It is funny (not in a ha ha sense but in an ironic sense) that after I got home tonight, this article from Wired.com was waiting for me in my RSS feeds. Originally titled “Why We Freak Out at Freaks” (and, after several complaints in the comments section to the post, changed to “Why We Stare, Even When We Don’t Want To”), the article explains why staring when one sees someone who looks different “actually makes sense, at least in an evolutionary sense”.
I found it funny because while I was out walking around looking for a decent restaurant with a nice atmosphere to have supper in my neighbourhood that would actually be open on a Monday night (I eventually gave up and ordered in Chinese, which ended up being pretty good), I was stopped by a young man on a street corner who asked me what was wrong with me. Needless to say I was thoroughly annoyed but I will get to that in a minute.
But first, just to put things into context, I walk with a cane and, I might add, I have a very strong, brisk gait, I am not just limping away on my cane or anything. But I do use a cane when walking outside or for long distances because it just makes things easier and I have better balance with it. At first glance, generally speaking, that would be the only indication that something would be “wrong”. Because without the cane, most people have no clue and I regularly surprise people when I tell them I have a prosthesis, as happened recently with a new friend of mine and his girlfriend (hi David :) They seemed rather taken aback when I spoke of it all matter-of-factly because to me, even in the rare instances I do not use my cane, it is so a part of me that I usually assume people know for some reason or another. But the truth is that unless I was to walk around without pants (which I never do or, at least, not outside the relative privacy of my own home) or that you know what to look for (because you are used to seeing people walking with prosthesises), it really is not very apparent if at all. That really is not the point of this story and to be honest, I could not care less at this point in my life if it were apparent or not but it is worth mentionning just to point out that for a lot of people, just walking around with a cane seems like a big deal.
Anyway, so there I was, just walking down the street, minding my own business, blablabla, and I notice this guy standing on a corner with a garbage bag in his hand (he was a city garbage collector employee as evidenced by his attire and tonight was garbage night) staring at me crossing the street towards his direction. As I get to the corner, he says to me, in a distinct French European accent, “excuse me, do you speak French?”. Thinking he might need some random information, like the time or directions or something, I slow down a bit and say yes. So then he says “what is wrong with your legs?”
And yes, I admit, even though this kind of scene has been part of the landscape for most of my life, I still could not believe it. I mean, do people seriously think that is all have to do with my time, just stop for random assholes on the street and explain my medical history to them? So, rather pissed as I passed by him, I replied “what business is that of yours?” A look of surprise and incomprehension swepted over his face, which pissed me off even more, and he insisted, explaining he just wanted to know. So I berated him, telling him “you stop a complete stranger on the street, can not even be bothered to open with a ‘hello’ and ask them something that is none of your business? You are an idiot” (actually, the exchange was in French so I concluded with “vous êtes un pauvre con“) and just kept on walking.
Now, the truth is, this sort of thing has been happening to me constantly ever since I became visibly disabled some 30 odd years ago (although, most of the time, I usually get this from elderly people more than from people in their 20s like the guy tonight). And you would think that the 15 years I spent in a wheelchair would have toughened me up to this sort of rude behaviour, what with not only being stared at, having very personal questions thown at me from complete strangers in every conceivable public place, but even having a surprising number of individuals intent on touching me as they apparently believed it would bring them closer to God, etc., etc.
But no, absolutely not, you do not get used to it. You sometimes choose to ignore it because, well, you have more important or more pressing things that require your attention. Sometimes, more rarely, you can even laugh about it because there are situations that quite simply defy the imagination. And sometimes, even more rarely, you could not give a shit about what kinds of problems people could have that would motivate them to act in such a way or could actually make them believe that this sort of behaviour is acceptable. But you never get used to it. Never. And quite frankly, there is no reason you should have to.
And then I get home, settle down in front of my computer with my sweet and sour soup and my spring rolls and stuff and read this Wired.com article which, out of the gate, proves how little we have evolved if the original title is any indication and think to myself “great, just what we need, another excuse (as if they need more help) to let people continue abusing other people just on the basis of how different they look”. No, really, it is not their fault, it is biological, it is part of evolution, long-term and short-term survival of very social animals, etc.
Well, I do not know about you but it seems to me that evolution involves the advancement, the betterment of the species in a variety of domains. And in this day and age, being a nosey, insensitive asshole is far from evolved.