Uncategorized – Page 8

Adam’s Response to Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird

In the final chapters of To Kill a Mockingbird, we finally meet “Boo” or Aurthur Radley. It’s this interaction with the children and the other members of the community that end up at the house that we are able to get a better sense of who he really is. The character we meet is in fact not one that lives up to the violent rumours and stigma the community has built around him but instead is a very quiet man who seemingly is just trying to help. The rumours that surrounded Boo Radley gave him a disability where one never existed and because of this essentially made him an outcast from society.

Right from the beginning of the text the children make assumptions about Boo based around things they’ve heard but cant confirm. He’s demonized in the eyes of not only the children but the town as a whole, solely because he doesn’t leave his house or interact with other members of the community. The reason why isn’t clear to anyone, but that makes no difference in stopping the assumptions about him and his past. Most of the stories are wild and outlandish and paint him as someone crazy and unable to control himself. In a way, I’m reminded of The Creation, from Frankenstein. The creation is quiet, reserved and attempts to make friends or at least foster relationships long enough to not feel lonely. In that case The Creation was pushed until he was unstable and this resulted in multiple deaths. Boo Radley does not resort to, or have any intentions of killing people, but the same base is present in both of their cases. People see an individual who spends time alone (for whatever reason) as broken, scary, crazy, or otherwise an outcast and creates an identity for that person based on nothing but their own views, not taking into account the characteristics or personality of the individual concerned.

When we finally meet Boo Radley, we are able to see who he is for ourselves without the influence of stories told by others. While he only says the absolute minimum he can, just his presence and actions disprove most of the theories surrounding him, many of which the children believed. This proves how we see people in society without really knowing them. We will give people an identity of being “broken” or “crazy” without ever getting to know them because of the notions we have of disabled people having those characteristics. There’s nothing that proves Boo isn’t just an introvert, but the rumours make that almost impossible to believe. It’s common in society for us to do very similar things. I’m not suggesting that these are intentionally bad assumptions and we set out to be rude and inconsiderate, but for example, people tend to stare and assume when they see someone in a wheelchair or with a mental disability. If we can take one thing away from the interactions the children have with Boo, it’s to not assume what may or may not be going on with someone where it isn’t your place to do so. Get to know people and understand who they really are before making accusations or spreading rumors that can harm people more than it may seem.

Word Count: 543

I hereby declare upon my word of honor that I have neither given nor received unauthorized help on this work.

Cayla’s SRR to “What you Mourn” and “Disability in Theory”

In the poem, entitled What you mourn by Sheila Black, we see a woman that contemplates the year that her legs were straightened and how unhappy she was with her new able body. The writer allows for a different perspective on disability than how it is usually depicted within literature. The speaker is not upset that she is not able bodied like usually seen, but rather that she explains show she would have nested and embraced her disabled body before it was”fixed”. It is clear that what the speaker mourns is the disabled body that she once inhabited. Black expresses the love for her disabled body and twists the narrative of the socially constructed body.

The speaker is told that she will now “walk straight on her wedding day” (lines 3-4), implying that disability is in juxtaposition with normalcy and even happiness. Furthermore, that when a body is physically impaired it needs to be “fixed” for the purpose of getting closer to “normal” as possible. Highlighting Siebers’ assertion that social constructed attitudes of an institution determine the greater biological representation of the body’s reality (Siebers 173). He explains that we are over critical of the body and its symbolic nature to be, do, and representation within society. Siebers’ also quotes Thomson as she points out the discourse of disability as it is “the unothortox made flesh, refusing to be normalized, neutralized or homogenized” (Siebers 174). Furthermore, the poem exemplifies the importance of the idealized body as it relates to our sense of self and identity.

