I believe in the power of stories. Fiction has the ability to transport us to other times and places and can give us insight into experiences we never would have had otherwise. So to continue my series on ableism, I am presenting a fictional story from another project I’ve been working on.
Meet Soon-Yi Lin, a woman born to Korean & Chinese parents in the year 1900. It is the late 1920’s and she is now living in Hollywood, married to a famous man (you’ll have to read on to find out who). She had a traumatic brain injury as a child and lives with a disability as a result. However society does not yet understand all the impacts of brain injuries can have on people, so no one (including Soon-Yi) understands why she struggles as much as she does.
As you read this story, I’d like you to keep your eyes peeled for two aspects of ableism: misunderstanding disabled people and expecting that disabled people will be disabled all the time. See if you can identify instances where Soon-Yi or her husband are misunderstood. If you notice instances of misunderstanding, can you figure out why they’re being misunderstood? Also, how might the misconception that disabled people are always disabled (or always appear disabled) be impacting her?
The Safest Place in the World
The breakfast dishes sat forgotten at the end of the table and Charlie and I had gone back to bed, just to hold each other before the onslaught of the day began.
“I don’t ever want to leave this place,” he said as he stroked my hair, his other arm wrapped around me.
“Me, either,” I mumbled, half asleep. It was the safest place in the world. I breathed in his scent of cigarette smoke and aftershave and felt the tension of the last several weeks melt away. Movie making was exhilarating, but exhausting work and these moments Charlie and I had together were precious gifts of the universe.
“So, what is the Tramp doing today?” I asked, eyes closed, one finger stroking his chest.
“Oh, nothing much,” he murmured. “Walking through a door, mainly.”
I heard the smile in his voice and snorted in laughter. He laughed with me. “You never just walk through a door, Charlie,” I said, laughing.
“True.” I heard him smiling and knew what expression his face held. He sighed. “The crew keeps wanting me to make movies the way other people do, but that’s not who I am. They’re just so…” his voice trailed off and he grunted his frustration. “They don’t understand, any of them, what I’m going for, what I see in my mind.” He stopped stroking my hair and I knew he’d put his hand on top of his head.
“I do,” I reassured.
“I know,” he said with a flirtatious pout, “that’s why I married you.”
I opened my eyes and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Is that the only reason you married me?” I bit my lower lip and looked into his eyes.
“No. Only one of the many.” He rolled on top of me and kissed me, stroking my hair again. “But you do understand me. You’re the only one, Soon-Yi. No one else understands. No one but you sees the real me.”
My heart hurt at his words and I ran my fingers through his hair. “I know, but if you’d let others see who you are, they’d love you, too. I love you.”
“I know, it’s one of my many reasons for marrying you.” He smiled and gave me a playful kiss.
I felt a gut punch at his mention of our marriage and a tear rolled down my face.
“Oh, what is it?” He asked, concern etching his face.
“Our marriage…or whatever it is.” I traced a wrinkle in the sheets, trying not to cry.
“Our marriage is just as valid as any other couple’s marriage. You know that.”
“I know, but… It hurts. I can’t help feeling like something less than human that I’m legally barred from marrying you because I’m Chinese and you’re white.”
“I’m so sorry… I wish I could change things. Someday, we’ll be allowed to be married and we won’t have to keep this a secret any longer.”
“Yes, but within our lifetimes? Will we be alive to see it?” I searched his face. He was my protector and I hoped against hope he could tell me what I wanted to hear.
But he shrugged, a helpless look on his face. “I don’t know.” He looked at me silently for a moment. “Why are you like this? You never get this upset about our marriage unless something else is bothering you. What is it?” He traced my arm with a finger as he spoke.
I sighed and looked at him, feeling slightly defeated. “I wanted to take care of this myself,” I said.
“Take care of what?” I heard concern rising in his voice.
“I’ve been having trouble with one of the cameramen.”
“Which one?”
“George.”
“What is he doing to you?” He yelped.
“It’s not that. He just treats me like I’m this dumb little girl who has no business running your set.”
“Oh.” He shrank back somewhat, looking discouraged.
“It’s because I get so anxious around him and men who treat me that way… I can’t keep my head clear and his words start making no sense. Then I just say random things in answer to his questions and he thinks… I don’t know what he thinks, but nothing flattering.”
He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “You have to stand up to him. It’s the only thing he understands.”
“Charlie, I don’t know if I can.”
“Yes you can, Soon-Yi.” Charlie sat cross legged in bed and looked at me over invisible glasses, a smile in his eyes. “You just have to be assertive to be taken seriously.” He reached out for my hand and waggled it affectionately. “Come on, try,” he said, his voice pouty and flirtatious.
I looked at him skeptically. “I’m not sure it will work. No one likes me.”
