Rachelle Leduc (The Beacon)
By Rachelle Leduc, Guest Commentary
Every morning, the majority of us get up to start the day, dressed and to class on time without much thought. We never worry about people staring at us or counting on people to help us out. We often take for granted the ease we have getting to downtown Portland, ordering a coffee or maneuvering through a store.
We are continually judged based on our age, gender, size, race, religion and ability, as society has formed a picture of what a "normal" person should look like. On a Sunday in November, I had a chance to see what life would be like from a completely different perspective and finally understand the differences of being in a wheelchair. Never before had I experienced getting around to accomplish normal tasks from a wheelchair. Never before had I noticed being looked at for being different. Never before had I taken into account the things that seem so simple.
As soon as we got to the bus stop, I immediately began noticing the differences. I could no longer just walk on the bus and take a seat. This time, a ramp needed to be laid down as I maneuvered my way onto the ramp and into bus and locked the chair in place. Then again when I reached my stop: call to the bus driver, lower the ramp and exit onto the uneven sidewalk.
Pioneer Square was the destination. Luckily, at our first stop at Pioneer Place Mall, we entered through doors that had a flat entrance. No stairs. We had already crossed multiple corners, maneuvering the curbs, the uneven sidewalks and entered the non-automatic doors.
When we entered the stores, I continued to come across inconveniences I would have normally not have been conscious of, including reaching the merchandise, moving around the displays or reaching over the high countertops. Fortunately, along with the stares from passerbys, we were assisted by sales associates and kind Portlanders, more than if we had been standing on our own two feet. At times, we were also faced with pity looks as people let us cut them in line because we were in wheelchairs, almost out of guilt.
It almost seemed like they were suffering from "able-bodied privilege." They felt guilty for being able to walk, while we sat in wheelchairs.
I am not saying that this is right or wrong, as I do realize the difficulty in finding a balance between being rude and respectful, but I would simply like to draw attention to the matter so that more people may become aware and recognize the differences that exist, how we treat each other, and what each individual goes through to live on a daily basis.
Rachelle Leduc is a 2012 alumna and former Beacon reporter.
