Mentally Challenging...

There are a lot of social stigmas around "mentally challenged" people. Our language here in the U.S. reflects our attitudes about people who have mental illnesses. We call people “retards” when we are commenting on something that they did that was sub-standard. I’m guilty of it too. The word is thrown around as if it is something that those people can change, like an ugly hat or mismatched shoes. This is how we take away the dignity of those people. We use their “problems” as insults, and most of them probably don’t even realize it!

Those people are not any different than we are. They just have to go about their lives in different ways. It’s like anyone with a “disability”, permanent or temporary. As I discussed in my Milton post, those people have to overcome obstacles and in doing so have a higher development of their other senses. People who are “mentally challenged” (whatever you want to call it), are simple...more things make them happy more easily. They aren’t constrained by the same day-to-day stresses that we have.

The example I keep coming up with to restore the dignity of those people is through a comedian (shock, surprise).  Ralphie May discusses the use of the word “retarded” in our vernacular. For as comedic as it’s supposed to be, he does make interesting points.

The segment comes in two clips. The first is his intro and the second is a story about his friend.

Ralphie May- Retarded

Ralphie May- Rusty

His story about Rusty is a short (albeit, slightly crude) statement on tolerance... later on in the segment (the clip ends very abruptly) he summarizes by discussing how much happier “retarded” people are than the rest of us because they have the capacity to appreciate the little things in life.

I think that we can go all the way back to Kateb and say that every human has dignity and when we engage in acts that harm another’s dignity we are also harming ourselves. We should mentally challenge ourselves to watch how we use our language and how it affects the dignity of others.

Dealing With Disability... My Milton Moment

Last week’s experiential learning was really eye-opening (horrible pun, I’m sorry) in many ways. It really highlighted the difficulties that people with disabilities face, and I can now appreciate their hardships in light of how easy it is for me to do things. It’s not that I didn’t care before… but thinking about those people along with the implications for their dignity has, in a way, made me care more. I appreciate what I have, and I appreciate people with disabilities who are making the most of what they have. 

Our reflective discussion about blindness stuck with me the most. It was interesting to hear other people’s perspectives on blindness and their experiences with blind people or their reactions to the activity. I have often wondered what it would be like to be blind, and I still find it hard to imagine, even after our experiential learning. All I know is that I am amazed at, impressed with, proud of, etc. people who are blind and the ways that they overcome that obstacle. Whether blind from birth or not, I’m impressed either way. I continued to mull it over this week, and as I was reading Milton’s Paradise Lost, the light bulb in my head clicked on.

John Milton went completely blind in 1652. He had already written a number of sonnets and other works, and one would think that writing would have to stop when sight stopped, right? Wrong. Milton actually “wrote” his epic poem Paradise Lost in the 1670s by dictating it to his daughter (I believe). He also continued to write other essays and poetry, including this sonnet that he wrote soon after he had gone blind:

When I Consider How My Light Is Spent 

When I consider how my light is spent, 

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, 

And that one talent which is death to hide 

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 

My true account, lest He returning chide; 

"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" 

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need 

Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best 

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state 

Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed, 

And post o'er land and ocean without rest; 

They also serve who only stand and wait." 

Now here is a man who has overcome his disability. This sonnet speaks to a lot of the things that we brought up in our discussion, mainly the question of “What would you do if you became blind now, after having eyesight all your life?” How would you react if your “light” were suddenly “spent” (extinguished)? Milton accepts it. He appreciates the light that he was given before, and understands that he can continue to serve his God (he was a Puritan, by the way), even without the gift of sight.

Blind people are not without sight. If anything, they have more. The other senses become heightened, and I believe that includes some senses that those of us with eyesight don’t know that we have. In a way, people with disabilities are more appreciative of their dignity because they have to work harder to uphold it in this world of people who can see. It’s easier for us with eyesight to violate dignity because we only see without really looking. We rush without appreciating. We aren’t as careful as we should be because we are caught up in superficiality and make judgment calls based on what we see without taking the time to go deeper.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that we should maybe take a cue from Milton (if nothing else) and recognize the gifts we’re given that are more than just what we can see. We should appreciate them both in ourselves and in others.