May 2004

The view from down here

by Jan Michels, WSBA Executive Director; edited by Charlene Curtiss

Charlene Curtiss is my friend. She is also a lawyer-former public defender, a neighbor, and a wheelchair person. She has been in a wheelchair since a gymnastics accident in her teenage years. But that reality of her life is hardly defining, since she is so much more.

Char and her husband, Dick Roth, recently spent a weekend at Whistler with my husband, Alan, and me. We cozied up in a small one-bedroom unit. My special awareness of life in a wheelchair began with questions Char needed to ask before deciding to visit us at all. Could she get to the unit in a wheelchair? Would the bathroom, shower, and faucets be reachable from her chair? Was there room to do transfers from her chair to the furniture? Would she be able to get around Whistler Village on her own? Yes, yes, and yes — they would come. With these threshold assurances met, daily life needs came next, like having the coffee toward the front of the counter, making sure that the bed and pillows offered enough support, and ensuring the ability to stay in touch in case of getting stuck somewhere (cell phones are enabling for roaming and moving around independently). Char notes that most anyone is willing, if asked, to give her a push if the incline gets steep or she hits a snow barrier. Char is at home with her needs and isn't leery or apologetic about asking for help. I'm short and I ask people to reach things for me all the time! Turns out we all had a good laugh when Char arrived in her lightweight travel chair, forgetting that its wheels were slicks — not the best for snow country. Char has as many chairs as I have pairs of shoes — all suited for different purposes and comforts.

Char has skied both in sit-skis and on a mono-ski, but this weekend she treated herself to gondola trips to the summit and back.

Without a deliberate lesson or self-consciousness, Char promoted me to another degree of cultural competence about life in a wheelchair. I remember that, after Ron Ward was elected WSBA president-elect, his partner Lance Palmer wrote about Ron's life as an African-American, and how I appreciated his ease with race words. I follow his lead in dispelling some of the distance, fear, or awkwardness around talking to and about nonmajority persons.

Char calls herself a "crip." Dick uses the word "crip," too, for Char's wheelchair life, but I am more comfortable with the politically correct phrase "wheelchair person," though it can feel a bit stilted. Char knows that the word "crip" startles people at first, but she says in friendly conversation, "It's OK to use euphemisms or slang." She is beyond making the language about mobility and disability a point of discussion. Char taught me the term "standup" to refer to non-wheelchair persons and laughed about the times it was good to have a standup around often in chiding or thanking Dick for some assistance. Not all handicapped persons are comfortable with this language, and neither Char nor I mean to promote it. Irreverent language is only one way to dispel some of the shroud around those who are like or unlike ourselves.

Char is a national consultant for handicapped accessibility. She is an expert on how to ensure effective access to courtrooms, businesses, and recreational facilities. Char's peeve isn't the slow, incrementally improving awareness of the fairness and need to accommodate all forms of size and mobility differences; her frustration is the little things that matter minute to minute for those with the challenges of living in a world geared toward standup mobility.

Char is a professional dancer. She owns and heads a dance troupe, Light Motion, which appears coast to coast. I've watched her dance with persons on rollerblades, skateboards, and crutches, and other crips, as well as standups. She loves the audience to see what chairs can do, and startles them with lifts, spins, and floor movements in and out of the chair. With the grace of wheels, she disarms mindsets about mobility and dexterity.

Char is a pragmatist. She doesn't lobby for the world to be overly skewed toward the 10 percent of the population who live life dependent on wheelchairs, crutches, or other mechanical assists. She does wish more people would learn courtesy behaviors, and language that doesn't estrange other persons unlike themselves. Wheelchair persons don't demand or even want special treatment but they deserve simple accommodation. Char stresses that it's important to get to know the whole person — not just the challenging condition he or she lives with.

Char is used to people's response of fear or self-consciousness in dealing with a person of other mobility. Her suggestions are simple. "Leaning on or touching someone's chair is an invasion of privacy." "It's OK for a standup to remain standing when talking to a person in a wheelchair." Char says handicapped facilities or wheelchair-enabled rooms in hotels are special features that make it possible for wheelchair persons to travel and move around freely. She notes that these facilities are not intended for the exclusive use of the handicapped, but should a handicapped person need them she notes the courtesy of deferring to them.

Sure there are some wheelchair persons who are strident or make in-your-face demands, but there are parallels in the standup population too. The reality that caused the need for a chair or the conditions and accommodations chair persons need are simply part of their lives. Accommodations and courtesies are simple and can be graciously given. Handicapped or disabled persons are first people who live their lives just like everyone else; they just happen to do it in a wheelchair.

There are many visible and less-visible health and mobility challenges people face — epilepsy, diabetes, arthritis, depression — all of which make special demands on the lives of those we know and care about. The truth is that factors such as health, mobility, and cognitive ability all exist on a continuum — not as dichotomies. While this story deals with an obvious "difference," cultural competence requires an unself-conscious acceptance of all forms of "differentness." I hope a dialogue like this can advance this goal.

Thanks, Char, for sharing your life and comments with us.

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