{"id":3286,"date":"2016-03-27T09:00:30","date_gmt":"2016-03-27T13:00:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/?p=3286"},"modified":"2020-12-08T09:23:49","modified_gmt":"2020-12-08T09:23:49","slug":"not-engaging-with-disability-convenient-approaches-in-sff","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/2016\/03\/27\/not-engaging-with-disability-convenient-approaches-in-sff\/","title":{"rendered":"(Not) Engaging with Disability: Convenient Approaches in SFF"},"content":{"rendered":"

In speculative fiction, by the very definition of the genre, you\u2019re dealing with magic, technology, or other elements that aren\u2019t present in our world. This opens up tons of story possibilities for authors.<\/p>\n

It can also close off opportunities. For example, if you want to include disabled characters without using magic workarounds, it\u2019s occasionally difficult to realistically integrate them into your world. After all, if your characters are incredibly skilled magicians, is it realistic that they wouldn\u2019t try to minimize or heal their disability? If you\u2019re working with warp portals and faster-than-light travel, wouldn\u2019t that world also have prostheses that are nigh indistinguishable from natural limbs, and far more effective medications around the board? Magic and technology will absolutely mean different approaches to disability, ranging from hyper-advanced tools to creative uses of magic to medical\/magical cures. We want to acknowledge and integrate this reality into the narrative. Sometimes, though, books may use SF\/F elements to circumvent dealing with the drawbacks of disability entirely. When you’re a disabled reader, that can sting: it’s like you’ll only be allowed to participate in exciting sci-fi adventures as long as you’re not too much trouble.<\/p>\n

We\u2019d like to talk about approaches to disabled characters in SF\/F that don\u2019t handwave or erase the reality of disability. No matter the setting, there are ways to tackle this.<\/p>\n

We\u2019re not trying to tell anybody how to write their book. We’ve simply often heard that it wouldn’t be realistic for disabled characters to stay disabled in SF\/F stories, which we don’t agree with. We’d like to share our thoughts; hopefully these will be helpful.<\/p>\n

First, let\u2019s give a few examples of ways we\u2019ve seen these workarounds in fiction. (We have a lot<\/em> of examples, so we recommend skimming or skipping the next five paragraphs if you\u2019re already familiar with this trope.)<\/p>\n

\"Daredevil\"In Elsa Sjunneson-Henry\u2019s article \u201cOvercompensating: Magical Erasure of Blindness in SFF<\/a>,\u201d she listed several examples specifically regarding blindness: Toph from Avatar: The Last Airbender<\/em>, whose earthbending power lets her detect her surroundings by feeling the vibrations in the ground; Mad-Eye Moody from Harry Potter<\/a>, whose missing eye is replaced by a magical one that can even see through solid objects; Flicker from Zeroes<\/a><\/em>, who can look through other people\u2019s eyes; Daredevil, whose superpowered senses detect a nigh-perfect image of his surroundings; and Moritz from Because You\u2019ll Never Meet Me<\/a><\/em>, whose ability to echolocate is so advanced that he can count people\u2019s eyelashes.<\/p>\n

There are also other examples in young adult lit. Iggy from the Maximum Ride series<\/a>\u00a0is blind but his other senses are enhanced, and he can even feel color, to the point of being able to identify printed images in magazines. Po from Graceling<\/em> and Bitterblue<\/em> is a particularly interesting case<\/a>, as Kody Keplinger discussed earlier this week. In The Scorpion Rules<\/em><\/a>, a character with albinism receives eye implants.<\/p>\n

Stepping away from kidlit, there\u2019s Irene Adler from the X-Men comics, who is blind but whose precognition allows her to see even nanoseconds into the future, effectively making her sighted. (A character in Witches Abroad<\/a><\/em> uses a similar trick.) Meanwhile, Doctor Mid-Nite and Doctor Midnight from DC Comics are both blind, but can see in perfect darkness, and have a visor that allows them to see during the day as well \u2014 a third version of this character can see via ultrasonic\/infrared vision. Another DC Comics character, Adam Strange, lost his sight and managed to connect his ship\u2019s sensor array to his visual cortex, which allowed him sight as long as he was piloting. And of course, everybody knows Star Trek\u2019s Geordi LaForge, who wears a visor that enables sight.<\/p>\n

