I am all too aware of the power that words can hold. I began writing about my experiences living with cerebral palsy (and eventually, anxiety and sensory processing disorder) when I was seven years old. I have been teased and bullied, belittled and mocked—and on the absolute opposite side of things—praised and comforted, and been given kind feedback and validation. Yes, words are powerful, for better or for worse.
This year, my eyes have opened more and more to this fact. After being referred to by a not-so-nice word describing my disability during an interaction with my teacher and having joined The Mighty—through which I’ve read countless articles furthering the debate between identity-first (i.e., disabled person) or people-first (person who has a disability; person with a disability) language—I have discovered what exactly is my “pet peeve” surrounding language that describes disabilities (and mine, specifically).
So I compiled a list of words that people often use to describe cerebral palsy—and disability in general—that I don’t care for. And no, I don’t believe that I am being too personal. It is okay that I don’t like how people sometimes talk about my challenges. Also, this list may not offend everyone with CP.
Handicapped
Definition: unable to use part of your body or your mind in the way that most people do because it has been damaged; to place at a disadvantage
I have always had an issue with the word “handicapped”. I don’t know why exactly; only that the word rubs me the wrong way. From what I’ve seen, I’m generally alone in my dislike of this word, but it irritates me to no end. I feel that the word “handicapped” implies that my disability—cerebral palsy—holds me back, when that is anything but the truth. My having cerebral palsy has allowed me to meet some of the most amazing people on the planet. I have been able to write articles about my experiences for The Mighty, the Cerebral Palsy Foundation, MSN, and have been able to start my own blog. I have discovered truths about myself that may not have been possible had I not had CP. I could go on, but I digress. The point is, most of the time I am proud to have cerebral palsy. It definitely isn’t easy, and it causes me to struggle physically, but I am not held back because I have cerebral palsy.
Another reason why I have a problem with “handicapped” is because there is such a negative connotation to it. You always hear stories of people complaining because so-and-so parked in the “handicapped” parking spot—even if they have a placard—or because they don’t “look ‘handicapped’”. I know I have been told this. The reality is that invisible disabilities are more common than people think. And yes, it definitely irritates me when people who don’t have the placard park in a reserved space—but that’s not me judging their disability, it’s me being disappointed that they choose to park in a space that they don’t have the tag for.
Retarded
Definition: less advanced in mental or physical capacity; foolish or stupid
I might be wrong in saying that everyone in the disability community hates this word, but I certainly do. It is highly offensive to someone who has an intellectual disability, and frankly, I don’t like being called this word either.
My cerebral palsy does not affect me cognitively. The only areas that my CP affects are my legs and the dexterity in my hands. It might contribute to my sensory difficulties at times as well, but I don’t know that.
Nonetheless, some of my classmates seem to think that the word “retarded” describes absolutely anyone who has a disability, regardless of the type or how offensive that the word is now regarded to be.
I was called “retarded” after not understanding a suggestive reference. (To be honest, I’m pretty sheltered from a lot of the things that other teenagers tend to talk about, so there are plenty of times where I’m in the dark.)
I’m sad to say that the words “ __tard”, “retard”, and “retarded” are pretty quick to come from the mouths of most teenagers as an insult when others do something wrong. Most of my classmates are aware that I need extra help physically, but that doesn’t prevent some of them from using this word anyway.
The word “retarded” is outdated and extremely hurtful. Please be mindful of that, and the fact that some challenges are invisible. Err on the side of caution.
“sped”
Definition: an insult when someone does something deemed ‘idiotic’
Ughhh, this word. Students devised this word from the self-contained “special-education” classes. However, younger people now refer to others as “special-ed”, meaning that they should be in those classes because of their inability to do something. Of what that something is that’s required, I have no idea. The ability to fit in? I don’t know, and I don’t care.
No one should use “special-ed” or “sped” as an insult. It’s not insulting to be in those classes. There are people who need special education classes, and that’s not a bad thing.
I have been called “sped” because of the way I walk, because I tend to lose my balance, and because I don’t understand so many of the jokes that many others my age use.
Most kids think that “sped” is just another insult that is commonly used in my school, but it’s not. It is an offensive term that subtly puts down people who do have intellectual challenges. One boy literally jumped out of his chair to yell “Sped!” out at me when I asked a question. It makes me grit my teeth in annoyance every time I hear it. I am the first to call my classmates out when they use this type of language, and my teachers have started to do so as well.
“Spaz”
Definition: one who is inept; to lose physical or emotional control
“Spaz” is an abbreviated word that means “spastic”. Because “spaz” is not a medical term like “spastic”, many people think it is just a word used to describe someone who is clumsy. Oftentimes, that is what “spaz” is used for, but it’s offensive.
“Spastic” is a medical word that is used to note how tight something is. For example, my hamstrings and most of my leg muscles have a lot of spasticity. The type of CP I have is spastic diplegia cerebral palsy. In fact, on average, 77% of people diagnosed with cerebral palsy have spastic CP.
