This column originally ran in the November 2023 Mirror Moms pages.
“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
Ah, the iconic line from The Wizard of Oz movie. When I read it, I hear Frank Morgan’s voice—the actor who played Professor Marvel/the Wizard—reciting it. I picture Dorothy and friends, dressed in their finest, watching Toto wrestle the emerald curtain open while the “wizard” frantically tries to become invisible.
Fabulous movie, fabulous book, and fabulous sayings that have seeped into our collective vernacular.
Today, I’m tweaking the one above to discuss a redundant cry of mine: “Pay no attention to that man behind the wheelchair.”
You know, I get it. My husband is sweet, funny, and handsome. I’d want to chat with him if he suddenly appeared on the other side of my desk. Yes, he knows my birth date—he darn well better—and my home address is his, but I am just as capable as he is when it comes to giving someone my information.
Even though I use the pronouns she and her, my teeth grind together each time a person says them to my husband about me. Especially when I’m an arm’s-length away, my eyes desperately trying to connect with theirs.
A few years ago, my family and I were eating dinner at a restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. My father-in-law needed a fork, saw that I had a clean one, then asked his son, “May I please have Julie’s extra fork?” My husband and our son froze—knowing how much I hate not being asked or talked to one-on-one—and the former paused, giving me the side-eye. I swallowed, then said, “You may address the queen directly.”
My cat-with-a-canary smile and laughing tone told everyone I was joking while sending a gentle, but beseeching request—if the inquiry is for, or about, me, please don’t aim it toward anyone else.
A good practice to cultivate is to pause and ask this question: if the human being in front of me was not in a wheelchair or using a mobility device, would I still speak to their spouse, parent, friend, or home health aide instead of them? Depending on that answer, the correct point of view and age-appropriate tone should follow.
I was shocked when the woman bagging our groceries handed me our donut bag, then looked up at my husband. “Don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “She’ll guard them with her life.” My jaw dropped, and I think my husband’s did, too. Her words may have been funny if I were 5, but since I’m not, they became offensive.
Roll a mile in someone’s wheelchair, walk with their cane, use their walker. If the situations were reversed, would you want to be treated like a child or talked about like you aren’t there?
I can always count on my doctors to ask me questions, listen to my answers, and proceed from there. While they’re friendly to that man behind the wheelchair, he’s not the one they speak with about my health and concerns.
Acknowledging the person rocking their awesome disability is a sign of respect. It lets us be seen first. If whoever we’re with needs to offer their assistance, they can do so at that point, taking away any opportunity for hurt or offended feelings.
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