I welcome your counter-perspective here, especially in making clear that impairments should be treated and pretending they are net positive can be counter-productive.
However
> There is no such thing as the “disabled community,” much less the “abled community.”
I welcome your counter-perspective here, especially in making clear that impairments should be treated and pretending they are net positive can be counter-productive.
However
> There is no such thing as the “disabled community,” much less the “abled community.”
and
> People do not seek to be identified as disabled because they are hurt by their disorders but because they are otherwise lacking in fulfillment and confidence.
Perhaps there's some of that - but I believe, and have observed with family members with severe mental illnesses that are debilitating during different periods of their lives, that seeking out others with similar problems is immensely helpful - you can learn how to cope, treat, etc, and simply talking with others in a similar boat can ease the distress and loneliness associated with having a problem most around you do not have.
So I think it's important to distinguish between people privately seeking help in a community of people suffering similarly and broadcasting their problems to the general population.
That sucks. Worth noting it doesn't help everybody.
This reminds me of a similar point: some people find comfort in others knowing about their struggles - for instance, telling people they meet about it right away so as to be fully understood. Others prefer privacy. The former inevitably get more attention because they are seeking it (in this case, in good faith). But awareness of the latter, that many with disabilities would prefer not to discuss it with most people, can be completely lost.
It cuts both ways. It's always good to meet people with similar issues, but making your mental illness the core of your social life and identity can perversely make it harder to change and overcome it. Even live as a functional adult while managing it. I get the basic premise, but I sometimes feel like a lot of the mental health community has decided that treating a mental illness, much less trying to cure it is problematic and ableist. There are some circles that barely stop short of admitting these illnesses are even bad. Just wave it away with talk about "neurotypical."
When I was in grad school for education and taking courses on adolescent mental health, the consensus in the field seemed to be that bringing kids with mental health or trauma issues together in small, structured environments could be good for recovery and growth, but left alone for too long would eventually bond around their shared problem and increasingly self-identify with it, leading to all the negative outcomes Freddie outlines above.
I'm reminded of the differing value between support groups and the more proactive forms of therapy. The former is, or can be, an important part of not feeling isolated. But it is the later that actually attempts to find paths forward towards better health. Engaging in the first while ignoring the second can create a closed circle, a feedback loop, rather than a way to actually engage with a challenge. A closed circle with no potential paths forward can only keep things static and will support the taking on of an illness as an actual identity.
Hopefully this doesn't come across as pedantic, but I was thinking it might be useful to frame what you are referring to as "communities of people who share a disability" rather than "The Disabled Community" as invoked in the discourse and to which Freddie and Andre_Aceman refer.
In the former, the emphasis is on actually existing groups of actually existing people, attempting mutual support and sharing knowledge about a shared condition. The latter is more of a chimera that's invoked by would-be representatives or co-opters for their own self-interest.
*The* disabled community, as in the one true association of all people with disabilities, definitely doesn't exist. I don't think a Paralympian on a magazine cover and a homeless vet with an undiagnosed mental disorder have anything in common.
But communities united by a specific disability have a pretty clear place in the social and political life of disabled people. I think especially of deaf communities, like those Central American orphans who invented their own sign language--surely making up a language is a sign of a community self-organizing to meet a pressing need! But I think this supports Freddie's point: while there is a wacky fringe that thinks all treatments for deafness or blindness are eugenics, the vast majority of people with these conditions understand that they have negative impacts on quality of life, and that they need to come together and propose specific, legally-binding accommodations from institutions, not new emoji buttons or cancelling their enemies on Twitter.
I think this is where the fixation on cultural identification as a replacement for social alienation, with the byproduct of self-aggrandizing narcissism, goes haywire. If it is agreeable that the function of linguistic semiotics can lead to the production of culture, I think it is reasonable to make a distinction between the phenomenon of a unique sign language and culture developed in isolation, and the inherent disability present in the condition of being deaf.
The notion that cultural identity is inherent and immutable (and therefore idealistic in essence) is ahistorical, immaterial, and untenable. It obfuscates the fact that this standpoint assumes that the *ideology* that any one given individual has developed or adopted is the true *philosophical* reality for all, which is philosophically contradictory and decadent (and not even really consistently humanist, despite all the liberal moralizing that tends to happen over this stuff).
I think Deaf communities may be a bit of an exception here, because they are also generally linguistic minorities, groups united by a common language not shared with the majority they live amongst. Language is an incredibly powerful social marker and vehicle for culture and not at play in most group of disabled folks.
