Why it matters that "ablism" isn't in spell-check - Blogging Against Disablism 2014
My prior Blogging Against Disablism Day posts are (2006 - locked), (2007 - locked) (2008 - locked) , (2009), (2010), (2011), (2012), and (2013)
Ablism isn’t in my spell-checker. Neither is ableism, disablism or disableism. If there’s another way to spell it, I’m not aware. Actually, they aren’t in any of the spell-checkers for the programs I use regularly. Livejournal, Word, Gmail, Outlook, none of them are familiar with the term. I’ve noted this on my last few annual Blogging Against Disablism Day entries, as a coda of sorts. I’d write about whatever was on my mind that year, and then at the bottom comment, and my spellchecker STILL hasn’t heard of ablism, which is part of the problem.
This year I’ve decided it’s worthy of discussion as it’s own problem.
Why is it a problem? Plenty of words aren’t in the spell-checker. “Psychoeducational” is a word I type a lot and it isn’t in the spell-checker either. I have the option to add any word I want to the spell-check, at least to the one in Word, if not some of the others.
Spell-check isn’t as simple as a list of words that I need to know how to spell, or other people need to know how to spell. For a word to get into spell-check, someone had to enter it in there. Now for all I know, at this point databases may exist for words, and so anyone writing a new program can just go get a lexicon from the Spell-Check Store without having to enter words into the system. But at some point, someone had to compile a list of words.
Now, let’s say they forget a word. Maybe they forget the word “television.” At some point in testing, someone would type “television” into a paragraph, and it would get flagged as a word that is not in the dictionary, and someone would fix it. Or if it wasn’t flagged right away, sooner or later someone would notice, and someone would complain.
For ablism to have eluded spell-check so far, without anyone fixing the problem, one of two things has to have happened. Either no one has noticed, or people have noticed but no one in a position of power cares.
Which is pretty representative of what happens to ablism and conversations about ablism, really.
Language matters. People can discuss concepts that have no simple, agreed-upon word or phrase, but it takes time and energy and a sense of reinventing the wheel. Ablism isn’t a concept I really want to spend time discussing, but it’s out there, and it affects me, and a lot of people I care about, and a lot of other people out there, so I do. If “ablism,” the word, did not exist, that would not mean that discrimination against people with disabilities was not occurring. Those of us who experience this discrimination, or who care about this discrimination, would keep talking about it. We would probably say “discrimination against people with disabilities,” which covers in 15 syllables what “ablism” conveys in 4.
Fixing a problem starts with acknowledging that there is a problem. I’ve been in too many situations where the people in power refused to notice problems, often big, glaring problems. The rug was bumpy with the collection of problems which had been brushed underneath. Problems? What do you mean, problems? We don’t have problems here, and certainly not THAT problem. If that was a problem, I would have heard about it before. Are you sure YOU aren’t the one with the problem?
Giving ablism a name doesn’t make the problem go away, but it does make talking about it a bit easier and more systematic. Ablism can be considered in context with other “isms,” such as sexism, racism, classism and sizism. I’m not a fan of comparing “isms” but I am a fan of intersectionality and keeping ablism in context with other forms of discrimination. It’s harder to do that without an agreed-upon name. I made the comment in medical school that the people teaching us did generally agree that racism and sexism were real things and bad things. Despite this, there were still aspects of my training which were racist and sexist.
Not only were aspects of my medical training ablist, but I couldn’t even get the people in charge to recognize that ablism is a real thing and a bad thing. The medical culture was not primed to recognize systematic discrimination against people with disabilities as something which exists. Therefore, the concerns I raised were either seen as the way things are (that, is, denying opportunities to people with disabilities was due to the inherent limitations posed by the disability, not by the prejudices of those in power) or seen as my own personal sensitivities. That puts an additional hurdle in place when trying to effect change.
Ablism is everywhere. It’s in overtly stated directives and in subtle policy decisions. It’s in the extra bureaucratic hurdles placed upon people with disabilities to access the most basic services. It’s in the remarks made to people who “don’t look disabled” who use accessible parking facilities. It’s in research funding that goes towards the cause-cure-prevention rhetoric rather than determining support needs of current living individuals. It’s in acts in front of congress that refer to “combating” conditions rather than assisting people. It’s in buildings that have not yet removed readily achievable barriers, over 20 years after a legal mandate to do so. It’s in media portrayals of people with disabilities where disability is the entirety of characterization and plot, where it is rare for a fictional character to start and end a work with a disability without experiencing either a cure or death. It’s in media portrayal of murders of children with disabilities as mercy killings.
Ablism is all around me in the medical culture where I live and work. It’s in the documented health disparities of between people with disabilities and those without. It’s in multiple surveys of physicians reporting discomfort caring for patients with disabilities and being inadequately prepared by their cause-cure-prevention medical training to provide appropriate care. It’s in multiple reports of patients documenting lack of accessible practices and discriminatory care. It’s in the use of “objectively” defined quality of life measures to make decisions about the provision, continuation or withdrawal of care. It’s in training which reinforces the tragedy model of disability.
I spoke last week to a group of health care providers and trainees about aspects of disability relevant to health care. I introduced the word “ablism” and it’s alternate spellings. PowerPoint didn’t recognize any of them either, and I pointed that out as well. Ablism is such a part of medical culture, and of our larger culture, that it often isn’t recognized as such. The status quo is seen as the truth.
The fish doesn’t see water. When it’s everywhere, the way things have always been, and no evidence to suggest there is anything else out there, it’s impossible to see. Ablism is so everywhere that we have to point it out, repeatedly, so that people will be able to notice. We have to discuss it. We have to fight it. We have to get ablism taken seriously.
