When I was about 12-years-old, my auntie told me, “you will always need to carry ID around with you, because no one will ever believe you are an adult, when you’re out.” At the time I was so offended, all I ever dreamed of was being treated like a grown up.
To me, being an adult meant I would be the master of my own destiny – that is to say, the person who made the decisions around what affected my life, and especially my body (I was often the victim of the medical model of disability).
Well, now I am much older than 12 (I am actually 40), and although I am still almost the same height as I was as a pre-teen, I am now also an independent woman, with my own home, a loving partner, an active social life, and good career prospects.
Sadly though, although I still carry it with me at all times, it has been an exceptionally long time since I have been asked for my ID to verify that I am of age, so I guess I must now be able to pass for an adult. Right? Why then, am I still spoken to and treated like a child so often?
Once, I took an ex out to dinner at a posh restaurant for a celebration. When the waitperson came to take our order, I opted for something that also happened to be the most expensive thing on the menu (oops!). At this, the server asked my then boyfriend, “is she allowed Sir?”, doing themselves out of a tip in the process.
Actually, I should have given the tip just for taking my order from me, because this was one of the very few times it’s happened. More often than not, people choose to look right through me, to talk with whomever I am with. If they do speak to me directly, its usually in such a high pitch and slow pace, I assume they think I am a non-English speaking puppy. Otherwise, it’s in such a patronising tone that anyone would think they are auditioning for a gig on Play School.
This is annoying at the best of times, but it becomes downright offensive when the person we are dealing with is actually physically ‘working on’ me. I have had dentists tell my support person to “let me know if she’s in pain (which makes no sense),” and nail technicians ask, “what colour would you like for her?” which compels my companion to then ask me, often needing to lean over the person or shout across the room to do it. Even when I was the one who booked the appointment (and paid the bill).
But nothing compares to the randoms who want to show me how comfortable they are with my appearance or disability by sidling up to me and hugging me, patting me on the head or pinching my cheek as a gesture of congratulations. I once even had a lady try to tickle my tummy in a pub because “it’s just so cute that you’re here”. Unfortunately, though, I was unable to say the same about her.
It has taken me many years of work to get to the point where I can joke about incidents like these instead of crying, but truthfully, infantilisation can be harmful.
I can only speak for myself but, to me, a good rule of thumb is, treat me as you would any other adult and always assume I can, unless you actually know I can’t.
Respect my autonomy by speaking to me directly (with a normal tone and speed), trusting that I know the right answer for me, and keep your hands to yourself.
It’s not a lot to ask, it is my basic human right.
Nina writes her own blog Inner Musings of a Funny Looking Kid. She doesn’t receive any supports from Activ Foundation but has jumped on board with Activ to share her first-hand experiences of living with a disability and educate the public through her witty musings.
Look forward to quarterly catch-ups with Nina through Activ’s socials and website.