Racism

6/19/21

I'm now seeing racism in America through the tense of the intergenerational trauma I've experienced, known as Parental Narcissistic Abuse. End cycles of abuse and recognize the caste system that plays out in systematic racism. I wonder where ableism is in the caste system?

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 2007

'There are two things about racism I've learned in my 28 years.
Racism is taught.
Racism is sometimes perpetrated by that race itself.

Yes, I'd be pissed too if I could only trace my ancestry to slaves. Yes, I'd be pissed that it took so long for the law to change to give me equal rights. But there comes a time you have to stop hanging on to the anger and persevere. I think of the Irish. They came to this country and were treated so badly. Rather than stew in it, they pushed forward. They created a parade to show homage to Ireland. Many horrible acts were committed against them. Still they made a place for themselves in this country. Now on March 17th people say they're Irish even when they aren't. They participate in that parade and the actual Irish embrace that. They don't criticize or hate people who want to be like them.It seems like this thread has a lot of reversed racism. I ask a question and suddenly I'm the racist. Where does that lead society as a whole? Can't we interact with each other without anger? Maybe people are uncomfortable by me asking a simple question because they themselves are racist? My curiosity was formed through what I observe, not an assumption. There are patterns that are in a race. It's what makes up your culture. Does it make me a horrible person if I ask a question about something I don't understand outside of my race?

That chip on your shoulder is holding you back. Can't you see that? Open your eyes.'



This messsage ABOVE was a result of defending myself after I posted a question in the Pearl Jam chat board. The question I had was involving African Americans and AC/DC concert shirts. The thread had around 600 hits in less then two days.
To read the whole mind numbing thread visit: http://www.ivykennedy.com/chat/ac.dc.htm



UPDATE: 
A few hours later. From this chat thread I have learned that when I observe a change in a culture that sparks my curiosity and question that change, I'll most likely be called a racist. Which leads me to think about how that type of reaction effects my situation. Are people afraid to ask me about my disability? Do they think I'll lash out at them? I want people to feel free to learn how I cope with my disability. How can people understand if they can't ask questions? If more people were more opened-minded (by asking questions) I would maybe feel more accepted in society.

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UPDATE: 3/21/08 
I've recently gotten really into this PBS series. It made me laugh and cry. I think schools should work part of this into their curriculum...seriously. It's a real eye opener.

A genealogist hunts down celebrity's family trees. To name a few: Oprah, Chris Tucker, Tina Turner.He tries to trace their family back to Africa.I learned things my school history books left out about the South! You have to watch this!
PS. there's a part 2 also. rent both at blockbuster online. African American Lives

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UPDATE: 5/3/08 
Change: people hate it, and everything that's different I went to Indiana last weekend. a friend from high school got married. as we were driving thru the towns it struck me that they all were exactly the same. even the old country towns....they were like other country towns. we as a nation really haven't changed in that sense. people by nature stay the same. I mean just look at the towns......all the same! I hear people say change is good but in my opinion I feel they truly don't believe that. we are different and not the 'same' due to our disabilities. it's my opinion that if people liked change we as a disabled community wouldn't have to fight so hard. true, disabled have been around since the beginning of time, but yet we are still the minority. we always will be. that being said and from what my opinion is about people not liking change(liking everything the same) do you think the disabled community at one point would be able to stop fighting for their rights? Will there ever come a time where we will be 'equal?'

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UPDATE 9/28/08 
I started a chat thread........subject: Chicken or the egg (what causes racism?)

a. Black people are treated differently, so they behave badly.

Or

b. Black people behave badly, because they are treated differently. which is it?

To read what people had to say: http://www.theforumsite.com/forum/topic/Chicken-or-the-egg-what-causes-racism-/251727

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UPDATE 12/31/08 
Jeff Henderson was on Oprah today. He grew up in slums. He's black. He had no father. The role models he had were drug dealers. And of course he became one. He said something like when you're that poor you turn the other cheek when an opportunity to make a lot of money comes a long. He was busted and spent 9 years in jail. While there he discovers he's a talented chef. Then Oprah asks him what he had to do to become the famous Las Vegas chef he is today. Jeff says he had to shed his inmate appearance….slim down, cover his earring hole with makeup. He had to learn to walk differently, how to shake hands and to talk differently.

