It’s the last day of godfather week. I’m looking forward to enjoying the last evening out on the town with the sponsor gang, before I start the last semester of my master’s. The dance floor is packed. People are sweating and dancing into each other. I stand in the middle of the dance floor among my friends. A young woman in an electric wheelchair. In the middle of the rush of joy and the party, the mood changes. Drunk people I don’t know gather around me. They want to dance with me, and start pulling my hands. They probably think they are saving me, that they are making my day the best day ever on the dance floor. Because, after all, they make me want to be fat and dance. I have spasms and my hands are often stiff when I dance. I stand out from the norm. I express as clearly as I can, without being rude, that I do not want to dance. My hands are part of the functional diversity, and I use them to maneuver the wheelchair with the joystick. When they pull my hands, I am also deprived of the opportunity to get out of the situation. They just want me to have fun. But I’m not having fun. I get scared and shake my head frantically. Clearly signals that this is not something I want. But they continue. Suddenly I feel like I’ve become the biggest attraction on the dance floor. A circus animal that people think they can fool around with. Many stroke my hair and cheek. I don’t have the count of how many people drag me by the hands without my consent. Several people tell me that I am so good at studying. I’d rather just leave. Get me away. But the dance floor is packed and I can’t get hold of the joystick on the wheelchair, because there are more people holding my hands. Fortunately, I get help both from the sponsor group, the assistant and my girlfriend. We move to the floor above. There is more room to frolic. But the prejudice does not stop. People have become so intoxicated, and the prejudices seep to the surface. The sponsor group and I dance in a circle. I control the dancing myself with the joystick and have fun. But there are still people who come over and tell me how good I am, and that it’s very good that “people like me” are out on the town. That kind of statement is commonplace in the city, but because of the corona I had almost forgotten what it’s like. The feeling I’m left with after leaving is mixed. It is filled with euphoria and gratitude, but also fear, and a feeling of being treated like a rag doll. Such incidents probably come from people thinking that I, as a wheelchair user, cannot have as much fun as everyone else. People have prejudices that we who are disabled live passive, boring and sad lives, from which they must come to the rescue and rescue us. But what I really needed saving from was their interference on the dance floor. I understand that it is probably not malicious, but the actions are nevertheless an expression of a lack of knowledge about disabled people. But if people’s attitudes are to improve through increased knowledge, where should the knowledge come from? From kindergarten onwards, we should all have learned that people are people, regardless of functional ability. But disabled people are treated as differences and special cases from an early age. Those who grow up with us learn to treat us accordingly. It is important that you who read this understand that my experience on the dance floor is only a grain of sand in a desert of discrimination. Far too many disabled people receive neither relevant schooling, education nor work. If you don’t meet disabled people at university or in the workplace, and don’t learn to see us as equals, why should it be any different on the dance floor? Visibility and normalization are important. My arms are part of the great diversity of functions, and it is important to show that variation is part of the normal, to avoid such unpleasant incidents in the future. The next time you meet me in town, I would like to chat and dance with you, but then it must be with my consent. I would rather avoid being treated like a rag doll on the dance floor. Also read:
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The rag doll on the dance floor – Expression
