A while back, I was reading an English language blog on life in Japan. The post was about a government report that seven of ten Japanese people with disabilities have experienced discrimination. The first comment, from someone with disability: “And the other three were in a vegetative state and couldn’t answer.” All comments after that agreed that the first comment was correct, that discrimination is extremely wide-spread and the report was likely understating the problem.
So, it was with great interest that I read that Kotaro Yanagi, a member of the ikemen* acting troupe, D-BOYS, had published an autobiography of his life since sustaining a severe brain injury. Great interest, and despair, because my ability to read Japanese is pretty much limited to distinguishing the men’s and women’s toilets. But now one of his bilingual fans is taking it on herself to translate for all the people who have bought the book but can’t read it. Seeing as I was hopelessly pondering how expensive it would be to find someone to do that very thing, I couldn’t be more delighted.
She has just started and only has the prologue up, but if you are curious, you also might want to read Hicchan’s Translations. And, like she says, buy Yanagi’s book even if you can’t read it.
At any rate, I am very eager to read how Kotaro has managed to continue as a performer. And also, I am delighted that he’s still considered an ikemen actor. I wonder if the same thing would hold for a young American actor who faced similar difficulties.
Do you hate cleaning the kitchen? Do you like giant combining robots, even though–especially though–they make no logical sense? All is explained here, where Nobody Scores.
I suppose I should talk about myself and how I am doing and blah blah. But doing that will only get me wound up into a rant, and not a fun one, so if I’m going to rant, lets rant about something far more important: Those damnable Autobots.
If you are a Transformers fan, or inescapably linked to someone who is, you have no doubt seen the recent episode, “Rise of the Predacons.” When I viewed this episode with my housemate, I summed up the Autobots as a bunch of able-ists. When, later, my daughter also viewed the episode, her reaction also was “bunch of able-ists!”
Now, for those of you who have somehow managed to miss out on this touchstone of geek pop culture, in the Transformers universe, there are two sides which have been at war for hundreds of years. One is the Autobots, which in the current incarnation have a firm base on Earth and control of their home planet of Cybertron. They are the self-proclaimed good guys, led on Earth by Optimus Prime and on Cybertron by Sentinel Prime. Playing the part of the villains are the Decepticons, led by Megatron. The Autobots are supposedly on the side of freedom and life, while the Decepticons are into power for the sake of power.
So, if you were a permanently disabled Transformer, which side would you want to be on? I’m telling you, there’s only one side that will have you for you, and that is the Decepticons.
Look at “Rise of the Predacons.” In it, Elita One is revealed not to be dead, but instead to have been somehow combined with a spider to become Blackarachnia. As Autobots, including the two aformentioned Primes, discover that she is alive but now different, they each declare their revulsion and pity. Oh, sure, Optimus is all about wanting to cure her while Sentinel is speed-dialing Dr. Kevorkian, but the upshot is that neither one of them can envision a Transformer society in which somerobot who is part organic can be accepted and thrive. It’s kill or cure, million dollar babycakes.
Meanwhile, what is the leader of the eeeeeeeevil Decepticons doing? He’s on a road trip through space with his disloyal henchbot, Starscream. Megatron does not need to be palling around with Starscream, and if he were to get fed up with Starscream’s constant jibes and machinations, he could always easily get away from him. Why? Because, at this point, Starscream has nothing left of himself but his head. And yet, this annoying, trash-talking head is still seen as a valuable contributing member of the Decepticons, worth being toted around everywhere. Sure, he’s not fully respected, but that’s not really different than when he had a body. And when the Decepticons come across Blackarachnia? Yeah, they call her a “techno-organic freak.” But they will also offer her a job, a vital role in their organization, seeing her as valuable for her skills and knowledge. The one thing they don’t do is throw her a pity-party.
So, here I am, feeling lately particularly vulnerable in this current economic climate as my body discovers new ways to give out on me. Which side would I prefer my own employers to emulate? Freedom-loving Autobots with their fetish for the normal or scheming Decepticons who don’t care how you do it as long as it gets done?
First off, go check out Charming BB’s really great Disability Blog Carnival. Go on. I’ll wait. But be sure to come back here. And be sure to leave me a link to your favorite post this month, because I host right here next month. It will mark my first time ever as a blog carnival host. I don’t have a theme I expect others to fit themselves into. I’ll see what comes up from the submissions I get. Help me out here, and send me your best stuff!
