The state considers me to be disabled to the point of needing a permanent handicapped placard. Before I retired (I am not on disability) my state workplace made physical accommodations in my work area (raising desk and chairs so I could stand or sit as needed) and I used a cane to get around.
I do not call myself disabled. I have just slowed down a lot as I aged and there are things I can’t do anymore and I have to remember to make small accommodations in my daily life i.e. buying 20 pound bags of critter food instead of 40 pound bags.
However, before I retired I worked in a food stamp office and let me tell you, my idea of being disabled is very different than many of the clients’ ideas of being disabled. I wasn’t really supposed to ask what sort of disability the person had, but they loved to tell me all about their issues. They weren’t on disability, didn’t have handicapped placards, couldn’t get a doctor to say that they were disabled but by gawd, they certainly couldn’t be expected to work because of how bad off they were.
I worked in supported living services for disabled people, and “disabled” meant a lot of things. A whole lot.
I was “temporarily disabled” once, albeit, I never called myself disabled.
When I was a full-time interpreter, I paid for private disability insurance. It was a little like AFLAC that you see advertised, but also with short-term paycheck benefits.
When I got carpal tunnel syndrome, and had to quit interpreting, I drew on the insurance while I was being treated, and then looking for another job-- about 10 weeks of full checks, and another 3 weeks of partial checks. My new job I got (the supported living agency) had very good benefits, and I didn’t need the private insurance anymore, so I dropped it.
During the time I was drawing on it, I told people I “was on short-term disability,” and was happy to explain more fully to anyone who was interested. I didn’t feel disabled like someone with a spinal cord injury, but having to quit the job I loved was a pretty big blow, and a major life change.
Still, once I was treated for the CTS, I could still have ASL conversations. I can’t interpret, but I still can do things like tutor at the School for the Deaf, and just hang out with my Deaf friends.
Part of what I called myself had to do with not wanting to define myself as disabled, but it also had to do with having known people with real disabilities-- Deaf-blind people, people with severe CP. I wasn’t in that class at all.
Can’t provide for themselves financially
Can’t take care of their own biological needs
Can’t live independently
Can’t ambulate well (at least with physical disability)
Can’t maintain consistent responsibilities (like full time work or parenting) due to health limitations
Not all disabled people have all of those, but I assume most disabled people have at least one.
This is going to sound absolutely horrible, but the first thing that comes to my mind these days when I hear “I’m disabled” is “Can’t even!”, in the current parlance. As in, I think a large portion of the population has just given up. Not sure how this may fit in with Dinsdale’s question.
This. And as someone with, at times, serious mental health limitations, I do not automatically assume physical disability. I wouldn’t describe myself as disabled and I don’t receive benefits, but as a student I was considered disabled and allowed to take a reduced course load while still being considered full time. It took me six years to complete undergrad. At work I have requested unpaid medical leave due to PTSD* which is an ADA covered condition. I work part time and sometimes I seriously question whether I could hold down a full time job. But the problem is intermittent. I’m okay most of the time. But every once in a while my life just gets totally derailed.
*I was pregnant and couldn’t take my psych meds without horking them up, which resulted in a mental health crisis. I took three weeks of leave to get my stuff in order and hopefully get through the worst of the first trimester.
I remember a postal worker who had use of one arm and who dragged one leg when he walked. He worked like a dog, showing the world that he could keep up and he always had a smile.
But I know some game the system too. You have to allow for a disability not being obvious enough to see, of course. I was wondering the other day about that golfer that sued the PGA so he could ride in a golf cart rather than walking the course. Googling…
In October 2019, while attempting to retrieve a garbage can from the street he lived on, he misjudged a step between the street, which was under construction, and his curb, breaking his defective leg.
Unfortunately, he may lose his leg…the condition apparently interferes with proper healing.
Given the context, I would presume that, if the poster had wanted to explain how she was disabled, she would have, so I would not ask.
