#thinking about my friend who reacted to me using the word ''spastic'' to describe a character who was spasming

[charlemane]

i feel like fiction authors are so scared of using the word "psychotic" when it's actually the right word to use. read a book where one of the protagonists (who had just left inpatient treatment and lost his medication) asked his friends if they happened to have any "anti-hallucinatory" pills. not what they're called. the word you're looking for is anti-psychotics. but over the course of the entire book where one of the main characters experienced differences from reality, i don't remember the word "psychotic" ever being used seriously. you can't have a psychotic main character!

and in another book i'm reading now, the main character wonders if she's having a "hallucinogenic episode." not what they're called. not what "hallucinogenic" means. the word you're looking for is psychotic episode. egregious because mere moments later she describes an antagonistic character as a "psychotic killer," so like, okay, you know how to spell it, but apparently only when it's an insult. cool.

and like, we've seen this happen with other medical terminology around other disabilities. "r*t*rdation" used to be the accepted medical language for developmental delays and disabilities, until it got so inextricably entwined with insults that it's impossible to use neutrally, so the accepted language changed. and maybe that's inexorable but like, i don't want to watch psychotic and delusional become unsalvageable words. and part of that is people need to stop using them as insults and part of that is people need to stop being scared to use them when they're not insults

[brightlotusmoon]

So, did I ever share this on Tumblr? I don’t think I did. It is very important. I especially turn to it when searching for alternate words to use as insults, it has a great list of words that can be strung together for good effect. You can Google for alternatives to ableist words too. It’s great for creative writers. Now: Do please keep in mind that many disabled people, myself included, use some of the words ableist list for ourselves, to reclaim, to speak our own truth about each other. Example: I am lame. I am also “lame” - I am crippled, weak in one leg, limping. I use the word all the time. I still equate it with weak, unbalanced unable to properly stand without assistance. Disabled people who are lame who do not like the word, will ask me to not say it in their presence, so I stop. It’s simple as that. There are friends on Facebook who won’t tolerate “stupid” or “idiot” even if others think they are only mildly ableist. I stop using the words when I’m on their posts. Because of this, I have very slowly and casually removed many ableist words from my vocabulary. I call myself crazy. I have several crazies. I am crippled, I am as spastic spazz, I am stupid, I am an idiot, I’m even “R*ded”. People who are abled can sling those words as insults at me forever. It hurts. Yes, it hurts, like a knife to the chest. Emotional pain gives way to physical pain; it’s already been proven. Being called those words is supposed to hurt. That’s the point. But they can’t say that words don’t hurt and then dismiss actual consequences, they seem to revel in watching activists react. But the phrase “words don’t have power unless you give them power” can’t work on words that have a living history of medical and social hurt, disempowerment, dehumanization, marginalization, oppression, humiliation, murder, abuse, torture, a hundred ways to die for our existence and our resistence. The words have power precisely because of all that living weight given to them by those in authority, those who oppressed, the entire system that worked for hundreds of years to push disabled people into the darkness, into forgotten rooms, out of society, out of the way of communal progress. Once the words are used, actions can follow, and that means real, true harm. And yes, many disabled activists have strong reactions, while others, like me, shrug it off, roll their eyes, and remind people that the words discriminate against disability. People don’t care though, you’ve noticed that. As long as they incite a reaction, they’re entertained. Believe me, I’ve seen it all my life. I have several friends and family members who love to poke at me and listen to my “please stop saying those words” speeches with smug grins and the ready defense that “oh, we don’t mean the disabled, we mean assholes and jerks who hurt people” which compounds it even further by saying that terrible people are equated with disabled people. They can defend their privilege of not being concerned by simply being not-disabled. They keep forgetting that the entire reason these words exist is because society needed to describe the disabled, and those descriptions turned into terms of abuse and torment. Are we advocates and activists sensitive and emotional? Yup. Are we allowing ourselves to be hurt? Well, it’s not like we choose to feel stabbed. I can attempt to “allow” myself to “not feel hurt” - except I do. And only people with very little to no empathy toward me will realize that I have such feelings and I cannot just shoo them away. Trust me, I’ve been trying. It’s hard. I want to be a robot most days. So, technically we let ourselves feel hurt the way someone who got stabbed is letting themselves feel their receptors react to “oh, shit, we got cut open, there is pain, release the various neurochemicals needed to fade pain and boost energy! We gotta start healing this wound, no time to waste!” followed by the body doing the remarkable things it do to heal. There will be scabbing, and fresh tender skin beneath, and the body will remember that pain, and then there will be scars, and the scars will remember. Yeah. Words hurt. Like broken bones. And sometimes, we can ignore the hurting, we can look you in the eye and tell you to fuck off, we can laugh at the phrasing and say how funny it is because yeah we actually are crazy. But the body will remember. The brain will remember. The sticks and stones break us in the mind, no matter what we express. And often, it isn’t the actual words that hurt. It is the ideas and concepts and histories behind the words. If a word you use as an insult refers to mental illnesses, intellectual disabilities, etc, it is ableist. As long as a word refers to disability and is used as an insult, it is hurtful. An important thing to remember is this: If you don’t think you can stop using ableist words, that’s okay, but just remember that they are ableist. It’s not like you can change the world, but you can change your attitude toward the words. If someone tells you, “Hey, that word is ableist, could you please not use it while talking to me?” It is far easier to agree and apologize. It isn’t like we’re making you wear a shock collar or lock box on your larynx. If someone says, “Just so you know, that word is considered ableist” you can say something like “Oh, okay, I didn’t realize” and maybe it’ll lead to a conversation. In the privacy of your head or in private among friends you know well, say whatever you wish. But being more aware of where the words come from and what they mean goes a long way to being kinder and compassionate...and empathetic. I know empathy can be a lost skill, and lack of empathy is a real thing. But all I ask is that we remember what words can mean and how they are used. Language is a fantastic, ever-changing brilliance of a thing, and we shouldn’t forget that there are always new exciting ways to say things.