See the Unseen

I've had a wonderfully rich morning. Rich, you ask? Well certainly not monetarily (unfortunately). But in terms of teaching me things I didn't know before, and giving me a new perspective. I went to a special tour of a new art exhibit hosted by the art museum I belong to, focused entirely on the fascinating photography of Bangladeshi artists. As a kid I learned that every time you learn something new, you get a wrinkle in your brain. My brain got very "wrinkly" this morning! Some of the photography was a bit disturbing. One image in particular has been featured in magazines, and it brought me very close to tears. I'm sure that's what the photographer hoped would happen! Because at the heart of it, photographs--even the heart-wrenching ones--just make us more aware of what we didn't know before, right? They illuminate a struggle, hardship, tragedy--or a miracle--we weren't aware of. That's what another series of pictures forced on me. The museum's brilliant director gave us a little inside insight about the context. She told us the house servants (of which almost every Bangladeshi home has one) are not allowed to sit on the furniture! So the two "couch sitting" photos were remarkable for their novelty within the society AND the artist's creative composition. This brought to mind the ramp built into many public buildings' outdoor entrances, for people with "wheels" like a walker or a wheelchair to access the door. Often these ramps are put in long after a building is built or put into business, as a lot of public facilities "pre-date" the time when people with a physical disability ventured out of their homes. If these ramps exist at all, they are way off to the side of the front entrance, or around a corner and through a door to an elevator. It's acutely offensive. In America today that is more focused on inclusion than any time I can remember, when EVERYONE (it seems) is "offended" by something or protesting for equal rights, pay, recognition or acceptance, where is the concern over treating the Disabled equally? Black lives matter, "blue" lives matter, enough is enough, me too..."broken" lives matter too. Just because we can't stand up straight or do ballet or (in some cases) even express ourselves physically the way others do does NOT invalidate our lives. Just because we haven't had a voice for so long does not mean we deserve to be ignored. And we deserve whatever other human beings have or want, because we are no different. I find myself reminded of the cause that originally spurred me to action--the right to marry without losing your Disability benefits. As long as the wedge of this one discrepancy is kept between us an the rest of society, we are "other." Therefore we don't deserve the same rights and privileges other Americans enjoy. We are expendable. Dictionary.com defines expendable thus: "...considered not worth keeping or maintaining." I feel this is much more accurate than "disposable," as expendable implies the FORMER use and maintenance of something. Or some one. Until it is expended. This is the mindset I've been quietly beating against my entire life, since the moment I was born disabled. I am not alone. I'm just the one with a blog who has a bit of a flare for writing, trying put a wrinkle in your brain.