The Whole Mess

Notes from the middle of everything

Collector of contradictions, student of imperfection, and occasional meditator. Writing from the messy middle with equal parts honesty and humor.
Dating While Disabled: Care

Part 4 of 8
(…a continued reflection on Datable by Jessica Slice and Caroline Cupp)

Even though it’s been decades since the advent of the disability rights movement, it’s disheartening to see that the trope of the disabled person in an interbred relationship is portrayed as a burden and the nondisabled partner as a hero. A basic search will yield innumerable results discussing why it is completely natural and appropriate to leave a relationship simply because one person has a disability.

This is, in part at the very least, due to the deeply entrenched ableist belief that disabled people are “fundamentally deficient” (p. 181). As long as we’re seen as less than our nondisabled counterparts, it will be easy to assume that all we can do is take in a relationship without giving much, if anything, back in return.

Unfortunately, many disabled people internalize this deeply flawed message and assume that they are undeserving of care within their relationships. After all, “accepting and caring for one’s unique needs, which most disabilities require, is countercultural” (p. 131). Yet, we must remember that “being tough is not the ultimate achievement (p. 131),” but rather a reflection of ableist cultural values.

As Slice says:

“You will need a partner who can care for you. But what you don’t see yet is that you will also care for them. You are wise and thoughtful and loyal. In some ways, the life you offer to a partner is small, but in others, it’s beautiful and expansive. If you find someone who cannot recognize that, it’s not because you aren’t enough; it’s because they don’t yet understand. It’s not your job to stick around until they do.” (p. 102)

Of course, when a disabled person has internalized the message of unworthiness, we also believe that we should put up with any behavior by our partners, even if it’s abusive, or even simply no longer working for us. There’s this idea of “I’ll put up with this because he is putting up with me” (p. 104). It can also be easy to fall into the trap of wanting to prove to outsiders that you’re viable relationship material by putting up with a relationship that no longer serves you as a person.

After all, if we “feel like a burden, we will accept less than we deserve” (p. 106). When everyone is swiping left because of your disability, a sense of desperation can overtake you. Dating while disabled can leave you feeling like “someone is doing you a favor by being in a relationship with you. And then, if that relationship ends, it’s easy to wonder if anyone else will make that ‘sacrifice’” (p. 106). We deserve so much better.

All of this is far easier said than done. After all, many disabled people can become dependent on their partners for support and stability. And so, “risking a critical component of one’s daily survival is not an easy decision” (p. 104). It becomes far too easy to find oneself suddenly in a vulnerable and dangerous situation.

As Slice points out, with regard to abusive relationships specifically, “the real story of disabled breakups is that because policies keep disabled people impoverished, we are often forced to choose between two dangerous alternatives” (p. 105). She goes on to point out that “in those relationships, we often have to choose between staying with an abuser who will keep us housed and fed or face homelessness, inadequate medical care, and food insecurity” (p. 105).

Even in a non-abusive relationship, and including those who don’t rely on their partners for health care and housing, “the disruption of a breakup can still exacerbate symptoms and initiate additional health complications. For those of us with bodies that are sensitive to stressors, a shift in our primary attachment
dynamic can set us back months or years. The risk of that change is significant and, again, can make it harder to leave” (p. 105).

The reality is, in any healthy relationship, interabled or not, care is a two-way street. We have to widen our understanding of what it means to contribute to a relationship that isn’t based on capitalistic and patriarchal assumptions. There also needs to be significant legal reforms to prevent disabled people from getting stuck in relationships they don’t want to be in. These are fundamental human rights, and we deserve to have the opportunity to choose healthy relationships.

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