Two thoughts:

If a poor uneducated black kid can catch on to that….to assimilate to the white corporate world, why can't more African Americans try do that? I see some African Americans behave so 'ghetto' that I find myself feeling sorry for them. But on the other hand maybe if they do change they'll feel like they'll be turning their back on their culture by becoming something else.

Secondly, the 'Music Within' movie and Jeff reminded me of one core idea. It's not our (my) fault the disabled community hasn't been better accepted in society. It's people's perceptions that need to change. I don't need to change they do. Jeff was able to change himself thus it helped him succeed. You can't 'change' a disability.

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UPDATE: 4/4/14  
Why I think African American Awareness Month is also Total Bull:
https://www.facebook.com/ivy.kennedy/posts/10151974144350780



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Crowded out in handicapped-parking space (newsarticle by me)

The Virginian Pilot - Commentary
Crowded out in handicapped-parking space
BY IVY KENNEDY

5/7/06

So you’re out shopping at the mall and at the last stop of the day. The parking lot, the size of a football stadium, is full; all but a few empty disabled parking spaces. They are so close to the store, it’d really save your aching feet. You won’t be there for long anyway. Who’s it going to hurt?



This is what I imagine people are saying to themselves when I can find only one measly disabled parking spot. Most shopping centers have more than enough, so it boggles my mind when all of them are taken. Could all of these people possibly be disabled or elderly?




Then I finally nab a spot. I glance over and watch as somebody zips into the disabled parking space next to me. The person quickly hops out of his car and rushes into the store as if a fire were lit underneath them. But not before making sure the disabled parking tag is out of the glove box and securely hanging on the rear-view mirror.


I sit there dumbfounded. How did this person come to possess one of these tags? I have cerebral palsy and use a power wheelchair. And this is the one of many obstacles I face every time I venture out. It’s a type of annoyance that can slowly pick at you until you are having a “Falling Down” daydream. You know, that movie where Michael Douglas has a breakdown after he missed breakfast at McDonald’s by five minutes.


The family and friends I go out with seem more frustrated about it than I am. I’ve just learned to control my feelings. Who am I to think that I’ll change people’s justification with my “Stupidity is not a disability, park elsewhere!” bumper sticker?


Then comes the anxiety of dealing with the poorly laid out hash marks, which are supposed to allot me enough room to get out of my van. In most cases, they are only wide enough to lower my lift. I reach the ground and I find myself right up against the car parked beside me.


How am I expected to drive my power chair off my lift with two inches between my knees and a car door?


OK, so there’s disabled parking specifically set aside for vans that alleviates this problem. But the same debacle occurs; people who don’t need them have taken them. Or somebody who has every right to park in a disabled only spot insists on taking the van space when there’s another open disabled space nearby.


This situation happened to me one night at a restaurant. The car ahead of me swung into the van spot while I was left with the spot designed for somebody using a walker.


As I took the paint off the door of the car next to me trying to maneuver, he was helping grandma out of their car. Maybe I could talk to them and try to get at least one person to understand.


“Do you know you parked in the van space?”


“Yes, for my mother.”


“Yeah, I know you have a disabled tag, but this is the only spot wide enough for my chair.”


The man looked lost and left his car right where it was.


People just don’t understand. The average person living in Hampton Roads doesn’t have these problems. That’s probably why it continues with no end in sight.


I’ll just have to hold my head high and not let this one little thing get to me. But if you’re reading this, remember my view the next time you’re in a full parking lot.



• Ivy Kennedy is a member of the disability advocacy group at the Endependence Center and a volunteer for the disabled. More of her articles on coping with a disability are on her Web site www.geocities.com/ivykennedy

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Read feedback from my community. good and bad.

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The day I had my “wisdom” teeth out

9/16/05

Like the majority of us, I had to get my wisdom teeth pulled. The doc wanted to do it at Children’s Hospital, which I was fine with me. In fact, I was more comfortable there; I didn’t have to worry about people being freaked about my disability. One less thing to worry about, people not understanding my needs. Boy, was I wrong.

