If I Need Help, I’ll Ask for It: An Encounter with a Self-Obsessed Ableist
Updated September 27. 2020
I was on a small excursion, among other things returning books to the library and while I was there, I picked up another one. After getting checked out, I moved over about a meter and a bit to get out of the way so the person behind me could get to the counter and talk to the librarian. This meant that I was sitting in front of the door, not quite all the way there, but close enough that there was about the width of a person between me and the automatic door button. I was wrangling a number of things on my lap, trying to put my library card back in my purse and after that put the book in a bag, both of which were also on my lap.
Suddenly, a woman swoops in and presses the button for the automatic door.
“There you go!” she cheerily, clearly pleased with herself for helping out.
“Thanks!” I look up and smile. “I’m not quite ready yet,” and I bend my head down to look at the pile in my lap, still trying to get my library card into its slot.
“Oh jeez, do I have to hold open the door now?” she says, the cheer tinged with that clipped tone that means the speaker is irritated. Apparently, I was interfering with her self-image as a saintly helper for the disabled.
“No thanks,” I say, “I’m not quite ready yet.” I’m still smiling although the on the inside, my eyes are starting to roll.
“I’ll go hold the door,” she sights and strides past me, through the inner door and outside, holding the other door open. The door that is standing open due to the automatic door opener still being activated. She looks expectantly at me, her smile now rather brittle.
“I’m not quite ready yet, but thank you!” I say, still baring my teeth smiling and wondering if perhaps I’m not actually speaking out loud. When it becomes clear I’m not going to leave on her schedule, she gives up and comes back in, joining the line-up for the librarian. She very decidedly does not look in my direction.. I close my purse and put the book in the bag.
And then I push the button for the automatic door opener with my foot and leave before she gets it into her head to help me again.
Tag: .disability, ableism, accessibility, etiquette, Karens, wheelchair ettiquette
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Sometimes the help is just not needed. Or maybe a different kind of help. Like asking first.
Exactly. Having respect for a person’s dignity and independence — regardless of their ability — means that you ask first if they want help, and then how you can help.