By SUSAN ODGERS
I'm in a long line for the women's restroom at a large airport. I'm flying overseas.
Because I can't use the airplane bathroom for the eight-hour flight, I need to stay in line. I can barely think about how dehydrated I'll be when I arrive at my destination, due to chewing only ice chips.
Distracting myself, I look at the familiar signage outside of the bathrooms -- men's, women's and the international handicap-access symbol. Staring, I think male, wearing pants; female, wearing a dress; and wheelchair user? No pants, dress or gender. Asexual? Unisex? Suddenly, as if awakening from a deep sleep, I have an almost uncontrollable urge to culture-jam the sign by placing stickers (or Colorforms) of a skirt and high heels over the body of the wheelchair symbol.
I wear a skirt every day of my life. I own slacks and shorts, but I rarely wear them. I live in a world that doesn't easily recognize that women with disabilities are full women. I view my skirts as politically symbolic declarations that I am a woman. I have legs -- even if I don't use them to walk like other people.
Ironically, people often first stare at my feet and legs, thinking they hold the answer for why I use a wheelchair. I don't want to be covered up. I have a complete, sexual body. I am not "cut off" at the waist. Though I move through the world horizontally rather than vertically, I do move.
In my teens, at the onset of my stroke, I looked for any way to remain feminine and part of my woman peer group. I'd already felt rejected by the able-bodied world. I didn't know where I belonged. I entered the Ms. Wheelchair pageants, thinking that I would find my group. At first I was told I didn't look "disabled enough" by many of the women. I so longed to be one of these mermaids. As I matured, I learned that I had to take ownership of who I was and that I could navigate both worlds.
What is our culture saying to a woman with a disability when few store dressing rooms are accessible, towels/soap/dryers/personal hygiene products are out of reach in public bathrooms and mirrors are hung horizontally rather than vertically so we can't see our full selves? Even trash cans are now flip-opened by stepping on them. Where does that leave us?
I have often been told, "You're so stubbornly independent." This always comes from an able-bodied person. I wonder if most adult professional women would want to be helped and spoken to as if they're children. A wheelchair is not a stroller. I refuse to play any one of the many societal roles for women with disabilities -- "good little handicapper," "patient or sick person," "child," "telethon or charity recipient," "damsel in distress," "superwoman" or "heroine." I also refuse to dress as any of those roles.
I once wrote an article for a magazine for people with disabilities titled "Sex on Wheels." It was about some of the different men I met who wanted to date me for various reasons, whether to rescue me, to heal me, to control me, to include me in their sampling of "different" women, because I fit their fetish, etc. It was a humorous piece, not meant to categorize or stereotype any one person. What I was looking for and found in my husband was a partner who could see me for me.
My husband celebrates my entire body, including my legs. He likes to buy me beautiful tights/stockings because he wants to not only protect my legs but also to show that they're beautiful. He also knows that I wear a skirt because it's physically easier for me.
We often laugh that on our first date I transferred out of his car into my wheelchair, using my sliding board, and I slid right out of my skirt. How he handled that funny and awkward situation gave me the information I needed to continue dating him -- or not. He laughed, was matter-of-fact ("I think you left your skirt on the seat in the car."). I hadn't noticed. He asked how he could help. He was never smothering, punishing or lecherous.
I often think of women with disabilities as the proverbial "canaries in the mines." As young women, we are experiencing many of the things our able-bodied sisters won't fully experience until later in life. We have great wisdom to share with regard to altered body image, personal power, health, beauty and sexuality.
I am very concerned about the lives of women with disabilities everywhere. The consequences of not recognizing the "woman" part of a woman with a disability translates into higher rates of everything from poverty to domestic violence. On a societal level, the quality of our lives is in desperate need of improvement.
To know me, is to know why I wear a skirt.
Resources
-- Feminist Response in Disability Activism (FRIDA), www.ourfrida.org
-- www.childrensdisabilities.info
-- www.disabilityresources.org
-- YouTube is also a good resource, search on "Women with disabilities"
-- "Waist High in the World," by Nancy Mairs, Beacon Press, publshed in 1997, $16
Susan Odgers, a resident of Traverse City for the past 22 years, has used a wheelchair for 33 years. She is a faculty member at Northwestern Michigan College and Grand Valley State University. She can be reached via the Record-Eagle. For more Adapted in TC columns, see record-eagle.com/susanodgers.
