The Tall and Short of It: Appearances

Anyone who has a visible disability. Anyone who is different---taller. Fatter. Missing a limb. Using a wheelchair. Has eyes that are two different colors. Wears clothing that differs from the norm. Anyone, in short, who attracts attention. We all know it.

I was perusing an interesting post on the blog, Feministing. http://feministing.com/archives/006185.html

It was written by a tall woman. Taller, in fact, than many men. And one paticular paragraph caught my eye

"I've come to realize that I can learn a lot about people I meet by how they react to my height. Lately, having just moved to a new place, this has been happening a lot. Most of them will wait until the second or third time we've hung out to casually insert into conversation, "So.... how tall are you exactly?" This is a question I realize probably occurred to this person within the first few minutes of our meeting, and the time elapsed until they ask it aloud is the time it took them to feel comfortable around me."

Anyone is slightly unusual or different recognizes this situation. You're causally chatting with a stranger, in line, or you both just happened to be surveying the grocery store's array of pickles, and they started to talk. Then, comes the moment. Their voice becomes just slightly apologetic or embaressed, and their eyes flick from your face to the pickles, and back again. And then they ask,

"So...why do...what happened...how did...I hope you don't mind but I wondered....is it hard to X when you're Y?"

Or:

"I knew someone like you once, and they..."

Sometimes I don't care. But more and more, I just get this tight clenching in my stomach, and I want to get my pickles and abandon them in mid-sentence. The realization that this whole time, they were just working up the courage to ask you a question, a question that you've probably answered dozens, or even hundreds of times before. You realize that, to this person, no matter how polite or kind, you are reduced to your missing hand or your wheelchair. Your clothing. They noticed that you were different, and that was all.

You glibly answer the question---the answer has been rehearsed and acted out so many times that you can get it under a minute by now. You try to be soothing. Underlying your words, a slight panic, and reassuring messages.

Don't be afraid of me.

I'm not that different.

Really, I'm just like you.

If you succeed, they relax, you chat for a minute or two more, you get your pickles, and you leave. But sounding in your mind again is that eternal message: you're different, you're different, and that scares me. You're different, and I'm unsure if you're really quite human like the rest of us.

Some people never manage to work up the courage, and they stare at you from around a corner, or from the corner of their eyes. Sometimes, your eyes meet, and they stare blankly for a moment, startled. Then they jerk away, quickly assuming a causal, I wasn't staring at you face.

Some people translate their fear into mockery, or rudeness. I was in the mall, and a boy, passing with his buddies, called out, "Hey Amish!" I was surprised enough that I didn't say anything; either about his jerkiness or his improper grammar. I am not Amish. The Amish don't deserve to have their name used as an insult.

Another time, a college age guy felt that it was appropriate to, as I was sitting, obviously reading in a Barnes and Noble, call out "Amish?" Next time, I might just yell back, "Stupid?"

You're torn. You don't want to be a jerk. You don't want to be rude. But a natural defensiveness developes. You remain cautious when you begin to speak, wondering if they just want to satisfy their curiosity. If the inevitable question will be asked once more.

This has made me very aware---and wary---of judging or asking anyone about their differences. I don't want to be one of the faceless people who feel it is their right to single you out for your difference---to ask, to interupt, to sidle up in a friendly manner until your question has been worked up to, and answered.

I have a face. I have a name.

And so does every different person in this universe.

Know it, and think before you speak.