With that in mind, using “spastic” or “spaz” with a negative connotation offends quite a large number of people.
The only experience I have hearing the word “spaz” comes from my seventh grade year. A boy repeatedly dropped his pencil. When he picked it up for the third time, he said the words in a tone full of scorn that I will never forget:
“I’m such a spaz; I have cerebral palsy.” He laughed so hard while I froze, my anger growing rapidly.
Because that boy didn’t have cerebral palsy. He didn’t have an IEP. He didn’t have a physical therapist pull him out of class. He didn’t fall down twice a week.
And he thought that cerebral palsy was just dropping a pencil and picking it back up.
Anyway….
“Spaz” should not be a word used to pull someone down. It’s not bad to have spasticity like I do, like approximately 13,475,000 people have globally.
The people who use the words “spaz” or “spastic” to insult each other have no idea what having spasticity really means. I’d like to change that.
“Crippled” or “crip”
Definition: severely damaged or malfunctioning; out of working order; to make useless or powerless
I could go on and on with this word. I absolutely hate it. My teacher referred to me as “crippled” to make another girl, who had a broken leg at the time, and no physical disability, feel welcome. I am not malfunctioning. Some people could argue that my body does not work the way that a human body is supposed to, but I don’t care. God designed me—and every other person with CP—this way, so it is the way I’m meant to be. I am not out of working order. No one who has challenges is out of working order. I can still do plenty of things, regardless of whether I am slightly more limited in the physical aspects. Lastly, no one is useless. I was put on this Earth for a reason, and my belief is that reason is to help others and speak for people with disabilities who cannot speak on their own. The only thing I am “crippled” by is the people who tell me my worth. A lot of people think that worth is determined by what you can do physically, but nothing is further from the truth. No one’s worth is just one thing. I am not my legs, and no one else is, either.
“Freakazoid”
Definition: a person who is physically deformed; a freakish creature; to behave in a wild or irrational way
I was told that I was a freakazoid by a kid when I overreacted to a touch. I have sensory processing disorder, so touch feels different to me than it does to most people. My cerebral palsy also causes me to have hypersensitivity, which is why it hurts sometimes when I am touched.
You never know what differences someone may have, and how those differences may cause someone to act. Just because someone acts differently does not mean that they are freakish or behaving irrationally.
“Wrong” (as in, “What’s wrong with you?”)
Definition: Unwanted; not in conformity
I cannot count how many times I have been asked, “What’s wrong with you?” From what I’ve read and heard, that is (unfortunately) a common question in the disability community, and it shouldn’t be.
My CP is not an unwanted quality—at least not for me. While I am frustrated with the lack of control I have over my legs, that doesn’t mean I would want to change the fact that I have cerebral palsy. I wouldn’t.
While people who do not have a disability (sometimes referred to as the able-bodied community; more on that later) might view physical disabilities as undesirable or “wrong”, I certainly don’t.
And yes, having a disability might not be considered in conformity, but it’s not that far off, either. Given the fact that 26% of Americans have a disability, it’s not like it’s rare to have a physical or mental difference that goes against the norm (whatever that is).
No matter what anyone might tell me, having CP is not wrong. If you’re curious about a disability or difference, find a different word to use than “wrong”.
“Able-bodied” vs. “Disabled”
Most people who have a disability are divided about the language they use to express their disability. Basically, language differs from person to person. For example, some people might not find the word “crippled” offensive. And as surprising as that is to me, those same people might not understand why I do find “crippled” offensive.
The same is true for the way having a disability is expressed as a part of identity. Most people who know me can tell that I prefer what is called “person-first” language. This means that I prefer someone to say, “Caroline is a person who has a disability” rather than, “Caroline is a disabled person.”
While cerebral palsy is undoubtedly a part of my identity, it’s not the only part. And I don’t really consider myself disabled. Yes, I struggle—but my physical ability (or lack thereof) is not my only ability. So I’m not entirely disabled, in my opinion. No one is.
That being said, I respect everyone’s choices, and just because I may see a situation differently than someone else, when in their company, I will abide by their choice.
Additionally, I have trouble calling the people who don’t have a disability “able-bodied”. Because my body is still able to do things. While I understand this is not always the case for everyone, I am able to breathe and to blink and to speak and to walk, etc. The way I see it, the job of the human body is to house a soul.
Being disabled—if that is the way one chooses to see him- or herself—is not a bad thing. But having a disability instead of being disabled is the way I would rather see myself.
And I probably won’t like calling other people “able-bodied”. It makes me uncomfortable.
I am proud of who I am, and I like myself enough to use the language that I’m comfortable with. To my fellow people who have a disability, I would encourage you to use the language you are comfortable with, too.
To those who sometimes struggle finding the words to describe a disability, I would advise you to talk to someone who does have that challenge. I know that I personally find the above words offensive, but that might not apply to everyone.
Above all, just be kind—because there are disabilities that are invisible.