How come when mediocre white men (and one pretty good woman character in recent memory) blow up shit in media no one bats an eye, and it’s celebrated most of the time?
But when a bisexual character (who happens to be a white man too in this case) with mental illness(es) who -gasps- has justified feelings of hurt and anger at his oppressors decides to blow up a building that was a symbol of oppression…it’s somehow bad?
And furthermore…a lot of you later go on and excuse another character who wants to commit mass genocide???
Guys. Guys. I’m seriously doubting Anders blowing up a fucking building is the real reason you hate him…
hearing people talk about Autism Sp**ks and trying not to go ham on them about how terrible they are, and once you get the courage to speak up and say “this bothers me and i know better because im autistic,” they have totally tuned you out and are not listening at all anymore. ironic.
And then listen to me because I’m about to expose an example of abled privilege because this is ridiculous.
Keep in mind that I haven’t actually leapt onto the Hamilton bandwagon, mainly because I haven’t had the time to sit down and listen to the songs, but I sincerely respect Lin Manuel Miranda and am sure that it’s fantastic. That being said, I don’t have this extreme urge to go see it immediately. This is more just pointing out the principle of the matter. And what principle is that?
You can go to Hamilton next week.
You can literally order tickets right from the theatre box office, 100% legit, straight from the source, guaranteed tickets to Hamilton next week.
Check it out:
Grab your Eggo waffles kids because not one, not two, but eleven seats are available from the box office to see Hamilton.
And that’s just authentic legit 100% real box office tickets.
If you’re buying them secondhand, you have the pick of the litter.
Now riddle me this:
How many of those available seats are wheelchair accessible?
“A ballpoint banana?”
No, no, you’re close but the answer is zero.
Zero of those seats are wheelchair accessible.
“But marauders4evr, you dashingly beautiful woman, you,” says thee, “how do you know that they’re not wheelchair accessible?”
Excellent observation and excellent question.
You see, they show the amount of wheelchair accessible seats on the map.
All right, folks, you answered one incorrectly now how about another one.
RIddle me this:
Out of that entire theater, how many seats are wheelchair accessible?
The answer is two.
All right, this is where research comes into play. And math.
According to the official website, the Richard Rodgers Theatre has 1,319 seats.
And according to the map, of those seats, 2 are wheelchair accessible. (Oh and by the way, all wheelchair accessible seats are are places where you can park your chair. You still have to pay the same price as a ticket to have a tiny piece of floor reserved for you.)
That means out of the entire theater, less than 1% (0.2% to be precise) of the seats are for people in wheelchairs.
It’s also a ratio of 1:170. Which means that for every 170 chances that an abled person gets to see Hamilton, a person in a wheelchair gets 1 chance.
Or, if you look at it another way, an abled person is 170x more likely to get a seat to Hamilton than a person in a wheelchair.
“Pfft. Math? Who needs math? Why don’t you just call the box office and see when teh next wheelchair accessible seats are available?”
*Insert Jim Carrey laugh here*
Oh, I did.
So just to recap. Any abled person can go into the theatre next week and buy 100% authentic box office tickets to see Hamilton. You could technically get secondhand tickets for tomorrow’s show if you wanted to. But even assuming that you don’t, you have to wait one week. Not even.
How long do I have to wa—
I have to wait until April.
According to the woman in the box office, there are no accessible seats available until April.
If a person in a wheelchair wants authentic Hamilton tickets, they have to wait until April.
They have to wait six months to see Hamilton. Thirty weeks. Whereas at the maximum, an abled person only has to wait a week.
So don’t you dare tell me that Hamilton is hard to get into unless you’re someone in a wheelchair hoping to get one of two seats in the entire theater.
It’s 2016; why do anti-sjws STILL think that it’s edgy to use “autistic” and “faggot” as insults? I mean it never should have been acceptable, because autistic people and gay people are actual people with feelings. And then they’ll go on the longest rants about how it’s not okay to hate straights, no self-awareness, I swear. And it’s even sadder because most of the people I’ve seen doing this are in their late twenties, and they still haven’t grown out of their 12-year-old edgelord phase.
This article is an open letter written by a dear personal friend of mine, and posted to facebook and elsewhere. thedisclosed.com got ahold of it and published it, too. It’s about her recent experience trying to fly on Air Canada as an LVAD patient, meaning she is in heart failure and has a device implanted in her chest that is keeping her blood pumping, and keeping her alive, till the time she may receive a transplant. It is a largely invisible ailment, and she ‘doesn’t look ill’ until she is exhausted and on the verge of an event, both of which can happen easily. So if you didn’t know otherwise, you might just think she is a lovely, perky young woman who is always carrying a bag on her right side (she has to).
She basically prepared ahead, did everything ahead that she should’ve, such as asking ahead of time for assistance, getting letters from her doctor for her extra, lifesaving carry-on equipment, setting up wheelchair service to transfer between flights, and still, she had an awful experience.
If any of my followers are disability advocates, or disabled and considering flying anytime soon, please read and/or share this on tumblr, or any site.
My fuckin TEACHER after we had a class talk on mental illness: "wait so you've been professionally diagnosed with bipolar type 1 at age 15?? What did you do to get that serious diagnosis? Try and murder someone?"
I don’t really understand why people keep associating sapiosexuality with asexuality? They’re nothing alike, as “sapio-” people still feel sexual/romantic attraction(just to those they deem as “intelligent”). Please stop comparing asexual/aromantic identities to this incredibly ableist concept, when many of of us a-specs are neurodivergent/disabled.
Me: *explains that everything is a challenge and lists the symptoms of depression I have* Sister: you're just lazy and a%mention seeking Me: ok but what about all these symptoms of anxiety and bpd I have? S: ugh. You really want attention don't you?
uhh more vrnty
the same person was v ableist against ppl with pds and kept sayin i wasnt like other ppl w pds and like made fun of my autism and bpd symptoms esp when i didnt understand stuff it was so bad why did i stay in that relationship
In class we were learning about behaviour therapy (punishment/reinforcement for specific behaviours; e.g. ABA and other therapies) and one of the "limitations" was that there is a LOT of research articles talking about how this can be problematic, ..
(Cont.) But then they try to “disprove” the literature by commenting on the [bad] quality of these articles.
(Cont.) Also the prof was talking about how if the individual cannot choose for themself (either is a child or severely mentally disabled) then their caregiver can choose this type of therapy for them despite the fact that it is severely manipulative
“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”
We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”
I want to become a tour guide of one of those haunted asylum tours. I’d sort of hunch over in my wheelchair, wrapped in a cloak, greeting the people. They’ll be nudging each other, waiting to hear about the crazies.
I’ll beckon them with a single finger, wheeling backwards, letting the darkness consume me. They’ll follow, inch by inch, already trembling with adrenaline.
We’ll enter the asylum. It will be dark. Gloomy.
“Take your seats,” I say.
They’re confused but comply, feeling in the dark, finally reaching a table. They can’t wait. They have their cameras prepared.
Somebody asks if you can still hear the patients’ screams in the corridors.
“Well,” I say, “you can hear someone’s screams.”
Without warning, the door crashes shut. We hear a lock. People start screaming. Panicking. At that moment, the lights come on. We’re sitting in a lecture hall. I whisk off my cloak to reveal a perfectly tailored suit.
“All right, folks,” I say. “Let’s talk about how every single horrifying event that happened in asylums was a direct result of the doctors and nurses committing medical malpractice rather than the patients themselves, shall we? We’ll start with Rosemary Kennedy. Someone get the lights. I have a PowerPoint.”