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More on my aversion to the word 'disabled'

When I blogged about my aversion to the word 'disabled' the other day, I  was just throwing my thoughts out there, as I do. Although I curb the profanity that usually arises when expressing my views in person, as long as what I write is honest and respectful, I do not otherwise hold back, so it was a bit surprising to feel discombobulated when my views on the word 'disabled' were challenged.

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Ongoing aversion to the word 'disabled'

I am sure I have made the assertion that I am not disabled as many times as have had hot dinners. I also know that I am equally prolific in expressing my dislike of political correctness and I am not trying to be contentious or offensive, but I simply find the word 'disabled' and its derivatives irksome. I appreciate that the terms used to characterise 'disability' exist to provide points of reference and consistent understanding, but in my wee opinion this has just made matters worse.

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Out of Sight, Out of Mind: The reality of Disability

I am amazed at just how resilient us human beings are, but I certainly don't want that resilience to make us desensitised when things are clearly wrong. The other day we set off to say goodbye to our son as he ascended the stairs of the bus to sleepover camp for the very first time. When we arrived at the drop off location, we were asked to wait with our son's luggage until the bus arrived. As this is a Jewish summer camp, it is ruled by a very different time algorithm called JMT, Jewish Mean Time, so the bus was invariably late: the kids hurried off to hang out, leaving the parents standing around watching their luggage. Typical.

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Disability and Eugenic Abortion: What is the value of a human life?

In our house, we have a regular Sunday routine: we heckle the TV whilst watching the weekly social, political and moral issues being debated on The Big Questions. There is always a discussion in our living room that follows, the length of which is determined by just how irked I get by one opinion or the other. But last Sunday was very different.

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Registering blind - three years on

Last Friday was my anniversary. No, not my wedding anniversary. Three years ago, on April 1st, I registered blind. I remember it like it was yesterday, and as I now sit and reflect, I do so with mixed feelings. I remember the shock, the pain and the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. I remember the rapid decent into an emotional and psychological black hole, trying to grasp what had transpired and feeling the most debilitating sense of loss. I thought that my life as I knew it was over, and I was right.

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Disclosing a disability when the time is right

I have been loathed to disclose something that is not exactly a secret to those that know me, but conversely is not something that I get on the rooftops and shout about in the way I do about sight loss and human rights. When I first started writing, doing advocacy work and public speaking, I simply felt that disclosure would confuse matters and dilute my message of hope, and that was not something that I was willing to risk.

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Employing a visually impaired person makes good business sense

I am lucky. There are no two ways about it. I have the good fortune of having everything any human person needs to be happy and fulfilled. I have a loving family, have had the benefit of a great education and, this is where the luck bit comes in, I have been afforded opportunities.

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Impaired? Yes. Able? Definitely. Disabled? Occasionally.

I know that I have made it unreservedly clear that I am not a fan of labels or political correctness for the sake of it. I guess that's because my interest, or at least where I think the crux of the issue lies, is not with what you call people but more about how you view them and, consequently, treat them. I am a big fan of human rights and seem to be quite happy with the label 'human being', although many people that know me might question this and try to redirect me to my home planet.

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