When we see institutions in YA, we usually see them in one of two contexts: a “sane” person wrongly incarcerated in one, or a spooky (often old, sometimes abandoned but haunted by ghosts) asylum filled with “crazy people.”
What concerns me is that disabled characters are often integrated in the form of tokenism, meaning one token character that could be considered “different” is included in the plot. And even then, such characters are frequently depicted in stereotypical ways, despite being created by authors who may have the best of intentions.
Although the book was fun and interesting in places, the disability aspect was very much a freak-show presentation of disability and the disabled experience.
That’s the thing about disability, I think. You’re a normal person, you experience normal things, and then, every once in a while, you hit that wall. That reminder that you aren’t quite like the majority of your peers.
A lot of people only see the bad sides of Asperger’s. What they don’t see is that it can have its perks, too. My entire career as an author—which is a very fun one!—is entirely dependent on this condition.
To help authors make informed decisions about what language to use, we talk about disability terminology–from outdated words and cringe-worthy phrases to straight-up ableist slurs, and everything in between.
The most common wheelchair-using character has acquired paraplegia, but why is this particular narrative so prevalent, and at the expense of all others?