reminds the viewer that such people might also be among those who need the seats, parking spots, etc.

3. shows people with different kinds of impairments to remind the viewer that there is more than one disability that would cause someone to need these things, and hopefully suggest that there are even more disabilities than the ones portrayed here

#3 might be expecting too much of people, but even if people look at someone in the disabled seats and think “oh, I don’t see any mobility aids, they must have a bad knee,” that would still improve how that person is treated.

thoughts?

thought about speaking up

sometimes it feels like it would be inappropriate to speak up. I basically live on the Skins lj community right now--actually can't remember if that's what I'm thinking about in particular, but just general fandom/pop culture forums. People use the r-word or just talk about disability in a way I don't like. I think of how I don't like it--should I say something? I end up thinking, that would be weird, this is just a casual pop culture environment, I don't really know any of these people.
But the Skins fandom is heavily queer--I don't hesitate to speak up when I think something is heterosexist/homophobic or even cissexist/transphobic.
This is because I know someone will write a comment under mine saying "+1," "iawtc," "this." Whereas if I say something about ableism, it may just be awkward. Someone may be annoyed or just not say anything.
It's okay to make this decision to avoid awkwardness. I have that right. But I've noticed how instead of just thinking, "I don't want to say this because of the reaction," I actually think, "Oh don't be so serious"--but really, I feel perfectly fine being serious about things I know it's safe to be serious about.

roommate is cute, slash I think some of this is useful

me: I don't know
I just think my life is a lot better since I stopped thinking of myself as being "socially impaired" or whatever
Liam: yeah
i mean its just a word
me: like, sometimes I make a joke that someone doesn't get or something, maybe it's because I'm different, but it's an interaction between the two of us, maybe we don't fit
Liam: yeah for sure
me: like, I used to just feel really embarrassed like every time i made a joke someone didn't get or something
like "oh it's my autism making me say stupid things"
Liam: i mean i find it way easier to hang out with you than a lot of other people
me: but I just think that's dumb and I feel like other people can think "that person didn't get my sense of humor" and they don't have to take it personally
dude I don't know do you find me to be like "simple" or "dense"? it's okay if you do
I just wondered
Liam: no
i think you are really smart
maybe child-like
i mean you get a lot more excited about things than most people
i think you also just approach things in general a little differently
but in a good way
me: I mean, that's cool
I don't mind being different. I just used to always mind the idea that I like...was supposed to be unaware of what was going on because of my disability
Liam: i mean thats totally not fair
everyone sees things a little differently
i mean i cant see red and green
me: aww
Liam: i think everyone is different and its easy to compare yourself to other people
i mean i always feel like im really slow
me: well I think I'm going to come to the library so I can type up my writing project
Liam: and bad at writing
me: it's easier to prop my notebook up on a desktop
Liam: cool
we are in a study room
me: oh
where?
wait are there desktops?
I guess I won't see you
:(

ding ding ding, ding, ding ding

I'm thinking of writing some Skins recaps because a)there seem to be no recaps of gen 1, which is a heartbreak, b)there aren't that many sites recapping gen 3 because two of the three sites that recapped gen 2 are lesbian sites, c)no one who recaps Skins writes about disability very well, which is frustrating because d)there are a few really good portrayals, and a lot more that are worth discussing.

I don't know when I will do this and I'll probably just write on whichever episodes I feel like writing about. I'm also not sure whether I should do the recaps here or on Bad Brains Wearing Clothes (Zoe is that legit? At all?).

Some thoughts: (SPOILERS)

1. JJ/Emily isn't offensive to me as a lesbian. Should it be offensive to me as an Autistic person?
2. 1x02=awesome. But what are Cassie's food issues like after this? Do they immediately go away or are there signs of them still being around later?
3. 2x09: "I stopped eating and everyone had to do what I said. It was the happiest time of my life." Is this a)a retcon by the writers, b)a retcon by Cassie, c)actually supported by series 1?
4. Why 4x06 sucks both because of the series arc, and because it unnecessarily brings in disability issues and then doesn't address them properly.
5. Did Sketch turn evil because she has to OMG physically support her mom?
6. Does Cassie actually change dramatically, or did we just read her wrong because of her scripts?
7. What would have been a better way to introduce and portray Effy's bad brains?
8. True or false: if someone can't get an erection, you can't have sex or a relationship with them.
9. Overprotective parents and their relationship to real or imaginary disabilities--Cadie, JJ, and Pandora. Also, what is lost in the transition from Cassie to Cadie.
10. Terrible doctors and their relationship to real or imaginary disabilities--Cassie, Cadie, JJ, and Effy.
11. Why is Mini so awesome?
12. Josh. (I'm referring to both the character, and the only person who will probably read these recaps.)

PS--I'm actually thinking I may do this in the summer. We'll see.