Poster girl for discrimination: India needs to learn to protect her differently-abled citizens

Before my first solo trip abroad, I jokingly reassured my father that if I was harassed, ill-treated or troubled in any way, I would only have to hint at a discrimination lawsuit, and voila! I’d be treated like a queen. You see, as a brown woman on a wheelchair, traveling alone no less, a) no one minds bending backwards where necessary, and b) even if they do, that’s one discrimination lawsuit that no company wants to face. The Poster Girl for discrimination. Funnily enough, the same qualifications in India, make me a unicorn— something that just couldn’t exist. Lets take brown off that list in our chocolate country, and replace that with something far worse —  an independent liberal who calls herself a fully functioning human being while casually asking to be carried up a flight of stairs. This contradiction is my reality. 

So lets rewind a little and introduce my “humble” beginnings through my own biased lens. I grew up in Calcutta, the city that operates in its own parallel world; attended one of the premier missionary schools for girls, which encouraged me to be whatever I wanted to be, (as long as my hair was tied, and uniform clean), made a ton of friends and a billion opinions, got good grades and was active in most clubs, events, and extra-curricular activities. Oh! I almost forgot to mention I was born with a condition called Spina-bifida. This means the annual surgery or two, as I progressed from walking to class one to five, to being carried up steps in class six, to wheeling into class 11. 

If your reaction is “ Okay, so? That’s every moderately good kid”, Hooray! We need more people like you. If however your reaction is one of the following:

a) Poor girl — must be so hard — I know a baba who can ‘cure’ this! (I definitely don’t need fixing, and no he cannot.) 
b) Such an inspiration-brilliant-can we give her a courage award?
c) A weird mix of both the above —  the satyamev jayate of Sharmaji ka ladka-uff-ladki

We need to talk. The reason I forgot to mention a birth condition is because it shouldn’t matter. It’s a part of me that’s private yet publicly unavoidable. It does make certain things tough—  like stairs, but it also makes certain things easier — like long queues. It’s one aspect of my life, not a colour the entirety of it needs to be painted with. I know this because I lucked out. My parents didn’t raise me to believe mediocrity was acceptable because I’d had a surgery that year. My school didn’t object to me being on stage, going on school trips across India or even running on sports day. My friends, who grew up with me in the same bubble, also didn’t think to treat me like a china doll. This core around me, balanced me on the pity-pedestal see-saw that society imposed, and continues to impose. I also had the chance to study and live in the UK for four years, where the infrastructure meant —  more people like me on wheels, which in turn lead to the loss of my celebrity status. But unfortunately this is not the case with most people born to similar circumstances. 

Which is where you come in. The infrastructure of our country continues to be dismally inadequate for disabled people, despite efforts like the Accessible India Campaign, and building laws that require ramps. Why? Mostly because we’ve never thought of a disabled person as anything but disabled. Even most articles on disability are written as hero stories, where the “unfortunate individual” triumphed above all odds, emerged victorious — followed by a mediocre achievement. 

We think of disabled people as “patients” needing constant care, and incapable of doing anything independently, existing to be cared for or inspired by. We can’t fathom them being functioning human beings. So India stares at me as I eat at a restaurant, silently labels my parents uncaring when I say I’m traveling alone, has no qualms in asking me increasing personal questions, offers unsolicited advice and is impressed at my overall existence. 

I realise it’s difficult to convince you to change your perception. You are curious, you only want to help, and you haven’t really met many people on wheels you’d call “normal”. It’s not your fault, but you can be the solution. Till then I’ll be the unicorn as much as I’d like otherwise. Till my achievements, (however small) are not suffixed with my disability.

Dos and don’ts of how to interact with a differently abled person:

Offer to help but don’t insist on it.

Don’t ask personal questions you wouldn’t want to answer

Medical or other advice is best kept to yourself, the people closest to this person, have already considered your brilliant solution.

Assume the same goals for them as any individual

Be inspired by who they are not what condition they happen to live with

Assume they do all the things you do, go to movies, shop, work, marry

Build ramps! (Even you may need it when you grow old)

Treat us as people, not a patient, not a miracle, a person 

Talk to me about me not the person I happen to be with 

Is that so much to ask?

The author is a young graphic designer based in Kolkata. She tweets at @SumeghaGinodia