I have adapted this short story from an email I sent to a web forum. It is the every day tale of the type of treatment that disabled people face as they go about their life. I hope it is of some interest.
What I have for you is a true story, an incident that was in no way inspired by any single cogent thought, far less a desire to put right wrongs and to stand up for myself. But let me say very clearly that most of the time when confronted by situations that we find make us feel awkward we make a judgement call on our response. This judgement call may lead to several different outcomes most of which we would never have imagined, none of which though will be the perfect solution to dealing with the situation that we are trying to deal with.
Scene: My local bar, a dingy backwater place, which specialises in catering for the poorer drinkers from the large and notorious housing scheme that is just up the road from me. By cater I mean you can have what drink you like as long as it is of the cheapest and most mass produced variety, the decor match the choice in drinks, kids are banned but find gainful employment as bookies runners. Despite the lack of money they still feel the need to do specials in order to induce the punters to buy more of the cheap stuff, which they are only to happy so to do.
Jukebox blaring out some noise that I can’t hear properly due to the volume being way too high. Whilst on the big screen commentary of a live football game, again with the volume turned way up. Probably in order to drown out the jukebox, not the type of place to expect either one to be turned off in order to facilitate the enjoyment of the remaining media of entertainment. Anyone who would dare to suggest it would be lynched by one half of the bar, whilst the other half egged them on as a show of solidarity.
The lounge in which I am sitting has around 15 to 20 folk either in small groups or like me on their own. It is about 8.30 I have just got there after visiting a friends house. I have had about a third of the first pint that I have bought. I am sitting idly people watching and keeping track of the footie. From the bar in walk two of the regulars and a new guy.
All three have been drinking vodka and coke for the best part of three hours. The two I know are regular blokes, mid 30's, like a laugh, Sun readers, have never given me any particular hassle, but I have heard enough of from them to know that they are not politically correct, or that we would not see eye to eye on very much at all. The third guy though is massive, way over 6ft 5 (I am 5ft 5.) wider than a “B” class road and is perfect for those planning a ram raid but who cant be bothered stealing a JCB. He comes in and his very first action was to point directly at me and make a remark about a guy that they had all known. Big laughs from the three amigos and they sit down. No more than 10 foot away at the next table to me. The remark was not important as it was something to do with an "in" joke so I would not understand the context even if I had heard clearly what they said, which for reasons I have stated I did not.
The intent was clear though and that was it's derogatory nature. A one off, let it pass I'm there for a quite drink, I'm in a good mood and the big fella scares the crap out of me. Big fella though seems to be on a roll, after the three sit down and are distracted by drooling over the girls at the bar, conversation gets back to me. Oh joy! The big fella and one others are sitting opposite me but with their backs towards me, the third is sitting facing me but is hidden by a pillar.
Remarks and comments are traded in loud voices, mostly from the big guy and the one I cannot see. The big guy though is a caring soul who for the benefit of his friends and as a helpful guide to the rest of the bar as to who they are talking about, repeatedly points with his thumb over his shoulder, directly at me. I move so that at least his thumb will be pointing at open space. They drink more I decide to drink less. So what would you do? yep I probably should have done that as well. But I was pissed off. No real reason, ever since I was old enough to understand the spoken word I also had to get used to people saying unpleasant, cruel, and hurtful things about me. Did I say I had a physical disability, well I have and the genes that come with it, thought it would be nice if it was a disability that others could see, just to keep things nice an easy like. I also have mental health problems namely depression somewhat caused by the "extra" hoops that dealing with my disability has put me though.
By now the big fella has been doing his routine for 10 mins pausing only to drink. He has also realised I moved and has moved his chair so that he can start spearing me with his thumb again. Time to act, I decide although in acting I was following my normal pattern of making it up as I go along, rather than following a well rehearsed plan. I go to bar and buy another beer, I then find out what I can about the three all stars, including what they drink. I buy the big man a drink and ask the bar staff to take it to him after I sit down. Why did I do that? Well strange as it may seem I decided that I needed to point out to him that I the butt of his jokes was being a bit selfish and not really enjoying the cabaret. If I had another foot and a half on my height, several pounds lighter and 10 years younger, combined with several years of hard disciplined training in judo I just could of beat the shite out him, reality was though I had to talk to him.
Buying someone a drink has all manner of psychological advantages too many for here, but the one that is most important is that it confuses the hell out of the receiver and makes them uneasy. It worked the drink arrived and he shut up. The three of them went from very loud level to nearly normal conversation level. Instead of the thumb I got strange looks. But he did not come over. O.K. time to create the space for him to approach me in a neutral way. I go to juke box, hay presto he comes over. I love it when a plan comes together! He takes my hand in about three of his fingers and shakes it. He meant this to be a friendly gesture. I may post the pictures of the bruises to the back of my hand. He asked "why the drink?" I said, "You seem as if you think we may have met before" I said this looking at his chest; I looked up in to his eyes and saw that... I was wasting my time.
