Heroes are Silent

Heba are delighted to welcome Emily Morley-Davies, a guest author to our blog, to share her views on perceptions of disabled life and representation, as a member of the disabled community.

One could discuss many equally important disability subjects, in this article. I will begin by expressing that while we’ll never know what every reader has been through, my personal situation gives me insight into some struggles the disabled community faces. Internalised ableism is under-discussed, although experienced by many disabled individuals. According to the National Library of Medicine, internalised ableism ‘materialises in numerous, psychological, social and physical consequences’, including ‘anxiety, depression, isolation, feelings of inferiority, powerlessness and negative body image’. The study reported loss of empathy for one’s self, and internal rage. Other emotional consequences include ‘shame, frustration, misery’, with a link between internalised ableism and suicidal thoughts in disabled individuals.

The Center for Disability Rights, defines ableism as ‘beliefs or practices [devaluing] people with physical, intellectual, or psychiatric disabilities’ which assume ‘that disabled people need to be fixed’. Internalised ableism’s definition is ‘discrimination against oneself… rooted in the view that disability is a source of shame….’. Internalised ableism, is absorbing ableism around oneself and believing it.

Lauren Presutti, writing for the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation, labelled a main cause of internalised ableism as disabled individuals being ‘heavily influenced by the stereotypes, misconceptions and discrimination against people with disabilities’. Presutti stated that belief in these stereotypes and misconceptions can make us believe our disabilities make us inferior. Upon reading, I was led to wonder where disabled stereotypes stem from. Where did pitiful, or menacing depictions begin, and is it really still influencing attitudes today? My disheartening answer was:

Literature.

Though literary representation is improving, I cannot remember reading of disabled heroes being permitted by authors, to complain of disability challenges. Villains, however…

Prosthetic Obsession

A physically disabled character portrayed as resenting his trials, is the infamous pirate from J.M Barrie’s Neverland. Captain Hook is a problematic depiction of disability – even Disney’s sanitised version attracted controversy because he was their first disabled character, and an unsympathetic villain. He was also defined, as in the original, entirely by his hook. His identity reduced to his prosthetic. In the novel, and later the play, ‘Peter and Wendy’, the villain is depicted as obsessed, portrayed as hell bent on revenge for Peter Pan disabling him, by cutting off his hand and feeding it to the clock swallowing crocodile. In ‘Peter and Wendy’, Smee mentions that the hook is useful ‘for combing the hair, and other homely uses’. This leads the villainous captain to reply that ‘were [he] a mother, [he] would pray that [his] child were born with this’ (showing his remaining arm) ‘rather than this’ (waving his prosthetic hook in Smee’s face). The villain also complains, of the crocodile that hunts him, the reason for his hatred of Peter Pan; ‘twas he that first gave the brute his taste for me’. It is also portrayed as a challenge for him to shake hands with anyone in the play, as even his most loyal crew don’t want to shake his hook. The captain is depicted as being so used to and resentful of this that he has created a sinister rhyme to cope with it; ‘with fear you’re overtook. Nought’s left upon your bones when you, have shaken hands with Hook’. Although Captain Hook laments the trials of his disability, it connects the natural act of resenting disability related challenges, with a stereotyped villain. While it seems more absurd as you get older, it is younger minds absorbing this message.

