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| Meghan Schrader |
Meghan is an instructor at E4 - University of Texas (Austin) and an EPC-USA board member.
In early June I was with a group of protesters at a Massachusetts C&C lobby day and a death doula cited reasons for why someone might want “aid in dying.” In addition to various other motivations, she approvingly cited, “I don’t want to be a burden,” which elicited murmurs of assent from the crowd. That statement was obnoxious, both in terms of its reinforcement of our culture’s attitude that people with significant medical needs are “burdens” and the speaker’s privileged ignorance that that’s what she was doing.
Compassion and Choices’s employee Dan Diaz said something similar when he asserted:
“If I find myself in a situation where I can’t go to the bathroom on my own, where someone has to change my diapers, where I can’t feed myself, where I can’t care for the people around me, where other people have to move me around to keep me from having bedsores, is that really living?”
Whatever the context of that quote, these are things that many disabled people without terminal illnesses experience every day. Disabled people trying to live with dignity don’t need people like Dan Diaz implying that they are not alive.
As I’ve indicated, I think that there’s a good chance that the death doula and Dan Diaz didn’t understand that their statements were ableist. In contrast, I think a willfully hateful statement about “MAiD” can be found on the blog of formerly closeted white supremicist Richard Hanania. In his blog post “Canadian Euthanasia As Moral Progress,” Hanania writes:
“One could just as easily say that people who want to kill themselves after becoming disabled are seeing things more objectively, and when they accept their condition they’re coping and living under a kind of false consciousness. I’m pretty sure I would want to kill myself if I was ever paralyzed, and I grant it’s possible that maybe I would change my mind after a while. But I wouldn’t want to become reconciled to living with such a condition. The idea that I might accept it would for me be even more reason to commit suicide, lest I get used to accepting a defective version of myself. I’m sure Raikin and many others feel differently, and would want to hang around in a vegetative state and burden everyone else in their lives as long as possible.”
Wow, that’s pretty vicious. Why doesn’t Hanania just replace that blog post with the text of Die Freigabe der Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens?
I understand that in contrast to Hanania, the death doula and Dan Diaz’s statements occurred in the context of advocacy for the Oregon model. Both Diaz and the death doula likely experienced their statements as expressions of sympathy for terminally ill people. I doubt that either Dan Diaz or the death doula are closeted white supremacists, as Hanania was. Nevertheless, all three people’s rhetoric draws on the ableist trope that being a “burden” makes killing yourself a commendable act. That’s the cultural and historical milieu of “MAiD,” regardless of individual context or intent.
As I consider these ableist statements, my mind contrasts them with the love I receive from my sweet older cousin Amy, who cares for me like an older sister. For instance, Amy has stood by me during my bouts of severe mental illness, even when that process wasn’t particularly convenient or fun.
One of the things I most appreciate are Amy’s expressions of affection for my cat Lucy, even though she loathes cats. When Amy flew to Texas to help me during my manic episode in 2019, she took care of Lucy while I was in the hospital, and when Amy picked me up from the hospital, she remarked, “I pet It.” “It? You mean Lucy?” I asked. “Yes,” she said. “I thought It might be lonely, so I petted It on the head, and I said, ‘I think you’re disgusting but Meghan loves you so I guess I have to pet you.’” So now Lucy’s nickname is “It.” About a month ago I was talking to Amy on FaceTime and I jokingly showed her “It” sleeping on the porch. I asked her what she hated about cats. “I hate the way they rub up against your legs, I hate the way they cram themselves into small spaces, I hate the way they jump in your lap & turn around looking for a place to lie down-Yeah, I pretty much hate everything about It, but I know you love It, so I guess I have to accept It.”
LOL.
I know very many Oregon model proponents would gladly fly across the country to take care of a sick loved one’s “It.” And obviously Amy wasn’t caring for me while I was dying. But unfortunately the Oregon model is still linked to the idea that maybe people should kill themselves because caregivers having to do things they hate is a pain in the head. This ideology is poisonous for disabled people, as illustrated by situations like Canada’s “MAiD” program and the high rate of suicide among people with disabilities.
Living in a culture where disabled people are treated as “burdens” makes it more difficult to cope with systemic ableism, overwhelming medical needs or both. In contrast, I think the way Amy treats me and “It” models disability liberation. Sometimes care work is very uncomfortable or painful. But true compassion and justice means that we don’t abandon disabled or dying people, even if we must change their diapers. Or visit them in the hospital. Or take care of their disgusting cats.
Previous articles by Meghan Schrader (Link).
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