These magical or futuristic “fixes” seem rooted in a discomfort with disability: many writers cannot (or don’t want to) imagine a life without sight and therefore create excuses to give their character equivalent sighted experiences.
I wanted to write about a real girl with real emotions struggling in a world that too often is unforgiving to those who don’t fit the right mold.
When it comes to writing, we have to be willing to examine, with suspicion, our own character creation and world-building.
After second grade, I stopped reading most books unless they were assigned for class. Even then, I often didn’t read them. The reason being, when I read a sentence, I often didn’t understand it. Somewhere between my eyes seeing the words and my brain, the phrase disappeared into the ether.
The most common wheelchair-using character has acquired paraplegia, but why is this particular narrative so prevalent, and at the expense of all others?
The world does its best to remove our autism from the mainstream narrative of life, hiding either it or us whenever possible. In the world of fiction, we often see these same attempts.
July has officially come to an end, and with it, the blog’s daily post schedule.
Being autistic and also belonging to another minority might be one marginalization too many to sell children’s fiction informed by one’s own experience to a mainstream press, and that is a very sad thought.
When characters with disabilities are portrayed as inspirational or overcoming obstacles just for living their daily lives, it sends a message that a life with a disability is a burden. What message does that send to young people?
We’re looking to expand the Disability in Kidlit team, as the website has grown in popularity in recent months and we’re working on exciting new projects.