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Just Because I’m in a Wheelchair, It Doesn’t Mean Strangers Have the Right to Touch Me
What is it about being in a wheelchair that screams, “Hey, come touch me and say weird and offensive things in a positive tone?”
Ever since my accident, some people have felt the need to come up and do things like grab me on the shoulder and say things like, “It’s good to see you out.”
Because as we all know, venturing outside of the closets in which we’re normally kept is a major achievement for those of us in chairs.
What is it about seeing me in my wheelchair outside that triggers this impulse in people?
In fairness, I’m a pretty approachable guy, or so I’ve been told. Some people have told me I look friendly. Others have said I give off good energy (though I’m not sure specifically what that means).
My theory here is that, with my short beard and round belly, I look like a young Santa Claus in a compact sleigh. This will likely grow more accurate the older I get.
Regardless of the reason, or the intent, it bothers me when random-ass strangers assume that it’s acceptable to come up to me, put their hands on me, and start spouting whatever insulting, patronizing platitudes or regurgitated inspirational sputum they feel will brighten my day.