\"Cover<\/a>\t\n\t
\n\t\t\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\tBUY ON BOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t\tBOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t& support independent bookstores\n\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t<\/article> \n\n\t<\/center><\/div>And that\u2019s just blind characters! Other disabilities are often approached similarly, though. In kidlit, there\u2019s Young Knights of the Round Table<\/a><\/em>, in which the wheelchair user gains a magical device that allows her wheelchair to navigate otherwise impossible terrain. In Akata Witch<\/a><\/em>, the main character \u2014 who has albinism \u2014 is no longer sensitive to sunlight once her magic awakens. In Dangerous<\/a><\/em>, the character goes through three hyper-advanced arm prostheses in a very short span of time, while in Harry Potter, Peter Pettigrew loses a hand and receives a magical, super-strong prosthetic hand as a replacement.<\/p>\n

Stepping away from kidlit again, we have characters like Professor Xavier from X-Men, who used a floating wheelchair in the cartoon, and who used medication that temporarily enabled him to walk in the recent films. Meanwhile, in the X-Men comics, Hellion lost both his hands but uses telekinesis to control artificial hands. Barbara Gordon in the Birds of Prey<\/em> TV series used an electronic device to allow her to temporarily walk in one episode. In Heroes<\/em>, the character Emma is deaf and has the ability to see sound as bright waves of light, and in The Legend of Korra<\/em>, a character who\u2019s born without arms can waterbend water into arm tendrils, which allow her to do pretty much everything, including drive a car.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s telling that we just listed over five hundred words of examples, and we could easily keep going. Note that we\u2019re not<\/em> criticizing the above titles; they\u2019re simply examples to establish context for this article. This trope can range from \u201clogical worldbuilding\u201d to \u201ckind of a cop-out\u201d to \u201cgroan-worthy magical cure,\u201d and not everyone agrees on which is which.<\/p>\n

For the two of us, a lot comes down to these three related elements:<\/p>\n

    \n
  1. how convenient<\/strong> the workaround is<\/li>\n
  2. how realistic<\/strong> the workaround is<\/li>\n
  3. how thoughtfully<\/strong> it\u2019s approached<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

    In terms of convenience<\/strong>:<\/p>\n

    \"Cover<\/a>\t\n\t
    \n\t\t\n\t\t\t
    \n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\tBUY ON BOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t\tBOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t& support independent bookstores\n\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t<\/article> \n\n\t<\/center><\/div>We brought up some of this in the discussion on magical disabilities<\/a> earlier this week. It can feel awfully convenient when a disabled character just happens<\/em> to have a unique supernatural or magical power that effectively negates their disability. (There are equivalent overly convenient situations with technology, but they\u2019re not as common as with superpowers\/abilities.) As a reader \u2014 especially as a disabled reader \u2014 it often grates to see a power seemingly chosen purely to dodge the practical difficulties of writing and integrating a character\u2019s disability. Especially since many, many SF\/F disabled characters fall into that trap.<\/p>\n

    The second element, how realistic<\/strong> the workaround is, is sort of intertwined with the above.<\/p>\n

    If a futuristic world has technology that\u2019s only slightly more advanced than ours, high-tech devices that minimize disability may feel like a stretch \u2014 which is often both unrealistic and convenient. (Hence the overlap.)<\/p>\n

    A lack of realism can also come from shallowly thought-out applications of SF\/F workarounds. For example: if a character is autistic and someone magics or sciences away the autism, leaving the character neurotypical, how a writer approaches this aftermath can make a huge difference. If the character instantly adapts and acts just like a neurotypical person might, and isn\u2019t remotely frightened, intimidated, or confused, doesn\u2019t have any new skills to learn, and has zero identity crisis whatsoever \u2026 To us, that doesn\u2019t feel realistic. That feels like a cop-out.<\/p>\n

    Our contributor Holly Scott-Gardner pointed out how this works in terms of straight-forward cures<\/a>: a character who\u2019s born blind may gain the ability to see, but there is an awful lot they\u2019d have to learn after that. Ignoring the transition process and jumping straight to \u201cfixed now!\u201d seems like a cheap shortcut.<\/p>\n

    In other words, if you have a workaround that\u2019s either unlikely for your world, or is technically excusable but feels like a stretch \u2014 and if either of those situations ignore logical\/likely side effects \u2014 it\u2019s likely to feel unrealistic. That, in turn, can make the approach feel too easy and unsatisfying.<\/p>\n

    The final element, how thoughtfully<\/strong> the workaround is approached, is again related to the above.<\/p>\n

