when kids are jealous of my sweet wheels
As a wheelchair-user working with young kids, one of the trickiest things about engaging non-disabled children in a disability-positive way is navigating the common response they have that they wish *they* could use a wheelchair too. A lot of disabled people I know find this annoying, which is totally understandable. (LOOK KID, don’t you know how frustrating it is to try and move through this absurdly inaccessible world on wheels?!). But I actually find it rather endearing, because it tells me is that this child finds me and my wheels approachable, interesting, and unintimidating - even that they want to be like me in some way. This can unfold in problematic ways, I want to unpack that more at some point in other posts. But I also think it is a unique opportunity to shape how people feel about disability.Â
In these moments, I feel a lot of pressure and tension in trying to stay positive about disability while also acknowledging that my wheelchair is a tool, not a toy, and that being disabled in an ableist world is not a walk in the park (literally nor figuratively). For me, it’s a top-priority to train non-disabled kids out of a pity-response or a feeling of negativity about disability, and *then* to give them a more nuanced and complex understanding of disability. Anyway this particular wheelchair-envy came up recently with a seven-year-old I work with and I’m always looking for ways to refine and improve my approach to these conversations. Here’s what I’m working on right now:Â
[I’m a part-time wheelchair user and I brought it to work on this particular day because I had a stress-fracture in one of my legs, and she’s sulking a bit that she doesn’t get to ride around in my chair, after I let her sit in it for a minute to feel it out]
- So you like my wheelchair?
- Yes, I wish *I* had one!
- Yeah I can see that! Why do you want to have a wheelchair?
- Because it seems really fun!Â
- Uh huh. What seems fun about it?
- It just seems fun to ride around on wheels.
- I agree, and I’m so glad that you can ride around on wheels when you ride your bike or scooter or rollerblades. I bet that’s really fun too!
- It’s not the same though.Â
- What’s different about it?
- I don’t know, you just don’t get to do it all the time.
- I think I see what you mean. Are you saying that things are really fun when they’re new and different?
- I agree! My wheelchair is fun to me sometimes, but it’s not new and different anymore because it’s just a normal part of how my body moves. I imagine that walking is probably not that exciting to you anymore because it’s a normal part of how *your* body moves. So if you used a wheelchair *all* the time, it might seem less fun because it’s a normal part of you. In fact, the world is not very accessible, which makes it hard to get around in a wheelchair sometimes, so that can even be the opposite of fun!Â
But even though you’re used to your body and it’s normal to you, I bet it still feels fun sometimes to run really fast or do somersaults, right? Those are things that my body doesn’t do. But it does feel fun to ride down hills on my wheelchair sometimes or glide around on a smooth floor. Wheelchairs *are* fun and cool, but it’s also good to remember that they are a tool, not a toy. For a wheelchair-user, their chair is a part of their body, and we already know how important it is to respect people’s bodies! Just like you wouldn’t sit on your friends arm or grab their legs while they’re trying to walk, you don’t want to sit on your friend’s wheelchair or push them around without asking. But you probably already know a lot of this, because you’re so great at being a respectful person and a good friend!
Like I said, my #disabledagenda is #1. No Pity and #2. Nuance. In my work with children it is also important to me to recognize that they soak up a lot of society’s isms without it being their fault. Kids, while often so much more open-minded and open-hearted than adults, do still absorb a lot of problematic attitudes toward other humans, often before adults even get a chance figure out how to address it. It happens so fast. But I want to be sensitive in my approach to this because kids pick up on adult discomfort *so* easily, and if they’re feeling shamed for asking questions, being curious, messing up before they can wrap their heads around the dynamics of what’s even going on, I’m worried they’re going to internalize that taboo and it’s gonna be harder to engage them on these things as adults.Â
I feel like I should reiterate that it is *not your job* as a wheelchair-user to think about this stuff or follow this script or write your own or educate non-disabled people or explain things to everyone. It is a lot of labor. But, recognizing that a lot of us are doing this labor anyway, I want to share how I am doing it in case it is helpful and *also* because I want to learn how to do it better.Â