Olaf
Kula
Washington, D.C
“I self-identify as a cripple. I am proud to call myself a cripple. It has taken me a while to get to this point. Initially, I struggled to adapt, to fit in, to protect able bodied people from any inconvenience that my inability to walk might cause them. I assumed, incorrectly, that if I made it easy enough for others to ignore my disability, I would not be excluded from that large group characterized by their ableism.”
Ryan Roach: How do you identify?
Olaf Kula: I self-identify as a cripple. I am proud to call myself a cripple. It has taken me awhile to get to this point. Initially, I struggled to adapt, to fit in, to protect able bodied people from any inconvenience that my inability to walk might cause them. I assumed, incorrectly, that if I made it easy enough for others to ignore my disability, I would not be excluded from that large group characterized by their ableism. In the history of this country, inclusion into the halls of privilege has always required hiding or erasing anything that causes you to stand out against the status quo defined by white male ableists. Failure or refusal to conform condemns you to the ranks of an inferior underclass, tolerated, only to the extent that you do not make waves. As a white cripple, I know that I will be granted more concessions than either a Black brother or a crippled Black brother. As a white cripple, I am unlikely to be stopped by the police and questioned for the smallest infraction or none. I do not fear being asphyxiated or shot by overzealous police or neighborhood vigilantes. I do not live in fear that my door will be kicked in for no reason other than my crippledness, and even if it were, I would not fear that they would shoot me. As a white cripple, I am entitled to some of the privileges accorded to and by white ableists, but only if I behave like a good cripple. While I am a cripple as an individual, I am also proud to be a part of a Non- Abled community, however poorly I/ we are organized.
RR: What has your experience been like during the pandemic?
OK: The pandemic has largely been a great equalizer. Momentarily, even ableists are now disabled in their freedom to move. This has largely been a positive. My neighborhood grocery has early morning hours for seniors and PWD48. This is even better than parking spaces reserved for PWD. Because I avoid public transport, except for medical appointments, my world has shrunk to the distance I can roll my chair. I am grateful that this is a three-mile radius. Socially, our world has shrunk. Initially, it was fun to do virtual happy hours with friends. Now it is just another Zoom call. If you are more than three miles from my home, then you and Timbuktu are equidistant from me. In my line of work, one lives overseas implementing projects, or one works for the home office from wherever. I have many ableist colleagues who have worked from their homes for many years. The change brought on by the pandemic is that it normalized working from home for almost all of our staff. Most staff who were, up until recently, posted overseas are now working from home. Working from home, which was an accommodation both for ableist and disabled staff, has become the norm. Thus, I no longer have a disability with regards to being able to work. This is great until the ableists return to the office. I am concerned that, as things return to some new normal, those with a disability or particular vulnerability will be encouraged to continue working from home as ableist staff return to the office. This can very quickly fall into a separate but equal trap, which ends up always separate but never equal.
RR: What has your day-to-day been like during the pandemic?
OK: In many ways, life has been better. Before COVID-19, it took me 35 minutes to roll my wheelchair to the office, and 45 back home. Working from home, I now have an hour and 20 minutes time to spend as I wish. Usually, I wake up and begin work earlier, take a leisurely breakfast, or walk my dog and return to work. If I take more time off during the day, I work until later in the evening. I am a wheelchair user, over 60, and an asthmatic. I feel more vulnerable to infection by anti-maskers. I am 4’7” in my chair: People who do not wear masks are breathing – and therefore spraying – down on me. It is difficult not to take this as an aggressive act. On the whole, however, COVID-19 has created a new kind of civility. I greet strangers in passing with a, “Be safe,” and generally receive the same in return. In a mixed-race neighborhood in a time of Black Lives Matter, “be safe” takes on a double meaning.
RR: In what ways have you been coping during this time period?
OK: I no longer work out in a gym. Instead I work with a personal trainer using FaceTime. We do not socialize with friends as much, and when we do, we maintain social distancing. I miss hugging. I exercise more and am in better shape than before. We recently had a cocktail with our neighbors one floor below us and tied a basket to a string to pass drinks and snacks up and down between floors.
RR: During the pandemic, the government and media have deemed the chronically ill, disabled, and immunocompromised communities as “vulnerable.” What are your thoughts on the terminology of “vulnerable”?
OK: As a cripple, I have lived with that label for a long time already. Anti-maskers and the current administration’s view that the current number of COVID deaths is acceptable reminds me of Nazi death camps. We, the unfortunate and vulnerable, are just more likely to die. This is to be expected. The administration’s anti-response to COVID-19 is, at its worst, a form of eugenics.
RR: What are your thoughts on how the government and the media have been treating these populations they have deemed “vulnerable”?
OK: It depends on the media source. Ableist media to the right treats us either as victims, or a burden to ableist norms. Media on the center left rarely mentions us. Even rarer is the voice of the less-, or permanently or temporarily disabled. Overall, the media continues to be either benevolently or maliciously paternalistic.
RR: Over the past few months media correspondents and politicians have continuously talked about vulnerable populations yet rarely invite anyone from these communities to represent themselves or their communities. Why do you think that is?
OK: I believe that most advocates for vulnerable populations were already overworked and overstretched before the pandemic. We need to learn from our brothers and sisters of color and sexual orientation. Vulnerable populations must radicalize ourselves. We must invite ourselves to represent ourselves. As a relatively recent cripple, and in a time of Black Lives Matter, I realize that, in our failure to radicalize and become militant advocates for ourselves, we are only inviting greater paternalism from ableists. Here the pronoun ‘our’ is critical. All people marginalized by the narrow confines of ableist domains need to speak with a single voice. Our older brothers and sisters who fought for the ADA and Section 50449 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 have shown us the way. George H.W Bush signed the ADA into law, but it was the tireless activism of the radicalized disabled, that forced legislators to push for its passage. We need a new wave of the radically disabled.