    Think of currently existing assistive tools. Even something as common and relatively mild like an aspirin can have side effects. Stronger medications, like antidepressants, anticonvulsants, or painkillers, often have downsides that can range anywhere from mild to severe. Glasses enable perfect vision for many people, but they require upkeep and are often impractical. Contact lenses seem like a good alternative, but not everyone can tolerate them, they\u2019re much more expensive than glasses, are more work to use, and can easily get lost. A wheelchair is an amazing device that enables tons of people to navigate independently, but many places aren\u2019t accessible to wheelchair users, and they\u2019re again expensive and require upkeep.<\/p>\n

    In other words, nothing is perfect. Even the most common and effective assistive devices\/tools have side effects, malfunctions, complications, or aren\u2019t universally accessible for any number of reasons.<\/p>\n

    But in fiction, magical or science-fictional assistive tech often is<\/em> infallible and widely available. It\u2019s easy for authors to assume that the likely presence<\/em> of SFF workarounds in their world necessarily means those workarounds (a) should\/would appear in their characters\u2019 lives, and (b) operate perfectly and consistently. These assumptions and simple dichotomy of \u201cthis exists\/doesn\u2019t exist\u201d often lead to a less-than-thoughtful portrayal.<\/p>\n

    That describes the three main problems we see.<\/p>\n

    So how might you avoid<\/em> these problems? <\/strong><\/p>\n

    Let\u2019s tackle \u201ccharacter abilities\u201d first, as these are common in both sci-fi and fantasy.<\/p>\n

    When you\u2019re talking about unique superpowers<\/strong>, it\u2019s relatively easy to avoid the trope altogether. Just use a power that doesn\u2019t relate to the disability in any way. Bam, a flying Deaf person! A blind person with pyrokinesis! An autistic person with superstrength! A technopath with epilepsy! The possibilities are endless, and we\u2019d love to see more disabled characters integrated into these narratives and treated as full parts of the cast, without needing to minimize their disability before they get to play.<\/p>\n

    \"Cover<\/a>\t\n\t
    \n\t\t\n\t\t\t
    \n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\tBUY ON BOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t\tBOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t& support independent bookstores\n\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t<\/article> \n\n\t<\/center><\/div>Honestly, as far as we\u2019re concerned, this particular version of the trope is overdone and likely to always feel convenient. That said, our contributor Randi Oomens made an interesting observation<\/a> about the character of Flicker from Zeroes<\/em>: \u201c[Flicker] still had to rely on sighted people since she looked through their eyes. She was still blind when she was alone, and she did use her cane for O&M which I found very accurate. She even complains in her mind at one point when the tip gets stuck in a crack.\u201d<\/p>\n

    If<\/em> you\u2019re going to use abilities like these, please consider such logical downsides and limitations, and engage with them honestly rather than seeking workarounds. Toph is a good example of this. Daredevil is not; for example, his sense of touch is so acute that he can even read printed books by feeling the ink on the page, which feels like an easy way to avoid the few limitations he might otherwise have. In her review of Graceling<\/em> and Bitterblue<\/em><\/a>, Kody Keplinger described several intriguing limitations and weaknesses author Kristin Cashore introduced to the character of Po after realizing she used this trope in the first book.<\/p>\n

    When you\u2019re talking about supernatural abilities<\/strong> that aren\u2019t so obviously connected to disability and can be more broadly applied, it gets trickier.<\/p>\n

    After all, telekinesis doesn\u2019t directly relate to paraplegia, muscle weakness, chronic fatigue, chronically painful feet, etc. but it sure as heck would come in handy! Telepathy doesn\u2019t directly relate to blindness, but depending on the strength and type of telepathy, characters might gain a mental map of the room by sensing people\u2019s presence, or use the ability to look through others\u2019 eyes. And wouldn\u2019t teleportation be handy for someone with agoraphobia or brittle bones?<\/p>\n

    The fact is, many supernatural abilities will likely mitigate the disabled character\u2019s limitations in some<\/em> way. As far as we\u2019re concerned, that\u2019s not necessarily a problem \u2014 especially if these powers aren\u2019t restricted to the disabled person, but other, non-disabled characters have the same abilities. It actually opens up interesting opportunities to show how disabled people might use this magic in different and innovative ways. The key here is to look at the magic as an assistive tool<\/em>, and not a fix<\/em>.<\/p>\n

    Your telekinetic wheelchair user with paraplegia, for instance, might be technically able to use their power to move their legs and \u201cwalk,\u201d but it could be exhausting enough that they peter out within ten minutes. \u201cWalking\u201d could require intense concentration, to the point where they might not be able to hold a conversation or direct their attention elsewhere for even a moment. The movements could look and feel awkward, making the character self-conscious. (Or maybe they can\u2019t do it in the first place because their telekinesis isn\u2019t strong or refined enough!)<\/p>\n