The reader also calls upon the contention of “naming” as it relates to the identity of any disabled persons. “Crippled they called us when I was young later the word disabled and then differently abled, but those names all given by outsiders, none of whom could imagine that the crooked body they spoke of …” (lines 17-19). Black is employing the controversial nature to which individuals are usually providing labels for the people that should be labeling themselves. The speaker connects her experience within her “old” body to that of a “beloved imperfect home country” (line 23- 27). Demonstrating that she noticed the difficulty and discourses that she had faced within her disabled body, but she embraced it anyway, even though she was forced out of it. Ironically, the speaker also expresses the exile she feels within her old body and the imprisonment that she feels within her new body (lines 11-13). One can imply that the author was trying to have the reader grasp the societal pressure of having a “normal”and able body.

In both Black and Siebers’ writings we see the significance of the body, to which disability transforms ideals about identity, language, social and political understandings. Both Black and Siebers explain the detrimental ways in which society overtly project normative values unto persons with disabilities and how these subtle structures can often exclude them. In addition, further abdicating the basic thoughts and assumptions that surround a disabled bodies experiences.

Word Count: 506

I Pledge, Cayla Stroud.

Lizzie Wordham’s Response to Jennifer Weise’s “Nondisabled Demands”

Jennifer Weise’s poem “Nondisabled Demands” details in a witty and somewhat satirical way the ignorance of nondisabled people. She implies that this demographic of unaware, privileged people particularly includes straight men who appear to be physically able, as she writes that “Everyone knows the default mode of a poem is ten toes, ten fingers, in love with women and this nation.” Aside from pointing out their ignorance, Weise also brings attention to the fact that nondisabled people tend to assume ableness of everyone they meet who isn’t obviously disabled. She is stating that if a nondisabled person fails to be aware of another person’s limitations, it is the fault of the disabled person for not speaking up and making their disabilities known. This is demonstrated in lines six and seven, where she writes “You can’t expect people to read you if you don’t come out and say it.” The reader can assume that this is the voice of the nondisabled community speaking to a disabled person.

In addition to pointing out the ignorance of nondisabled people, highlighting a particular part of the nondisabled demographic, and bringing attention to nondisabled people’s tendency to assume ableness, Weise’s poem also details how nondisabled people consistently put disabled people in the spotlight for their own entertainment and inspiration. Lines thirteen and fourteen include the words “We’ll rope you to the podium.” The use of “rope” implies forcefulness as well as a lack of choice for the disabled person being forced in front of a podium to speak. The “podium” suggests attention being put on one person in front of an audience. Weise uses this line to suggest that the “we,” nondisabled people, will push people with disabilities in front of an audience to speak, whether the disabled person truly wants to or not. A couple lines down, Weise writes that if that disabled person refuses to speak and answer questions, the nondisabled people will “call [their] doctor.” This is a powerful line that can be interpreted many ways. If a disabled person chooses not to speak for themselves and nondisabled people turn to their doctor for answers, this implies that the doctor has the capacity to accurately speak for their patient. The doctor, however, likely only knows the medical side of that disabled person’s life, therefore only being able to detail that one aspect of their life and personality. If this is all the doctor is able to convey, nondisabled people miss out on everything else that makes up that disabled person’s personality and equates the entirety of that person’s value to their disability.

Weise’s poem accurately portrays a lot of the behavior of nondisabled people towards the disabled community. She details their ignorance, their assumptions, and their forcefulness. The third sentence in the poem that begins “We have an uncle with a disability” also draws attention to the way nondisabled people attempt to relate to people with disabilities by using their experiences with a family member, when in reality a nondisabled person can never truly know the experience of having a disability without living it. Weise uses her poem to call out the nondisabled people on their ignorance, force them to be aware of it, and encourage them to take the steps necessary to become more aware and inclusive of the disabled community.

Word Count: 550

I hereby declare upon my word of honor that I have neither given nor received unauthorized help on this work.

Nondisabled Demands and Mental Illnesses

“Nondisabled Demands” reminded me of how mental illnesses, much like disabilities in general, can be turned into a “situation” in which the tables are turned: the disabled person is no longer valid for their feelings, and they’d be better of they if just got out with it. Spill your heart on the table – everything that makes you, you – otherwise, you are hurting the people who are “trying” to help you.

