Written from the point of view of an invisibly disabled person, but applicable to passing in many contexts, this captures some of the complex ambivalence of passing.
Interesting. "Passing" has always been a complex subject for me too, on several different topics. Not invisible disabilities, but rather mental illness (though I suppose some people consider that an invisible disability too) and ethnicity. Most people don't notice how much my OCD influences things (and if had a dime for every time someone has told me that I don't have OCD because I'm disorganized/messy/etc., I'd be rich). And the ethnicity one is even more of a complicated kettle of fish that nobody ever seems to understand no matter how much I try to explain it. *sigh*
I've finally started to get to a place where I'm comfortable showing the effects of my disability to some, where I used to hide it from everyone, including Josh. It makes it even harder.
The one place where I'm consistently confronted with my own limitations is OC Transpo. If I haven't disclosed my situation to someone, I try to avoid taking the bus with them. The looks and comments of strangers are a little easier to take. I don't look disabled, why do I need a seat? I don't look disabled, why can't you just take the stairs?
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The one place where I'm consistently confronted with my own limitations is OC Transpo. If I haven't disclosed my situation to someone, I try to avoid taking the bus with them. The looks and comments of strangers are a little easier to take. I don't look disabled, why do I need a seat? I don't look disabled, why can't you just take the stairs?
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