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.
All too often, portrayals of disability in literature mirror the common assumption that disability signifies helplessness.
It’s September, which means we’re back! While the August break was lovely (and so very refreshing), we could not be more…
July has officially come to an end, and with it, the blog’s daily post schedule.
A brief list of recommendations our contributors put together.
In my experience, the disabled sibling in fiction exists purely to make the main character’s life more “difficult,” more “sympathetic.” Oh, that poor dear, the writers want you to think,
According to pop culture, mentally ill people are magically more creative, filled with a manic drive to create art that pushes them to the brink until they finally explode.
Did you know in the US it’s illegal to drive within six months after having a seizure? Even under supervision, even just around the block, I wasn’t trusted behind a wheel.
Predictably, many of the tropes relating to D/deaf and hard of hearing characters deal with communication methods and degree of hearing loss. Most, if not all, of these tropes have to do with people’s assumptions and wishful thinking about hearing loss.
Ever seen the Allstate commercial? “I’m a random windstorm. Shaky, shaky.” Well, sometimes that’s how life feels when you’re a kid with disabilities. Because I’m both very random and my life can be, well, pretty shaky.