    Taking into account those considerations, the power feels like something that could be useful in specific situations, but not all. (Just like a tool!) Why bother walking to the store if you can just use your wheelchair? Save your energy and free up your mind to do other things.<\/p>\n

    Moreover, think of the applications telekinesis could offer beyond walking. (For many wheelchair users, walking really isn\u2019t the priority ambulatory people might expect.) The character might use their power to pick up objects on the floor or high shelves; open heavy doors; flick on out-of-reach light switches; heft their chair up a few stairs; or more. And even then, using their power could be tiring or require so much concentration it\u2019s not always worth the effort.<\/p>\n

    What about even less specific powers \u2014 say, that of a witch or magician \u2014 which might be able to straight-up cure characters<\/strong>? Well, maybe that magic still has limitations and can only heal recent injuries, not ones that are already healed over, let alone congenital differences. Maybe the magician can\u2019t outright cure the character because it requires more finesse than they have, or their magic is only temporary, or because they would need extensive medical knowledge to apply the magic correctly.<\/p>\n

    Let\u2019s switch to sci-fi specifically. Often, these worlds feature highly advanced technology or medical treatments<\/strong>. Once again, focus on the realistic limitations that would accompany these workarounds.<\/p>\n

    \"Furiosa<\/a><\/p>\n

    Let\u2019s say your world has advanced robotic prostheses<\/strong>. They would likely require continuous upkeep. Would they malfunction in certain conditions? What sort of natural wear and tear would occur? Maybe controlling the prosthesis requires purposeful concentration, or causes a strange or unpleasant sensation. It could be a hassle to put on and take off. Perhaps sensation is limited, or fine motor skills are lacking. And consider that amputees in our world rarely wear their prostheses full-time; when might the character choose not<\/em> to wear theirs, or be unable to?<\/p>\n

    Consider, too, the broader societal effects of the prosthesis. How does it affect the character\u2019s relationship to their disability and their identity? How do others respond to or act around your character? What do they assume about your character because of the prosthesis? Is the prosthesis visible, and if so, would the character cover it up or not care? Thinking beyond the physical will help immensely.<\/p>\n

    Medical treatments or surgeries<\/strong> can be approached similarly. Factor in the cost, availability, and access. But also consider the risks. For instance, perhaps your character has the opportunity for a surgery that can cure paraplegia. What are the dangers, should something go wrong? Death? Further loss of function(s)? Chronic pain? Maybe it doesn\u2019t always work and the character would have wasted their money. Or maybe the surgery isn\u2019t a cure, but just a procedure to tackle a specific problem.<\/p>\n

    In both cases, even if the surgery goes well, consider the aftermath. The recovery process, its duration and pain levels. Long-term, intensive physical therapy. The emotional transition. Would they struggle to adapt?<\/p>\n

    Futuristic medication<\/strong> is again much the same. Maybe it’s expensive, experimental or rare. Maybe it has awful side effects, or interacts badly with other medications or disabilities. Maybe it keeps the character dependent on a dystopian government for refills, when they\u2019re trying to stay under the radar, and the black-market knockoffs aren\u2019t worth the risk. Maybe \u2014 just like the surgery! \u2014 medication isn’t a complete fix to begin with, but only minimizes one or two symptoms, or prevents an existing condition from progressing further. “Better” doesn’t mean “flawless.”<\/p>\n

    While we\u2019re discussing realistic ways that magic or technology might (or might not) affect disability, also look at the other way around. How could disability affect magic or technology?<\/strong> If a potion is finished brewing when it turns bright blue, but the witch in question is blind, she\u2019ll need to figure out alternative approaches. If your character can manipulate ice but they have arthritis and cold makes their joints hurt, well, they might need to be very particular about how and when they apply their powers. And if your character uses a heavy prosthetic arm but also has chronic fatigue or muscle weakness, it could be a daily toss-up between the practicality of having two arms, or needing to conserve their energy.<\/p>\n

    It\u2019s also important to consider that, instead of finding common limitations to the tools or treatments that exist in your world, you might not even need<\/em> to. What if your character doesn\u2019t use these options in the first place?<\/p>\n

    There are many reasons a workaround might not be accessible to your character.<\/strong> They might be incredibly expensive, or only available through specific providers. They might be rare, difficult to locate, or so brand-new it\u2019s not even something they\u2019ve considered. And on and on.<\/p>\n

