Have you heard I’m the Queen of Disabled Children? That’s right, I was wheeling to the car after a friend’s party at the weekend; blissfully unaware of my royal title when Gertrude (for the purposes of the blog) smiled at me. Of course, I smiled back because, without wanting to sound old fashioned, I think society has forgotten how to interact on the most basic level.
As I got to the car, Gertrude approached from across the street. “Excuse me, love”, she said, “I’d like to donate this to the disabled children”. At this point, I found myself mildly speechless simply because it took me a second to figure out what she was insinuating. My friend, who has a brain that works far quicker than mine, very tentatively explained to her that neither one of us belonged to a charity. Not satisfied with the answer, Gertrude repeated herself and added that she was disabled too.
This was kinda heart-warming because she obviously saw a connection between us and wanted to reach out to a fellow disabled person. However, it’s crazy how many people assume the word “disabled” is a metaphor for “clone” Just because we both have something wrong with us doesn’t make us one of the same. Once again, disability does not mean we are an alien race. Just because we have one tenuous thing in common does not mean I’m going to have the same hideous taste in ornaments that you do.
Anyway, Gertrude then turned to me and said, “I really want to help the disabled children and make them happy”. Albeit a hugely condescending statement, I think making people happy is all any of us, or at least the decent folk among us, ever want to do. That said, as a nation, we shouldn’t feel the need to help people because they’re in a minority. Firstly, disability is becoming less of a minority as time goes on, and secondly, there are so many minority groups that they’re all slowly merging into the majority which makes the concept null and void. But the thought was there, even if what she was giving me was a vile looking thing.
“Would you like it, love? It’s for you and the other disabled children”. I honestly didn’t have the guts to tell Gertrude that her donation was futile on the grounds that I wasn’t a charity nor was I a child, so I thanked her and put it in the car. We drove off as fast as we could.
It wasn’t until I uploaded an abbreviated version of this story to Facebook, that someone pointed out the ornament is depicting a hunt. Take from that what you will, but I’m now a tad concerned that Gertrude is subliminally telling me she wants to cull all disabled children. On one hand, that’s okay because I’m not a child, but my friend has since crowned me Queen of Disabled Children, so I guess it’s my duty to protect all disabled children across the land. It’s a very complex dilemma!