I was slow to hear about the situation with BBC children's television host Cerrie Burnell. Several online friends had mentioned some parents' tendencies to want to sanitize kids' lives from all but the most Disney-fied realities, but that could apply to anything from a racy web page to blowback from an appearance on an adult television program, as when the actor who used to star on Blue's Clues appeared on the gritty crime drama Homicide: Life on the Street. (Not as Steve; I could see why that'd be upsetting.) Check out the following video. I was shocked that Burnell had one arm. Not because her stump repelled me(Cerrie Burnell is almost the textbook definition of a morning-show cutie.) but because she wasn't billed as Our Very Special Guest, Cerrie With One Arm, the way she might have been here in the States, at least during my childhood in the '70s and '80s. I think it's great that(so far) she's been allowed to host, or present, as they say in the UK, on an equal footing with able-bodied people. It's great for the media, disabled people's careers, and ordinary disabled folk like myself, who suck in our breath and pray for invisibility at the mall or Chuck E. Cheese, either due to real kids' questions or parents hoping to head a difficult talk off at the pass. (Parents, please don't direct this conversation. If the kids ask, I don't mind, but your waiting expectantly makes me feel that I should never leave the house without psychologically-approved patter, in which case the government ought to share the wealth more generously.) All the same, I'm stoked by the thought that Cerrie, and others like her, might be here to lighten that particular load. What's not so great? Cerrie's been getting hate messages, and concern trolling about how her impairment, comparatively minor as it is, is upsetting some of her tiny viewers. If someone who comes so close to the traditional standard as Cerrie Burnell gets that response, what does that mean for UK-ers whose disabilities are more significant? Parents should recognize this as an opportunity to get real about their own feelings about physical difference, and try to teach their kids not to judge a book by its cover. In a sense, I'm not shocked, although my media endeavors generally involve my writing getting attention, not my physical being, but once, as a sort of social experiment,I wrote a dating-service profile in which my disability was somewhat hidden, just to see if I had that old dating chestnut, "a great personality." The initial response was gratifying; that two weeks was the closest I ever came to being chased. Some of the guys broke away from the herd, though, and so I decided it was time for the big reveal, which I had conned myself into believing would be no big deal, meeting of the minds and all that, but of course, it was, for all but one, who is still a trusted associate and occasional fantasy object. I mention this here, not because I expected them to date me after I lied to them, which, although I had my reasons,was a shitty thing to do, but because the lie didn't seem to be what had the angry dudes so pissed. I was shocked by the subtext, which seemed to be "How *dare* you turn out to be a cripple after I had convinced myself you were interesting!" (I was very careful not to invent a hang-gliding alter ego who was bored by the guys she met at the gym...I only referred to things I really like in my profile: Nick Hornby, progressive politics, a quick mind with a quip) but little did I know I was in the Disability Crying Game. That was, not advocacy, where I learned some people hate us in a bone-deep, knee-jerk repulsion sort of way, and that was the memory that Cerrie's message-board run-in brought back.

[ Fri, 27 Feb 2009 11:29:21 -0700 ]

Listen

Download

Listen on your iPhone