“Well, they don’t know you,” he insisted. “When they do, they’ll love you like I do.” He smirked mischievously. “Well…maybe not exactly like I do,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
I laughed, love flowing through my body. “Aside from that, I just don’t think the crew takes me seriously.”
“Why not?” Charlie asked, sounding concerned.
“Because they never take me at my word. Whenever I tell them you want things a certain way, they don’t believe me and go to you for confirmation. And as soon as I sense them not taking me seriously, I get all flustered. I can’t think clearly. I stammer, what they say stops making sense and I can’t even read my own notes.”
Charlie looked visibly upset. “This happens a lot?” He asked, stroking my hand with his fingers.
“All the time. It’s not just George, it’s everyone.” I said, somewhat apologetically.
“Why haven’t you told me before this?” His hand stilled.
“Because I wanted to handle this on my own. I hate going to you for help all the time.” I tried to keep my embarrassment from my voice, but was unsuccessful.
“But I like helping you!” He said, voice slightly worried.
“Yes, but sometimes, I want to do things on my own. You help me with everything, and I appreciate it,” I added hastily, “but sometimes I feel like a child needing help with everything. I want to feel like an adult.”
“But if you need the help…”
“I know, I know. I should ask.” I felt defeated. I loved having Charlie help me. It was the warmest, safest feeling in the world having him come to my rescue. But it made me feel like an invalid, something I’d told him several times in recent weeks.
His face softened and he slouched, giving me an appraising look. “Tell me what happens. Be specific.” He leaned forward, one elbow on his knee, mouth in his palm, waiting for me to speak.
“George keeps insisting that the angle you set for him isn’t working. I’ve looked through the camera and it seems fine to me, but he won’t believe me. Any time I tell him that the angle is fine and it’s set up the way you want it, he starts saying things like ‘How would a woman know that’ or ‘How dare Charlie send a girl to tell me what to do’. Then his words stop making any sense to me, my mind goes blank, I can’t think straight and when I look at my notes, I can’t make sense of them.” I gave Charlie and exasperated look.
He sighed and shook his head in disgust, eyes scanning the room as if the walls held the answers he was searching for.
“They all think you hired me because you’re sleeping with me,” I added bitterly.
Charlie snorted and rolled his eyes.
“I know,” I replied. “It doesn’t occur to anyone that we love each other.”
“Or that we’re married, illegally though it may be” he added angrily. “You should have the respect you deserve and being my wife is not why you deserve respect. You deserve respect because you’re a human being and their colleague. And you need to show them that by standing up to them. Unfortunately, they’re going to continue to demean you until you show them you’re not to be demeaned.” He looked at me sternly. “Next time George does that, be assertive. Do what I showed you. Stand up tall, look him in the eye and tell him you expect respect. Tell him I put you in this position because you’re good at what you do and that your private life is just that, private. It’s none of his business what you do in your time off.” His voice had become visceral, his protective instincts riled. He looked at me, his mind whirring, shifting weight from one side to the other. I could tell he was itching to put this cameraman in his place.
“Please, let me handle this,” I said sternly.
His body stilled reluctantly. “Fine.” He looked at me a moment longer. “But if you do what I said and it doesn’t work, or if God forbid you suspect he might become violent, you must let me know.”
“I will,” I promised.
That afternoon, I girded myself, watching George set up for filming, hanging just out of sight off set. I thought about what Charlie had told me and imagined myself standing up straight, looking him in the eye and demanding respect. It was easy enough in my mind, but in person…that was another story. I took a step forward and he turned around.
“Hi, Sue,” George said, addressing me in a back-handed way, using my English first name rather than the culturally appropriate ‘Miss Lin’.
“Hi George,” I said, returning the jab. He turned sharply and gave me a questioning look before turning back to the camera.
I stood in the corner of the set, flipping pages on my clipboard and making a mental note of what needed to be done before filming started, rehearsing my response to his inevitable verbal attack.
“So, Sue…” came George’s voice from behind the camera. “Have you spoken with Charlie about my idea?”
“I did,” I responded, bringing myself up to my full four feet nine inches.
“And?” He prompted.
“Charlie doesn’t agree,” I said assertively.
George rounded on me, his camera forgotten. “How could he not agree? All I see through this damn thing is two little dots in this great big room! How the hell does he expect anyone to know what’s going on?”
I felt anxiety welling up inside of me, my heart racing and my palms sweating. My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to keep fear from my voice. “He says it will look fine on a big screen. He says you have to keep in mind the scale of what you’re looking through and that more detail will be apparent in the theater.” My mouth was dry and my voice wavered. I shifted my clipboard to my other hand, my papers becoming wrinkled with sweat.
George put his hands on his hips and leaned over, scowling at me. “Ow ganee think at?” He bellowed. “Ut izzee dinking? Air is that man?” He stormed off set in search of Charlie.
