YOU, ARE A GOOD PERSON!

 

My family moved to a new city before I received a diagnosis. I thought I had a back injury. I walked a little more slowly and took more short steps than long ones, but I found ways to cope with the pain in every step just to keep moving.

In the grocery store parking lot after shopping, I looked around for the cart corral with hope that one would be nearby. It's not that I think cart corrals move around. Of course they don't. My body was aching so badly after a large, weekly grocery shopping expedition that my energy reserves were depleted.

The nearest cart corrals were several aisles away, but the sidewalk for the store was very walkable. So I walked behind the cart with my modified limp, passed a woman sitting on a bench, pulled the cart onto the sidewalk, and parked it near several other carts in what looked like an acceptable spot near the automatic doors for the store.

As I limped back to my car using my adapted walk, the woman sitting on the bench yelled, "YOU are a GOOD person! AN INSPIRATION!" 

I looked around expecting to find Jesus, Mary, Joseph, maybe one of the Apostles (except for Judas), Mother Teresa, or parents with 45 adopted children in tow. But no one was around. 

She spoke again, "I'm talkin' to YOU" and added, "BLESS YOU!"

Another second or two went by until I understood that she was talking to me and had been observing my walk with the shopping cart. Within a span of mere seconds, she had done the following with great efficiency:

• Identified my walk as some sort of condition that falls outside her norm
• Evaluated my action of returning the shopping cart as preferable, good, or even heroic
• Felt inspired by what she perceived as the "bravery" of my "struggle"
• Assessed my character as good
• Blessed me because clearly God had not or blessed me because I needed it or blessed me because my challenges teach unafflicted people how to feel more grateful for bodies that work as expected

That's fairly efficient for the amount of time our paths crossed! 

I waved and nodded in acknowledgement not knowing exactly what the appropriate response should be.

Let's take them one by one:

If she identified my walk as looking painful, I'll give her that. Walking is painful sometimes. If she identified my walk as some condition or disabling condition that falls outside her norm, that makes me very sad. Where are all of the people with disabilities and where on Earth do they buy groceries? Why is it so unusual to see someone moving through life with a gait that is a little different from any other bipedal creature?

If she felt inspired by what she perceived as the "bravery" of my "struggle", I'm not sure it's bravery at all. Bravery is, in my mind, running toward danger, standing up for people who can't, championing the underdog, or warning people when you have no duty, but you do have everything to lose. There isn't much bravery involved in returning a shopping cart to its parking spot. Call it courtesy, or shopping cart karma or whatever, but it isn't bravery unless you're doing it in a war zone. 

With regard to the "struggle" aspect of this interaction, I have wondered if she subconsciously tapped into the Religious Model of disability which claims the root of physical challenges is biblical and renders people somehow better or more angelic than non-disabled peers. How could she possibly know my character from the few seconds she watched me? She has one data point and decides that I am a good person? I didn't save a puppy, adopt a child, or plant a thousand trees. I could be an ax murderer with a limp for all she knows. 

She blessed me too. It's not that I'm going to turn that down. I'll probably always hedge the bet, but why did she feel like I needed a blessing in a grocery store parking lot? According to the Religious Model of disability, it's possible that suffering disabled people were the subjects of God's displeasure, evil spirits or witchcraft. Well, then that explains why I needed her blessing in the Publix parking lot and the fifteen other people who walked past her did not receive the same.

I'm not afflicted by the need to be liked by a stranger, smoking a Marlboro on a bench outside Publix. I don't need her approval or her blessing. I don't need to be lionized for returning my shopping cart sparing parked vehicles from the horrors of misguided, windblown, baskets with wheels. 

I'm just a person grocery shopping. My coupons are probably expired. I have knowingly checked out in the ten-items-or-less lane with 15 or 20 items. I have tasted the grapes. I have taken more than one sample. I probably parked my car too close to the line and I certainly have chosen not to return my cart to the corral on more than one occasion.

No. I'm just a person.