Reeve’s help for disabled had its limits
We waited almost a month to say anything here, because we didn’t want to appear disrespectful. But Marshall Mitchell and I were both buzzing all month about actor Christopher Reeve, who died Oct. 10 from medical problems related to his spinal-cord injury. Marshall, who teaches disability studies at Washington State University, has used a wheelchair for 36 years.
He’s a column regular because we’re hoping to generate an ongoing dialogue about the real issues – including discrimination – that confront citizens with disabilities. Reeve didn’t do as much to educate society about those real issues as you’ve been led to believe in the mainstream press. Disability experts have been chatting about this phenomenon for years on the Web.
No one disputes Reeve did much good by raising money and awareness for spinal-cord research. And Marshall applauds Reeve for pursuing acting, writing and directing after his injury, because those were the talents he was using in the world before his equestrian accident.
But Reeve’s intense focus on walking again sent a mixed message.
“He reinforced the stereotype that this disability is the most awful thing in the world,” Marshall explained. “If non-disabled people think it’s the most awful thing in the world, they’ll feel pity. It’s impossible to see someone as your equal when you pity them. If you don’t see them as equal, then you don’t see them as someone who has rights. You see someone who has a medical condition that needs curing. The emphasis is always on the medical condition, not the barriers placed on the person by society.”
Before he died, Reeve directed the cable-TV movie “The Brooke Ellison Story” shown in late October. Brooke was 11 years old when she was hit by a car. Her spinal cord was severed so high she required a respirator to breathe, as did Reeve.
The film chronicles Brooke’s Harvard University experience. Brooke’s mother leaves her other two children to move in with Brooke, who ultimately receives both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree. The real-life Brooke is now pursuing a Ph.D. at Stony Brook University.
The media gushed over the film, using all the “super-crip” euphemisms Marshall hates. Courageous. Heroic. Determined. Marshall was disappointed that the film glossed over real-life issues families face. For instance, when Brooke’s sister grows depressed, the mother basically tells her to snap out of it and look to Brooke as a brave example.
“When you have someone in a family with an injury, the focus turns to that person at the peril of all the other family members,” Marshall said. “Parents often ignore the siblings until a serious problem occurs. Then they don’t have time or energy to deal with them. If you are going to make a movie about this, talk about those issues.”
He also wonders what Brooke – who was very bright before her accident – was supposed to do with that incredible brainpower after her injury. Why not Harvard? Making it a big deal fuels the stereotype that people with disabilities are expected to sit home and live off the government.
And the mother, by moving into Brooke’s Harvard life in such an intense way, enabled Harvard to shirk some of its responsibilities. The law requires institutions to provide reasonable accommodations for students with disabilities.
Marshall also believes that in order to truly mature, young people with disabilities (just like those without disabilities) need to take risks and break free of their parents.
When Marshall moved away from home to study for his master’s degree, his only assistant up to that point had been his mother. Marshall hired an assistant and negotiated buildings, streets and facilities in the disability-unfriendly ‘70s.
“It must have scared my parents, but they let me do it,” he said.
Reeve was a human being with many gifts and a few flaws, just like the rest of us. And he was a person with a disability. Marshall worries now that Reeve will be remembered only as the quintessential “Super Crip.” And that would be the biggest disrespect of all.