Sometimes people aren’t ready. Sometimes, the right people aren’t coming to you, or they’re coming at you from a completely wrong angle. No matter the excuse of “we’re trying to help,” “I know somebody (like the uncle) who has experienced (say…) depression… We know how you feel.” It’s clumping all people with disabilities into a box and neglecting their individual experience. This negative type of intervention style is so common, and despite many persons who might try to help, the lack of understanding, frankly – nosiness, – is suffocating. People don’t owe anybody an explanation for their experiences in life.

little tiny mini munchkin blurb

Rosemary’s Response to Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird and Jillian Weise’s “Nondisabled Demands”

In Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, Arthur “Boo” Radley is seen as the town’s crazy resident, who never leaves his home and has all sorts of negative rumors spread about him. Jem and Scout’s curiosity about Boo Radley leads them to seek answers and pry into his strange life. Meanwhile in Jillian Weise’s “Nondisabled Demands,” Weise describes the entitlement that nondisabled people have when it comes to knowing personal details about people who have disabilities. In both of these works, the authors dictate the exploitation that people with disabilities face from able-bodied and -minded people on a daily basis.

In the fourth chapter of Lee’s novel, Jem, Dill, and Scout are looking for something to do when Jem comes up with a new game to play. He says “‘I know what we are going to play… Something new, something different… Boo Radley’”(43). This is essentially a proposal to use what little knowledge they have of Arthur to role play as what they would understand to be a crazy person. Not only is this notion rude in that they are using a game as an opportunity to make fun of Arthur, but they are also planning to participate in false assumptions about who he is. In the next chapter, Dill says “‘We’re askin’ him real politely to come out sometimes, and tell us what he does in there’”(52). Yet again the children are using what they think they know about Arthur’s disability as a means of entertainment. They are hoping that he will have some wild stories to tell, or that he really will be a commodity that they can observe. Arthur’s disability is exploited by the children as they intend to use it for their own enjoyment.

Weise’s poem also approaches the entertainment value that many nondisabled people take in learning about the lives of people with disabilities. “We’ll rope you / to the podium and ask / What do you have?” (lines 13-15). The image of being tied to a podium is very indicative of the resentment that some disabled people feel when they are bluntly and frequently asked about their disability. Weise later writes “then we get to say / You’re an inspiration” (lines 17-18). She is highlighting the tendency that many nondisabled people have to pity disabled people and view their disability as something they had to overcome. This attitude is then applied to their own lives in the general notion of “if they can overcome that, what do I have to be upset about?” This in itself is exploiting the lives of disabled people to make themselves feel better, or better themselves. These nondisabled people are using the narratives of people with disabilities for their own benefits.

Overall, both authors exemplify the derogatory views that are associated with disabilities and push the reader to consider what it might feel like to constantly be exploited in such a way that Arthur Radley, the speaker in Weise’s poem, and many disabled people are.

Word Count: 516

I pledge. Rosemary Pauley

Gina-Marie An’s Response to Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird: The “Different” Characters

The text starts out by introducing Scout’s family and how they fit in their Southern town, Maycomb. Right away, Scout’s brother is a character that is visually different than others – Jem broke his arm and his arm is described as being “somewhat short than his right” (3) But, despite becoming slightly different in this way, he is described by Scout as not caring at all as long as he can pass and punt around (3). I think Dill’s wittiness matches this carefree attitude Jem has. When Jem teases him about his height, Dill says, “I’m little but I’m old.” (7) It’s very characteristic of how he feels about being noticeably small at seven years of age. That is not the only way he is described as different, though. Scout portrays him as “a curiosity,” (8) with “snow white hair.” (8) It seems like Dill might have albinism, but it isn’t obvious in the text because Scout and Jem’s don’t have out-loud reactions to that specific part of his appearance. I think children are not born to be prejudice – they learn prejudice through adults. They are, however, born with curiosity and it was clear that Scout did think a lot about Dill’s appearance. It didn’t impact their friendship though. It’s brushed off and soon enough, the couplet becomes a trio.