I stood frozen in place, my mind blank, my body trembling. Numbly, I fumbled with my clipboard, mostly to have something to keep my hands busy, but dropped it on the floor. Picking it up, I saw that my notes, previously organized and clear, now made no sense to me. I retreated to the corner, squeezing myself between the wall and a grandfather clock.
It was quiet in this place and I breathed, waiting for my racing heart to still. I wanted Charlie. I wanted to collapse into his arms and have him make everything alright. But more than that, I wanted to know I could take care of myself. So I stayed in the corner, calming myself down and waiting for George’s return.
I imagined myself with Charlie, his arms around me, stroking my hair and rocking me gently. I felt the warmth of his chest and smelled his scent. As my breathing slowed, my thoughts returned. My mind thawed and I began preparing a speech, demanding respect.
Much too soon, I heard George’s voice approaching and two sets of footsteps emerged onto the set.
“Look at this,” George said. I heard the shifting of places and clothing rustling. Charlie must be looking into the camera.
“It looks okay to me,” I heard Charlie say.
“But-” George began.
“It’s going to look different on a big screen. What looks minute through the camera will look much larger and more proportional in a theater.” He paused. “Didn’t Sue tell you this already?”
“She never said anything,” George lied defensively.
I stepped out from behind the grandfather clock. George’s face hardened and Charlie looked bemused.
“I told him exactly what you just told him,” I said to Charlie. Though I tried to make my voice stern, it wavered, sounding uncertain and hesitant. My mouth went dry again.
Charlie looked at George, hands on hips, an icy look in his eyes. “If she already told you, you had no reason to come to me,” he barked. He glanced at me, debating what to do next. After a few moments, he lowered his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. “Sue,” he said professionally, “what do you think?”
I felt the blood leave my head as George’s head whipped in my direction, glaring at me. “I agree with Charlie,” I said to George, my mouth not quite working properly.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She can’t talk straight. Look at her! She’s holding her clipboard upside down.”
I glanced at my hands, having no idea which way was up on my clipboard, both ends looking identical to me.
Charlie dismissed his comment. “We’re keeping the angle,” he said sternly. “Go get some extra reels.” He jerked his head in the direction of the studio proper and glared at George until he complied.
Now alone, Charlie looked at me, clearly wishing he could fix my problem. “Is that what you’ve been talking about?” He asked quietly. I nodded. “I see,” he said, walking toward me. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “I’ll respect your wishes if you want to keep handling this yourself, but…he was really out of line.”
I glanced around, making sure we were alone. “I know,” I said before wrapping him in a bear hug. He squeezed my shoulders and stroked my hair while I breathed in his scent. We stepped back before anyone could walk in. Charlie glanced around, assessing our privacy. “I just need to know I can take care of myself,” I said.
Charlie nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I can understand that. I don’t like it, but I understand it.”
Now that you’ve met Soon-Yi and Charlie, notice what your first impressions are of them. Did they match your expectations of who Soon-Yi and Charlie Chaplin were? Why or why not?
As I thought about how to communicate about being misunderstood because of disability and being expected to be disabled all the time, I realized that both of these issues impact disabled people and non-disabled people frequently. We have all been misunderstood in our lives, whether because of a miscommunication, because of cultural differences or because of disability. Understanding the phenomenon of misunderstanding people and why misunderstandings happen is central to understanding why disabled people are so often misunderstood. Many of us have also experienced what it’s like to have people place assumptions on us about who we are, how we should behave or what we should do with our lives.
As you’ve seen in my previous posts, the experience of disability is often hidden, which means that the world expects people with disabilities to behave the way non-disabled people do. When disabled people behave differently, like not making eye contact or by having a very limited range of foods we like, people often don’t get why this is and fill in their gaps in understanding with logic that makes sense to them, usually from a non-disabled perspective. This results in experiences such as Soon-Yi’s where the cameraman used Soon-Yi holding her clipboard upside down and speaking with slurred speech as ‘proof’ that she was incapable of doing her job.
In addition, Soon-Yi appears non-disabled and her disability characteristics don’t always show up in her life. They come and go. In this situation, they showed up when she became anxious about her encounter with George and worsened when George became aggressive. People don’t tend to think of disability characteristics as things that can become visible to others or not depending on circumstance, but this is exactly what happens. Soon-Yi likely also believes that if she were disabled, she’d experience her disability with equal severity at all times. As a result, she probably discounts disability as contributing to her struggles because she doesn’t mishear people or struggle to read her notes all the time.
Soon-Yi also faces constant racism and sexism in 1920’s Hollywood, which compounds her struggles with disability. This is still true today. Ableism does not happen in a vacuum and people with disabilities also experience other forms of discrimination such as racism, sexism and homophobia. Each of these phenomena make a person’s experience more difficult.
I’ll continue with the story of Soon-Yi and Charlie in my next post.
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This is beautiful!! Can’t wait to read more!