I would also not actually assume that she found those things impossible or even all that difficult–just that it’s difficult enough that using voice commands is more convenient. Even just being in a wheelchair could be enough for that, IMHO.
And that essentially shows my answer to the OP: how I interpreted “I’m disabled” entirely depends on context.
(That said, I can say that I don’t immediately assume a wheelchair. It actually took me a few seconds to think of that.)
The range of responses makes me wonder what reaction folk using the term intend/expect.
Also, I’m a tad surprised that no “disabled” folk or their advocates/sympathisers, or current language usage mavens have checked in to say how it OUGHT to be used/interpreted.
Not a big deal at all. Just something I encounter frequently and find mildly curious.
I was a shop steward in my local union in 1973 and I had to file a grievance for someone who learned that having received payment for a finger in one accident and losing the entire hand in a subsequent accident that they deducted the payout he’d already received for the finger because; as you see; “we already paid for that one”. The court ruled in favor of the company, they had indeed already paid for that one.
Indeed. I think it’s telling that people use such a vague term. If someone is blind or deaf or has MS, they just say they’re blind or deaf or have MS - they don’t just say they’re disabled.
Of course, most reasonable people understand that they may need to accommodate someone who can’t see or can’t hear or can’t walk. Would they be so understanding about needing to accommodate the 21st century version of neurasthenia?
My husband has X-linked hypophosotemia. There’s no point in telling people he has that, they don’t know what it is. Nor is there much point in telling them he has “vitamin D resistant rickets”, the more common name, because even if they have a vague idea what that means, they don’t know how it manifests itself (and, indeed, that varies a lot from patient to patient).
It’s much easier to just say “he’s disabled and can’t stand for long”. And if someone wants to second guess how long he can stand or exactly how much it does hurt, because they suspect he’s shirking. . . Well, fuck them. I guess he’s lucky because he’s visibly disfigured enough that most people don’t question it, if they’ve seen him.
I would guess that this is why a lot of people with disabilities, or who ‘are disabled,’ aren’t going to chime in here: they have too many real-life experiences where all they got was judgment (or worse), and no real effort to engage and understand.
Depending on who’s saying it and the context, I confess I sometimes tend to be skeptical. I won’t necessarily say anything, but I may judge, silently. Unfortunately, I’ve known my share of fakers - mainly people who latch on to “disabled” when they really should be saying “lazy.” I’ve also gotten phone calls from “charities” that played the “help the disabled” card - a little research showed they were scams. So my cynicism has a real-life basis.
I am fully aware there are disabilities that aren’t obvious - I had an aunt with a heart condition and problems with her feet that severely limited how far she could walk, but if you saw her getting out of a car in a handicapped spot, you’d suspect she was using someone else’s placard. And I know it’s none of my business and not my place to determine who does and does not have a disability. I will take a person at their word unless it’s proven to be a lie.
I’m just answering the question of what do I think when I hear “I’m disabled.”
“Don’t judge me” or “Sorry, just not able to do it”. Perhaps you are right, it doesn’t occur to me to talk to people about judging me, but maybe this is a normal kind of thing to do, and maybe people shouldn’t be so judge-y either
I do understand there are types of legal ‘disability’ that bother people because they think it’s gaming the system. Probably more than people ‘gaming’ the system are people who simply take advantage of holes in the system. But the vast majority of all people who are disabled according to the state are going to have a legitimate disability. If people want to use their own definition of disabled they can, but if it isn’t generally aligned with the requirements for state defined disability I don’t know how they would expect me to understand what they mean.
You see, of course, that “can’t stand long” makes considerable difference?
My personal thought (which many likely disagree with or criticize) is that I am very eager to acknowledge and accommodate a somewhat specific statement such as that. Whereas a general self description as disabled strikes me as a general plea for - um - indulgence/preferential treatment, which might vary depending on the situation and the “disabled” person’s needs and wants.