I think this is important to think about – how the text is in the young child’s perspective. I know there may be arguments about how kids bully or how kids are inherently scared if a person is drastically different from them. But that is rooted in our parenting and culture, to be afraid of what is different. And that is seen all of the time in people with disabilities.

The man in the house is possibly a misunderstood character who can be looked at from a disabled perspective – and I think this character will be built onto more as the story goes on – the Radleys from “The Radley Place.” There are a lot of negative connotations and rumors going around about this “peculiar home,” stories of attempted murders and creepy faces staring at you through the window. Calpurnia also seemed to dislike him and spat at the sight of him – but he is sick. He is literally dying. From a disability perspective – I thought, perhaps he might be mute, as he never spoke to anybody… and he is further isolated as the townfolk don’t take the time to know how sick he is and to what extent. When his older brother takes his place, the children make a game out of touching this “haunted” house, but nobody really knows who this Mr. Nathan is all about.

I’m also interested in chapters 2 and 3, as we are introduced to characters that the narrator does have definite prejudice against. It is very straightforwardly described by Scout: these characters deserve less because they already have less. I’d like to start with Walter Cunningham, the farm child whose family was economically shot. Lee writes them out to be sympathized with: they don’t accept anything they can’t pay back, they’re very righteous. Yet, because this is made normal in Maycomb town, the young girl Scout thinks that is what he deserves because he is already made out to deserve less in their town.

Then when you think there can be no one less well off than Walter, the author introduces us to Burns Ewell who is even less fortunate than Walter. Scout’s conceptually thinking the same thing here- that he deserves what he is – a filthy, mean boy… and the reader may wonder how or what it feels like to be him; poor and unwanted by everyone around him… may even pity him. Yet, all of the first graders don’t pity or care at all – they all console the hurt teacher and give her their sympathies for how awful the child was, not even giving a second chance to sympathize over his situation. And it’s not a surprise – this is his third year in first grade and it’s obvious the system and the town have made this the boy’s reality. And Lee beautifully frames the idea of societal constructed prejudice when talking through Atticus… “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” (33)

Word count: 730

I pledge. Gina-Marie An.

Richard’s Response to John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men and Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird.

Word Count: 67.6

Disabilities, both physical and developmental, have lasting effects on both the individual with one or more disabilities, along with those who help care for the individual. Yet unfortunately, society can be negative with projecting a lack of empathy and understanding for the individual and the challenges they face on a daily basis. In both Of Mice and Men and To Kill a Mockingbird, we are presented with two stories which incorporate disabilities, and how others treat the disability as something to fear or discriminate, instead of people putting themselves in the shoes of that individual to try and see things from their perspective. And sadly, we continue to see such fear and discrimination even to this day.

In the novella Of Mice and Men, we meet the character of Lennie; a tall, somewhat muscular individual who is intellectually challenged with not knowing his own physical strength, and who’s unable to adequately process the consequences of his actions before having carried them out.

Lennie’s caretaker George throughout the story, defends Lennie and tries to get Lennie to act as close to a normal person as Lennie is capable. When George tests Lennie on what he is going to do upon arriving at the ranch, Lennie thinks for a moment before replying back that “[he] ain’t gonna say nothin’” (p. 6), signaling that George didn’t trust Lennie to stay out of trouble, especially as people could openly discriminate against intellectual disabilities back during the depression era.

While George cared for Lennie at times throughout the story, his attitude and actions at times were clearly challenged I feel, in seeing Lennie as a liability of sorts. For example, he didn’t want Lennie to talk when they first arrived at the ranch, he was iffy about trusting Lennie with a puppy, and at the end of the story when the small gathering of ranch workers set out to track Lennie down following the death of Curley’s wife, George takes it upon himself to kill Lennie by his own hands before the mob could reach them. Whether George saw the killing of Lennie as an act of mercy to avoid being hanged by the mob who were hunting for him, or if it was for a more personal reason such as allowing George to be free of what had been holding him back for such a long time, we may never know. Yet, George struggled to put himself in Lennie’s shoes, often electing to talk down to Lennie as a child who would never amount to anything on his own.