This guy was way, way, way past being drunk. It would have been more dangerous to even try and explain that what he thought about me, and the things he found funny about me, were absolutely none of my business. Free country, say and think what you like is my view. I would though prefer not to hear it however. so some discretion from him and his mates would be nice, as well as using his thumb lees frequently as I think every one knows they are talking about me by now.
This is what I wanted to say to him. Of course given the opportunity I would have begun to work on changing his views, my disability is actually his social construction of what I am like and can achieve etc. But no point as I have spoken to enough drunks to know a lost cause when I see one, the man could barely slurr never mind reason. Brave huh, or stupid maybe? Standing up for myself, the powerless fronting up to the powerful, and having the guts to lay it on the line. That might sound a bit strong, but their is more to the story.
I had got to the point that I had to say something, I had steeled myself to take action I had got myself to the point of no return, I looked round the two others were sitting there with an empty seat and I though "what the hell" I went over sat straight down and said all that I outlined above no more no less. Took 20 or so seconds, I finished I stood straight back up and went to my seat where I collapsed with fear and nerves. The big guy came back I swallowed half my pint hoping for some pain killing effect. He got up and went to the loo with the guy I could not see. The third guy perhaps the least offensive and certainly the least drunk got up came across and he was very, very, VERY angry. In my face and accusing me of...wait for it listening to his and his friend’s conversation!!
Much worse though and the thing I knew I was really gonna pay for was the bigger crime of showing him up in front of his friends, mates, and people he thought were below him in the food chain. This was the school bully slapping down an upstart; this was the jailer reeking revenge on the prisoner for complaining. This was life: just when you think you have beaten the odds and figured out the hard part the most simple and basic of truths sneaks up and kicks you in the goolies. In this case it was this guys right to look kewl and be thought of as one of the boys, a hard man, a somebody. The way other people saw him was more important to him, than my right to have feelings, or any thoughts that my feelings might be important. They were nothing, I was to accept my silence in silence. He was the king of the jungle and I was fair game.
At this moment I would have put money on getting a sever beating; the guy had thrown off one bar person who was trying to get him to sit and calm down. It was "fkng" this and that, as well as "don't you ever"... kinda stuff, and it was loud, not yelling but I could see folk were looking over at us. I was looking him in the eye an saying over and over again that all he had to do was not let me know he was slagging me off. And then....it was all over. Why, how I do not know. Was it my point of view getting in, or was it the bar manageress coming over, no Idea!
He was apologising for what they said and the fact that I heard it. So on some level my words got in, the ideas hmm not sure on that. Hands were shaken and away he went, I was left feeling sick with fright and also the very real feeling of dismay. I am no activist I do not get in peoples faces I hate confrontation I would not have said a thing if I had worked out that our exchange of feelings would have taken such an ugly turn. That is why I was dismayed, I was also dismayed about my motivation for doing something. I spent time over the past two days telling myself it was the drink, except it wasn’t. Or that it had all gone to plan, but it didn’t mainly as I had no plan.
Best of all I want to believe it did some good, you know the ripples in the pond type thing, planting seeds of ideas etc. Evan if the three amigos never get it I know that there were others there who knew what was going on, perhaps one of the spectators might get it, or at least entertain different ideas on "normality" and inclusion, but again the truth is I will never know. I wait for the "shaft of light" to appear out of the sky and turn all Hearts supporters in to loyal Hibs fans. Or the masses to stop as one in the streets and roads, renounce capitalism and start to give away their excess money, any sign at all that sensible people can take inboard a better way. However these Damascus type conversions are private and take place in peoples heads and hearts long before they act upon them. If I hope for anything it would be that some of the onlookers have started reflecting on their own views about society.
This incident and many others that I have had, show me that we never truly know the full extent of our actions. Making the choice to do or say something may seem to be the positive and "right" thing to do, then again doing the right thing can come with consequences like physical damage. More surprisingly is the possibility that we feel the opposite from how we imagine we will, in other words be prepared for the emotional fall out. It may surprise you that when you think you should be feeling great, master of all you survey. You are actually feeling more frightened and powerless, as well as less sure that you achieved the thing you set out to do.
The upside is that if we knew all the results of all our actions we would live in a dull boorish, sterile life. Worse than that we would choose safety over conviction and dishonesty about ourselves, over being proud of ourselves and who we are. It is a personal thing at the end of the day and I for one would blame no one for doing the opposite of me on that night in the pub.
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