Rosemarie Garland-Thomson, New York Times, 19 August 2016
Not long ago, a good friend of mine said something revealing to me: “I don’t think of you as disabled,” she confessed. I knew exactly what she meant; I didn’t think of myself as disabled until a few decades ago, either, even though my two arms have been pretty significantly asymmetrical and different from most everybody else’s my whole life.
My friend’s comment was meant as a compliment, but followed a familiar logic — one that African-Americans have noted when their well-meaning white friends have tried to erase the complications of racial identity by saying, “I don’t think of you as black,” or when a man compliments a woman by saying that he thinks of her as “just one of the guys” ...
This is what it feels like to be prayed for because of my disability. And it's not ok
Carly Findlay, 29 August 2016
On a recent Friday evening, I finished work with the excitement of a weekend full of reading and cooking. I headed down to my local bookstore on the tram before going home. While I was on the tram, a woman offered me a seat. I smiled and thanked her but shook my head. I was only going a couple of stops.
That same woman followed me out of the tram, into a small shopping mall and down an escalator. As I browsed books, she tapped me on the back and whispered "I followed you here. Jesus loves you, beautiful. Jesus loves you."
This, no matter how well meaning, is not ok. Unwanted prayers are misplaced good intentions ...
My friend’s comment was meant as a compliment, but followed a familiar logic — one that African-Americans have noted when their well-meaning white friends have tried to erase the complications of racial identity by saying, “I don’t think of you as black,” or when a man compliments a woman by saying that he thinks of her as “just one of the guys” ...
This is what it feels like to be prayed for because of my disability. And it's not ok
Carly Findlay, 29 August 2016
On a recent Friday evening, I finished work with the excitement of a weekend full of reading and cooking. I headed down to my local bookstore on the tram before going home. While I was on the tram, a woman offered me a seat. I smiled and thanked her but shook my head. I was only going a couple of stops.
That same woman followed me out of the tram, into a small shopping mall and down an escalator. As I browsed books, she tapped me on the back and whispered "I followed you here. Jesus loves you, beautiful. Jesus loves you."
This, no matter how well meaning, is not ok. Unwanted prayers are misplaced good intentions ...
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