In the beginning of Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, we then see how young children can be affected and made to fear someone based on rumors alone, particularly if the target of the rumors has a disability. When the children hear stories about the Radley house and of how when Arthur (Boo) Radley was purportedly trying to kill his parents in a calm, psychotic manner, his father insisted afterwards that Arthur not be locked up in any asylum (p. 12). But the neighborhood began spreading rumors which reached the impressionable minds of children, instilling a sense of fear about the house. Children feared the house, and when Dill challenged Jem to try and lure either Boo, or his elder brother Nathan Radley out of the house, Jem was clearly scared to go near the house, until the terms of Dill’s dare were altered to just touching the side of the house. But kids would vividly imagine the pecan nuts from the Radley yard to be poisoned (p. 10). That jumping to conclusions and fear which had been instilled in the minds of local children, meant that along with most adults in the region, no one wanted to even associate with the Radley family because of the misunderstanding over Boo’s (as of yet unknown) intellectual disability. That fear leads the children to pull stunts of ridicule against the family, such as the dare given to Jem.

I found both stories interesting as someone who has been bullied for intellectual disabilities in the past (notably as a young child when classmates and teachers would ridicule me for daydreaming in class and not finishing homework on time/scoring poorly on tests). Indeed, it wasn’t until I was 14 that I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder without Hyperactivity, and I’d had it engrained into me by peers and a few teachers prior to that point, that I was stupid and would never amount to anything. So having re-read Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, as well as being introduced to Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird was certainly able to in one sense, remind me of my past and the work we as individuals and society in general have, to help bridge the gap of fear, prejudice, and misunderstandings.

I hereby pledge upon my word of honor, that I have neither given, nor received, any unauthorized aid in this assignment.

-Richard Yeomans.

Meg’s Response to Toni Morrison’s Sula and Chris Bell’s “Introducing White Disability Studiesː A Modest Proposal”

In “Introducing White Disability Studiesː A Modest Proposal”, Bell lays out the ways in which Disability Studies have, “a tendency to whitewash disability history, ontology and phenomenology,” and that they would be more aptly namedː White Disability Studies (Bell 275). While the entire piece was thought provoking and well written, one point stood out more than any other for me – Bell points out that disability studies often focus on the disability without discussing the intersection of that disability and the subjects of race and ethnicity. This point made me pause and re-read Sula through a different lens. Within the community of Medallion, Ohio there are several characters who are disabled in one way or another, and each of their experiences both within, and outside of, their community is further shaped by their race and ethnicity. Shadrack’s treatment within the military hospital, and his treatment in the white town show not only the blatant racism of the time, but also a disparity in the treatment of African Americans with disabilities of the time, and through that disparity an entirely different experience of disability.

Obviously, racism is rampant in Sula, and when reading a story of a segregated mid-western American town around the first World War, this is not shocking.But this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t point out the obvious, and make it a conversation – we should heed Bell’s advice and talk about what isn’t being talked about, even when it does seem obvious. And when reading of Shadrack’s experience in a wartime hospital, it is impossible to not question if his race played a part in his treatment by his attending doctor. Would the doctor have told a white man with the same actions “Nobody is going to feed you forever,” or “pick it up, I said. There’s no point to this…” (Morrison 9)? While doctors certainly saw an unprecented number of young men experiencing shell-shock during World War One, and were undoubtedly at a loss for how to help them, one must wonder if there would be more preferential treatment towards a white male over an African American male with the same symptoms. Would a white man have at least been shown a mirror, or told his name or maybe some basic directions home?

Another obvious example of a difference in experience and treatment is in the vaguely named “Midwestern town” which he comes to after leaving the hospital. As Shadrack breaks down, eyes closed, simultaneously untying and knotting his shoelaces, no one stops to help. No one asks if he’s alright. Instead the police arrive and arrest him for “vagrancy and intoxication” and lock him up in jail (Morrison 13). Had a white man been having the same non-violent break down while sitting on the curb, we have to ask ourselves – would he have had the same experience? Likely not. The charge of vagrancy has roots in the Civil War, and was aimed specifically at African Americans who appeared to be homeless (or even sometimes just appeared at all) within white communities (Tarter).