I welcome your counter-perspective here, especially in making clear that impairments should be treated and pretending they are net positive can be counter-productive.
However
> There is no such thing as the “disabled community,” much less the “abled community.”
and
> People do not seek to be identified as disabled because they are hurt by their disorders but because they are otherwise lacking in fulfillment and confidence.
Perhaps there's some of that - but I believe, and have observed with family members with severe mental illnesses that are debilitating during different periods of their lives, that seeking out others with similar problems is immensely helpful - you can learn how to cope, treat, etc, and simply talking with others in a similar boat can ease the distress and loneliness associated with having a problem most around you do not have.
So I think it's important to distinguish between people privately seeking help in a community of people suffering similarly and broadcasting their problems to the general population.
That sucks. Worth noting it doesn't help everybody.
This reminds me of a similar point: some people find comfort in others knowing about their struggles - for instance, telling people they meet about it right away so as to be fully understood. Others prefer privacy. The former inevitably get more attention because they are seeking it (in this case, in good faith). But awareness of the latter, that many with disabilities would prefer not to discuss it with most people, can be completely lost.
Or some humans who have figured out how to put themselves in charge of said "community".
A lot of "community leaders" are self-appointed.
It cuts both ways. It's always good to meet people with similar issues, but making your mental illness the core of your social life and identity can perversely make it harder to change and overcome it. Even live as a functional adult while managing it. I get the basic premise, but I sometimes feel like a lot of the mental health community has decided that treating a mental illness, much less trying to cure it is problematic and ableist. There are some circles that barely stop short of admitting these illnesses are even bad. Just wave it away with talk about "neurotypical."
When I was in grad school for education and taking courses on adolescent mental health, the consensus in the field seemed to be that bringing kids with mental health or trauma issues together in small, structured environments could be good for recovery and growth, but left alone for too long would eventually bond around their shared problem and increasingly self-identify with it, leading to all the negative outcomes Freddie outlines above.
I'm reminded of the differing value between support groups and the more proactive forms of therapy. The former is, or can be, an important part of not feeling isolated. But it is the later that actually attempts to find paths forward towards better health. Engaging in the first while ignoring the second can create a closed circle, a feedback loop, rather than a way to actually engage with a challenge. A closed circle with no potential paths forward can only keep things static and will support the taking on of an illness as an actual identity.
Hopefully this doesn't come across as pedantic, but I was thinking it might be useful to frame what you are referring to as "communities of people who share a disability" rather than "The Disabled Community" as invoked in the discourse and to which Freddie and Andre_Aceman refer.
In the former, the emphasis is on actually existing groups of actually existing people, attempting mutual support and sharing knowledge about a shared condition. The latter is more of a chimera that's invoked by would-be representatives or co-opters for their own self-interest.
Yes, exactly, I think Freddie's posts on these matters will be better understood if he acknowledges this distinction - that is, if he agrees.
*The* disabled community, as in the one true association of all people with disabilities, definitely doesn't exist. I don't think a Paralympian on a magazine cover and a homeless vet with an undiagnosed mental disorder have anything in common.
But communities united by a specific disability have a pretty clear place in the social and political life of disabled people. I think especially of deaf communities, like those Central American orphans who invented their own sign language--surely making up a language is a sign of a community self-organizing to meet a pressing need! But I think this supports Freddie's point: while there is a wacky fringe that thinks all treatments for deafness or blindness are eugenics, the vast majority of people with these conditions understand that they have negative impacts on quality of life, and that they need to come together and propose specific, legally-binding accommodations from institutions, not new emoji buttons or cancelling their enemies on Twitter.
I think this is where the fixation on cultural identification as a replacement for social alienation, with the byproduct of self-aggrandizing narcissism, goes haywire. If it is agreeable that the function of linguistic semiotics can lead to the production of culture, I think it is reasonable to make a distinction between the phenomenon of a unique sign language and culture developed in isolation, and the inherent disability present in the condition of being deaf.
The notion that cultural identity is inherent and immutable (and therefore idealistic in essence) is ahistorical, immaterial, and untenable. It obfuscates the fact that this standpoint assumes that the *ideology* that any one given individual has developed or adopted is the true *philosophical* reality for all, which is philosophically contradictory and decadent (and not even really consistently humanist, despite all the liberal moralizing that tends to happen over this stuff).
I think Deaf communities may be a bit of an exception here, because they are also generally linguistic minorities, groups united by a common language not shared with the majority they live amongst. Language is an incredibly powerful social marker and vehicle for culture and not at play in most group of disabled folks.