Second off. Er. Um. To continue. Er, no, to switch topics. Yes, that’s it. I went to Staple in Austin last weekend, and got a copy of Usagi Yojimbo, Book 1, “The Ronin,” signed and with a little sketch by Stan Sakai. Oh, so cool! And many other neat people also were there, such as Rod Espinosa and Chris Allen, who have both done historically oriented comics for Antarctic Press. I bought a signed copy of Allen’s Obama, the only Obama commemorative item I have spent money on. I also bought The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal, which is a self-published book by E.K. Weaver. And I got a very nice sketch of Amal tossed in for the price! And also, I bought Phuni Comix, which is more of “Science and Religion”, which I bought last year and enjoyed. It’s probably a niche taste, but I find the silliness appealing.
And lastly, my right wrist separated Thursday night. Oh, it’s fine-ish now, but I’d like to know, why is it that I can never find my bandages and splints when I need them? What compels me to put them away? Why aren’t they laying out on my dresser along with my old teddy bear, single earrings, and crumpled receipts? I swear, I go through this every single time. Where can I put them that they won’t be in the way when I don’t need them, but also won’t be impossible to find when some part of me has decided to storm off in a hail of bitter recriminations and tears? What do you do about things like this? Where do you put your repair kit stuff that it can be fetched with whatever limb you have working at the moment?
Hey, I’m going to talk about the show. I will reveal things that happened. If you haven’t watched it, but plan to, and just hate having the plot revealed, Go back! Go back! Captain Kirk, go baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.
Last Warning!
I got caught up on my favorite TV show, Heroes, yesterday. The Eclipse, Part I is something of a study on disabilty attitudes. Everyone lost their powers and suddenly became disabled, merely normal after they had gotten used to being supernormal. Each character reacted differently to their loss, with their reactions in keeping with their personality and values.
To some of the characters, the loss of powers is a relief, even though it brings them great pain. For the super-healer, Clair, the pain is what she cherishes most, since she had lost the ability to feel it. Even though she is shot in a botched kidnapping attempt, and can’t immediately heal like she usually would, she is happy that she now has confirmation that she is human after all. Series all-purpose bad guy Sylar is also content with his loss of ability, focussing on his release from the constant hunger and discontent his super-comprehension had put him through. In comparison to what he was, he now has a cognitive disability, and he couldn’t be more pleased. And Mohinder, who had mutated himself in the service of mad science, is thrilled to no longer be turning into an insect…at least until the heavies come around and threaten to beat him to a pulp.
Some of the characters are irritated with their loss and resistant to adapting. Nathan Petrelli, at the beginning of the episode, was chiding his younger brother, Peter, who had lost powers to their father earlier in the season, for being resentful over his relatively disabled state. Then he also loses his powers and begins lashing out at Peter for suggesting that they take his inability to fly into account in their travel plans, and his stubborness leads them both to a deadend. Psychic Matt Parkman, who had nearly given up on finding happiness when his superpower first began to manifest, again nearly gives up on finding happiness–this time with the excuse that he can’t do anything to win his intended without his ability.
The most pathetic character, though, is the one whose loss of super-speed renders her disabled by TAB standards. Daphne is ridiculous. Tim Kring, why did you pull out the self-pitying disabled person stereotype? All this time, we were led to believe that Daphne was in thrall to the evil Papa Petrelli because of some super terrible feature of her pre-super life. And now we find out that the terrible thing is that she has leg braces and forearm crutches? And to avoid having her powers stripped by Papa Petrelli was willing to betray everyone she loved and act contrary to her own moral code? What kind of a person would rather be someone else’s puppet than be unable to walk? This is a completely unbelievable personality flaw, and a libel against people with disabilities. If you had other characters who were traditionally disabled without their powers, then it would be OK to show one of them as being a self-hating cripple. But you don’t. You are using one character to stand in for an entire class of people. You may as well kill off the black cast members on a regular basis. Oh, wait. You do that, don’t you. Maybe you all need to think a little harder about your positions of privilege?
The one character that I think best reflects the disability reality is Hiro. He refused to allow Parkman to feel sorry for himself, insisting that a real hero wouldn’t need special powers but would find a way to save the day. He is confident that everything will be fine, that they must simply have a plan. Yes, right now, he has the mind of a child and is looking to get his own power back. But it is his basic personality that is leading him, and that views regaining both his adult mind and powers as simply a means to an end. And if he can’t be a hero with his abilities restored, he will still be a hero. He’s already saved Parkman’s romance.
(Hiro is actually reminding me a bit of my mom right now. She has messed her leg up but good. Again. Maybe permanently this time. And she is irritated about not being able to do what she usually does, but chalks up her inconvenience to not having what she needs for the circumstances: a wheelchair, someone to walk her dog, handrails. She has a plan. She’s going to get those things, and everything will be fine.)