    Think about reasons your character might choose<\/em> not to adopt assistive tech, undergo a medical procedure, turn to magic as a cure, etc.<\/strong> Let\u2019s look at a scientific cure as an example. Even if it\u2019s completely accessible and safe, many disabled people would reject a cure. Perhaps your character views their disability as intrinsically tied to their identity, and a \u201ccure\u201d would fundamentally (and negatively) change their very being. Maybe they don’t see their disability as negative, so why bother? Maybe they\u2019re taking some sort of political or personal stand, because the treatment is only available to certain<\/em> people, or because the method of its creation was wildly unethical. Maybe they\u2019re worried about the slippery slope to eugenics. Maybe they\u2019d lose critical benefits or income if they’re no longer disabled. Maybe they simply aren\u2019t interested, or they have higher priorities to deal with first. Maybe there\u2019s a huge stigma, like with painkillers or mobility scooters in our culture. Or maybe the procedure is against the character\u2019s religion.<\/p>\n

    In short, just because it\u2019s there doesn\u2019t mean the character has to use it. Think of laser eye surgery in our world, and the millions and millions of people who decide to stick with glasses and contacts anyway.<\/p>\n

    Even if a world has “fixed” certain disabilities, there can always be the occasional complicated exception to the rule.<\/strong> Seemingly identical disabilities often have different roots, symptoms, and subtypes, and even identical disabilities can have other complicating factors; it’s unlikely for a one-size-fits-all approach to work. Also consider that SF\/F worlds may introduce brand-new disabilities or variants of existing ones<\/a>, which can be fascinating when they’re\u00a0thoughtfully explored and the narrative doesn\u2019t ignore real-life disabilities.<\/p>\n

    We\u2019ve touched on non-physical effects of disability<\/strong> a couple of times, and want to reiterate this. Magic or technology may not erase the emotional, social, mental, relational, historical, etc. components of disability. Consider social stigma, (internalized) ableism, stereotypes, visibility, and more. The disability experience goes far beyond the conditions themselves. Presenting a holistic view of disability will go a long way toward avoiding \u2014 even subverting \u2014 the trope of the overly convenient shortcut.<\/p>\n

    All that said, we\u2019re honestly not asking authors to avoid these situations entirely. We don’t purely want to pile doom and gloom onto the characters and keep them from enjoying the benefits of rapidly evolving technology! Why should we? This trope often makes logical sense.<\/strong> Disabled people are nothing if not resourceful about finding and utilizing assistive tools, and these tools will only become more advanced and convenient as time goes by. New tech? Magic? If these are accessible to the character, the odds are good they’d have at least considered making use of them.<\/p>\n

    In fact, in some situations it would be strange if they don’t<\/strong>. Characters like wealthy politicians, princesses, and futuristic crime lords will likely have access to top-notch care. If they’re disabled and sit sadly to the side while the rest of the cast goes out on adventures … as readers, we would want a good reason why they don’t get a better wheelchair \/ adaptive saddle \/ prosthetic foot. Without that, it can feel like the character is robbed of agency and kept artificially sidelined.<\/p>\n

    It\u2019s all about balance.<\/p>\n

    Finally, we\u2019d like to point out that everything we\u2019ve discussed is simply good worldbuilding.<\/strong> It\u2019s often the details that flesh out a world.<\/p>\n

    If all of this sounds like a lot of work to write, consider that \u201ca lot of work\u201d is the daily reality for many disabled people.<\/strong> It\u2019s precisely those considerations that will make the character feel realistic and relatable to disabled readers. It\u2019s not like suffering is mandatory for it to count as disability, but the approaches we\u2019ve been discussing don\u2019t have to be anything more than practical inconveniences, daily irritations, or a simple fact of the character\u2019s life that they don\u2019t even notice anymore.<\/p>\n

    When authors don\u2019t honestly acknowledge and engage with that, and resort to workarounds to avoid dealing with the disability entirely, you end up with a host of \u2014 sometimes painful \u2014 tropes.<\/p>\n

    We know this lack of acknowledgment or engagement is rarely intentional. Authors have ingested this trope just as often as anyone else. It makes sense that they might subconsciously default to it and then move on with the rest of the story. We\u2019re simply asking people to question that first instinct and think outside those defaults instead of writing yet another evasion of meaningful engagement with disability. Speculative elements are opportunities, not shortcuts.<\/p>\n

    The main takeaway is this: think broadly, deeply, and intentionally about how you write disability. Work with<\/em> it, not around<\/em> it.<\/strong> If you understand the tropes and the current reality of disability, you\u2019ll be well on your way to creating a respectful portrayal, no matter the setting.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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