The day of the surgery they call us in early. Which was great, because it wasn’t the fact they had to come out, it was the waiting that was killing me. Mom took me of course, on her day off. We ended up getting off on a different exit, the one that didn’t give a scenic view of the ghetto. Because of that, we were on the wrong side of the hospital, couldn’t find any handicapped parking. We followed bubble-butt signs, to a parking garage, and proceeded to find a spot there. We assumed that because it was designated handicapped, that a van would be able to park on the first floor…wrong. Top of the van hit the warning bar, and the garage guy (who’d been watching all along, and didn’t say anything) came running. I thought mom was going to go off, I would have. “You saw us before we drove in here, why didn’t you say anything?!” But she didn’t say anything, just followed his directions to back the van out. Like I said before, we were on the wrong side, so there where no handicapped spots. At the time I didn’t realize that, “Where the hell is handicapped?” He parked us by an unused ticket booth, marked with orange cones. I’m surprised we didn’t find a ticket on the windshield later that day, that’d be our luck. When I got out, I talked to him some. Basically said that there were many parking garages in the city that were tall enough for my van. And that we just assumed when we saw the disabled sign directing us were to go, we would be fine. Nobody understands.

I was weighed for the first time, in god knows how long. I was excited that I would finally know my true weight, and was happily surprised when I found out I’d been estimating 10 pounds over what it really was. They weigh you on what looks like truck scales, weigh the chair, then the chair with you in it. Subtract the difference. Before we got to the room, I explained it to mom. The absurd thing was, they asked me to take off my sandals. Now think for a second, how heavy can my sandals be, and what difference is that going to make on a scale that’s equipped for heavy duty weighing? We both made comments about, but the aides just went about their business. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS.

I figured that with me being in a hospital, it was just a matter of time until they ask me for a urine sample. Before I used the bathroom I asked…”No, we don’t need one”, “Are YOU sure?” “We don’t”…“Are you POSITIVE?” Then after they start questioning me and finding out I’m sexually active, THEN they want a urine sample! What, just because I’m disabled there’s no way I have a sex life? Stupid people. It’s extremely hard for me to give a sample, and there was no way they were getting one from me now that I’ve gone. Only other way was to give me a blood test. I’m guessing that they didn’t want spend the money for that, so I got the “anesthesia may hurt you fetus” lecture. Right in front of mom too, lovely. I should’ve just pee’d a cup for the heck of it, rather they if needed it or not. Nobody understands.

Now for the grand finale! Who the hell knows why they asked me to be there early. We waited for 3 hours, part of the hospital rooms even changed shift we were there so long, so we had to go back out to the waiting room. We were the only ones there, like he’d forgotten about me. When the nurse came in to get me, “Kennedy?” “I guess so, being I’m the only one here.” She took me back to the operating table. By then I was so tired of waiting that I was actually excited that it was my turn. I pulled up to the table, saw it was way too high, asked if it could be lowered. Nope. “I guess you all are going to have to pick me up.” Now before I got out of my chair I showed them the off and on switch to my joystick. I was sure they knew where it was. Ok, so I’m up on the table trying to drift off to LalaLand with the little mask…. all I hear is them bickering and fussing over the chair. I push the mask off to figure out what the racket is about. “Oh well, they’ll figure it out.” I try to relax with the mask again. Will this surgery ever get on its way? Here I was, about to get cut, and all I can think about is what are they doing to my damn chair! I just couldn’t relax with all that going on out the corner off my eye. Four highly educated people, and not one of them could figure out one switch. One last time I push off the mask, rise up on my elbows, look over at them and holler, “Jesus Christ, I told you where the switch was!” I was through, LalaLand take me away from these freankin idiots. I remember thinking by then, I hope they ran themselves over with the chair. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS.

An hour later, I woke up, mom got me dressed and I got the hell out of there. She was surprised I was alert enough to drive my chair. I was fine in three days, but I got a stupid infection. The stitches didn't fall out and the doctor didn't bother with a check up to check. I’m a pro at teeth pain, but it’s the infection that always gets me. As for my experience that day, there was clearly not enough “wisdom” to go around!


There is nothing special about being “Special”. Read another experience I had.


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