Omission of ablism in our collective spell-checkers is just one sign of how far we have to go.
Ablism isn’t in my spell-checker. Neither is ableism, disablism or disableism. If there’s another way to spell it, I’m not aware. Actually, they aren’t in any of the spell-checkers for the programs I use regularly. Livejournal, Word, Gmail, Outlook, none of them are familiar with the term. I’ve noted this on my last few annual Blogging Against Disablism Day entries, as a coda of sorts. I’d write about whatever was on my mind that year, and then at the bottom comment, and my spellchecker STILL hasn’t heard of ablism, which is part of the problem.
This year I’ve decided it’s worthy of discussion as it’s own problem.
Why is it a problem? Plenty of words aren’t in the spell-checker. “Psychoeducational” is a word I type a lot and it isn’t in the spell-checker either. I have the option to add any word I want to the spell-check, at least to the one in Word, if not some of the others.
Spell-check isn’t as simple as a list of words that I need to know how to spell, or other people need to know how to spell. For a word to get into spell-check, someone had to enter it in there. Now for all I know, at this point databases may exist for words, and so anyone writing a new program can just go get a lexicon from the Spell-Check Store without having to enter words into the system. But at some point, someone had to compile a list of words.
Now, let’s say they forget a word. Maybe they forget the word “television.” At some point in testing, someone would type “television” into a paragraph, and it would get flagged as a word that is not in the dictionary, and someone would fix it. Or if it wasn’t flagged right away, sooner or later someone would notice, and someone would complain.
For ablism to have eluded spell-check so far, without anyone fixing the problem, one of two things has to have happened. Either no one has noticed, or people have noticed but no one in a position of power cares.
Which is pretty representative of what happens to ablism and conversations about ablism, really.
Language matters. People can discuss concepts that have no simple, agreed-upon word or phrase, but it takes time and energy and a sense of reinventing the wheel. Ablism isn’t a concept I really want to spend time discussing, but it’s out there, and it affects me, and a lot of people I care about, and a lot of other people out there, so I do. If “ablism,” the word, did not exist, that would not mean that discrimination against people with disabilities was not occurring. Those of us who experience this discrimination, or who care about this discrimination, would keep talking about it. We would probably say “discrimination against people with disabilities,” which covers in 15 syllables what “ablism” conveys in 4.
Fixing a problem starts with acknowledging that there is a problem. I’ve been in too many situations where the people in power refused to notice problems, often big, glaring problems. The rug was bumpy with the collection of problems which had been brushed underneath. Problems? What do you mean, problems? We don’t have problems here, and certainly not THAT problem. If that was a problem, I would have heard about it before. Are you sure YOU aren’t the one with the problem?
Giving ablism a name doesn’t make the problem go away, but it does make talking about it a bit easier and more systematic. Ablism can be considered in context with other “isms,” such as sexism, racism, classism and sizism. I’m not a fan of comparing “isms” but I am a fan of intersectionality and keeping ablism in context with other forms of discrimination. It’s harder to do that without an agreed-upon name. I made the comment in medical school that the people teaching us did generally agree that racism and sexism were real things and bad things. Despite this, there were still aspects of my training which were racist and sexist.
Not only were aspects of my medical training ablist, but I couldn’t even get the people in charge to recognize that ablism is a real thing and a bad thing. The medical culture was not primed to recognize systematic discrimination against people with disabilities as something which exists. Therefore, the concerns I raised were either seen as the way things are (that, is, denying opportunities to people with disabilities was due to the inherent limitations posed by the disability, not by the prejudices of those in power) or seen as my own personal sensitivities. That puts an additional hurdle in place when trying to effect change.
Ablism is everywhere. It’s in overtly stated directives and in subtle policy decisions. It’s in the extra bureaucratic hurdles placed upon people with disabilities to access the most basic services. It’s in the remarks made to people who “don’t look disabled” who use accessible parking facilities. It’s in research funding that goes towards the cause-cure-prevention rhetoric rather than determining support needs of current living individuals. It’s in acts in front of congress that refer to “combating” conditions rather than assisting people. It’s in buildings that have not yet removed readily achievable barriers, over 20 years after a legal mandate to do so. It’s in media portrayals of people with disabilities where disability is the entirety of characterization and plot, where it is rare for a fictional character to start and end a work with a disability without experiencing either a cure or death. It’s in media portrayal of murders of children with disabilities as mercy killings.
Ablism is all around me in the medical culture where I live and work. It’s in the documented health disparities of between people with disabilities and those without. It’s in multiple surveys of physicians reporting discomfort caring for patients with disabilities and being inadequately prepared by their cause-cure-prevention medical training to provide appropriate care. It’s in multiple reports of patients documenting lack of accessible practices and discriminatory care. It’s in the use of “objectively” defined quality of life measures to make decisions about the provision, continuation or withdrawal of care. It’s in training which reinforces the tragedy model of disability.
I spoke last week to a group of health care providers and trainees about aspects of disability relevant to health care. I introduced the word “ablism” and it’s alternate spellings. PowerPoint didn’t recognize any of them either, and I pointed that out as well. Ablism is such a part of medical culture, and of our larger culture, that it often isn’t recognized as such. The status quo is seen as the truth.
The fish doesn’t see water. When it’s everywhere, the way things have always been, and no evidence to suggest there is anything else out there, it’s impossible to see. Ablism is so everywhere that we have to point it out, repeatedly, so that people will be able to notice. We have to discuss it. We have to fight it. We have to get ablism taken seriously.
Omission of ablism in our collective spell-checkers is just one sign of how far we have to go.