A Cheery Little Chap

A character portrayed as uncomplaining about their disability, who is rewarded for their ever chirpy attitude, gaining ‘a second father’ through his pitiful nature, is the classic figure, Tiny Tim, from ‘A Christmas Carol’. The Dickensian child’s disability is not disclosed, but it is repeatedly emphasised that he is not able bodied. The little protagonist uses a crutch for his suggested mobility issues, coughs repeatedly, and is used as a redemption device for Scrooge, whose final epiphany is the impact of his selfish ways, and how they affect the disabled child. Even when the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come shows Scrooge that the child will die unless Scrooge himself should change, Tiny Tim is portrayed as never complaining. Not about his condition, nor the challenges he faces, nor the emotional turmoil of being the only disabled member of his family. All are glossed over, to give him a golden disposition despite his situation; ‘[he was] as good as gold. As good as gold and better.’ Tiny Tim is also represented as hopeful about disabilities in an ambiguous line spoken by his father. He describes how ‘[Tiny Tim] hoped the people saw him in church because he was a cripple and it might be pleasant for them to remember upon Christmas Day who made lame beggars walk and blind men see.’ While the quote uses outdated language, the ambiguity lies in whether Tiny Tim believes it is his faith people need to see, that though he is disabled, he has faith. The other possible implication is that he believes himself to be reminiscent of Jesus; ‘who made lame beggars walk and blind men see’. If so, this has two possible interpretations. The first is that he is suggesting shared innocence between him and his God, and the second possible meaning is that he believes Jesus was disabled. This may explain, with his closeness to his god as a coping mechanism, why Tiny Tim is such a cheerful lad. However, his never complaining of daily challenges, while disabled in a period that made it both financially and socially costly to be so, is not realistic. I would like to suggest it cannot be healthy to portray it as such.

The Monster You Think I Am

Other characters who complain of the discrimination and challenges of disabled life, include Tyrion Lannister from ‘A Song Of Ice And Fire’, better known by the television adaptation’s title, ‘Game Of Thrones’. In both the books and TV adaptation, Tyrion is depicted living with dwarfism, though in the books, he also has complete heterochromia (each eye is a different colour) and his face becomes more disfigured after the battle of Blackwater. Throughout the series, Tyrion is referred to by others as ‘The Imp’, and ‘The Demon Monkey’ due to his stature, deformity, and disfigurement. Though Tyrion does not fall into the same category as Captain Hook, he is one of the most bitter, resentful and cynical characters in the series, lashing out at the discrimination he faces. When accused of regicide in ‘A Storm Of Swords’, Tyrion gives an empowering speech about the discrimination he has suffered through the years that makes him wish ‘[he was] the monster you think I am. I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you!’. He also describes how ‘[he] is guilty of a far more monstrous crime. [he] is guilty of being a dwarf’ and has been ‘on trial for that [his] entire life’. The only compassion he receives is from Sansa Stark, who is trapped with him, Shae, who loves him, his brother Jaime, and Oberyn Martell, who uses his fight as a veil for revenge. Tyrion’s morals are questionable because he admits to a stream of offences, in Lysa Arryn’s keep. When attempting at winning over her court, he admits; ‘I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored, I’m not particularly good at violence but I’m good at convincing others to do violence for me…’

George R.R. Martin’s portrayal of disabled life through Tyrion unfortunately continues the trend of characters who complain against ableism and disability challenges, being villains or morally questionable.

Disabled heroes (eg Tiny Tim) do not seem permitted to resent their conditions or trials, while disabled characters such as Captain Hook and Tyrion Lannister, who have villainous qualities, resent and complain of their challenges frequently.

Painted As Tragic Burdens

Though certainly not the only factor contributing towards internalised ableism, with disabled children painted as burdens before they are even born – participants in the National Library of Medicine’s study described their parents’ experiences ‘they were made to feel that the birth of a disabled child was indeed a tragedy’. If absorbing discriminatory stereotypes, amplifies the issue, continuous exposure to the message that only villainous or morally questionable characters complain of disability challenges, is not helping the problem.

Sans Bloodlust

Literature has always had more power than we credit it with. Could we not use that power to say it is natural to have moments where disabled life feels just as challenging as it is, and it is normal to occasionally resent the trials it brings? Could we not write characters resenting the discrimination and challenges they face without having villainous qualities? Someone angry or cynical towards the world for making them feel ashamed for not fitting able bodied norms, without feeling obsessive bloodlust? Better yet, could we portray these challenges? The emotional and mental toll, the moments where you want to punch a pillow. Or moments where you need silence so much that someone walking in annoys you? We could portray every challenge that leads to these natural feelings, without portraying them as harbingers of destruction, villainy or flexible morals.