Hi there everyone!

Just a little blog, not too long, not too short, but dealing with an important topic nonetheless; ableism.

And I started this blog two months ago. It’s almost completely done! Why didn’t I publish? Who knows!

Ableism can mean a handful of things, basically it occurs when non-disabled people act superior to those who are disabled. Yah, that’s it…

But, importantly, I should clarify; that is my definition, and just a fragment of it. Every person with disabilities has their own mantra their own understanding of the issues. Ableism is individualized as eye-colour, fingerprints, coffee preferences.

However, ableism is not on trial here… the comical situation that unfolded months ago is…

You all know I use my power chair often, for outings, shopping, appointments, et al…

Maybe you don’t know, I will often get out of the CJ-3, using my wobbly legs to get to a better seat or stall or examine something on a high shelf.

This “change of pace” is usually greeted with astonishment, followed almost instantaneously with acceptance, or, if I am keeling over like a rag doll picking up a brick, with helping hands!

There are often, I am banking on it, gasps, followed by verbal communications: “Are you okay?” “Hey you!” “Did you want that jug of milk?” “Are you related to Stephen Hawkins?” et al… However, I usually don’t even respond, I’m DeafBlind, and cannot hear, nor can I see a mouth forming words.

It is the expressions, and body language, that really draw my attention.

And so… There was an old lady, greyish hair, wearing horn-rimmed glasses circa 1956, colourful cardigan; who stood mere feet away from me, mouth open, arms akimbo. The expression was funny, and obvious; she was obviously berating me for my apparent falsehood as I sat down in CJ-3, having walked from the wall of merchandise to CJ-3, the aisle was cramped and overcrowded!

That look, hands of hip, was priceless! It said: “How dare you use that wheelchair when you can walk just fine!”

Or perhaps she was convoying: “How dare you, you are a grown man, those Hot Wheels are for boys! Act your <bleep> age!”

Whatever she meant, I didn’t stick around to clarify or defend myself; I gave her a goofy grin as I buckled my seatbelt, then a wave as I rolled off to another part of the store.

I didn’t need to explain myself, not to a lady stuck in the 50s who probably doesn’t have a social media account and probably has rotary dial phone.

Anyways, thank you for reading, liking, donating!