Shadrack’s examples represent just one character’s experiences within the intersectionality of race, ethnicity and disability in Sula, a book which is ripe with characters who each have their own unique experiences of the same intersectionality. His treatment within the military hospital, and his experience in the white town are evidence of the obvious racism of the time and place of the story, but are also evidence of a disparity in the treatment and experiences of African Americans with disabilities and their white neighbors.

Additional Work Cited:

Tarter, Brent. “Vagrancy Act of 1866.” Encyclopedia Virginia. Virginia Humanities, 25 Aug. 2015. Web. 5 Feb. 2020

Word Count: 608

I hereby declare upon my word of honor that I have neither given nor received unauthorized help on this work.

Emily Saunders’s Response to “Until” by Ayisha Knight and “Introducing White Disability Studies: A Modest Proposal” by Chris Bell

Last semester in my Queer Literature Studies course taught by Professor Haffey, we spent one class period talking about the different ways to construct identity. One of the main takeaways from that discussion was that no two people can experience something in exactly the same way. While two people may share many labels in common, there will still be things that each individual is a member of that the other is not. In many ways this has informed how I look at identity as it is represented or spoken about in discourse around me, and it was especially prominent to me in the readings for today—namely, “Until” by Ayisha Knight and “Introducing White Disability Studies: A Modest Proposal” by Chris Bell.

Right off the bat in her poem, Knight confronts the problematic, exclusionary discourse around several groups with whom she identifies: Things like her blackness, queerness, religion, and deafness are often called into question as not being authentic enough for x, y, and z reasons. By pointing these things out, she calls attention to the idea that only one kind of experience can be representative of an entire group of people. This is, unfortunately, a widespread ideology enforced by the lack of discussion and consideration for intersectionality within any one group’s discourse.

Similarly, Bell challenges this position in his essay by suggesting the term “Disability Studies” be changed to “White Disability Studies” to more accurately name those who are included in the discourse (275). Instead of providing a list of ways in which scholars of White Disability Studies can be more inclusive (a conversation that has been had time and time again) he cleverly crafts one that would help the movement remain as whitewashed and singular as it is currently. The irony of his approach is that it not only makes the whiteness of the field glaringly obvious, but by listing what they shouldn’t do, he’s telling them what they need to. The fact of the matter is, only providing one form of authentic representation is one way to create and maintain power, over both the public sphere of influence and the individual. In this way, even bodies that are “different” can be regimented and managed, which only reinforces the power hierarchy that defines an individual person’s identity and its worth to society: a man is more valued than a woman, a white woman is more valued than a black woman, an able-bodied individual is more valued than a disabled individual. Everything can be compared against increasingly complicated and unfair standards.

This is where I can connect Ayisha Knight’s poem to Bell’s essay the best, because what he calls for—authentic, varied representation in the Disability Studies field—is what Knight proudly champions. She navigates the different parts of her identity, brings the listener along on a journey to self-love and appreciation, part of which came through in the form of recognition from an equal. A lover. She brings to the stage an honest voice that represents many different groups simultaneously, all wrapped up in one body—her own.

I pledge. Emily Saunders

Word Count: 510

Crooks, Isolation, and the Intersection between Race and Disability

In John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, the primary disabled figure is Lennie, a physically strong character with an intellectual disability. However, the secondary character of Crooks offers the perspective of a character marginalized not only by physical disability, but racial prejudice. Crooks’ response to isolation is to reclaim the site of his isolation as his own space, free from invasion by those who cast him out.

Crooks has a small shed off of the barn where he keeps his things and spends much of his time, avoiding the rest of the workers. He stays here alone, and the narrator describes him as a “proud, aloof man” who “kept his distance and demanded that others keep theirs” (Steinbeck 66). However, the narrative implies that his pride in his loner status is a response to the ableist and racist exile forced on him by the other workers. When Lennie, Slim, and Candy all end up visiting him, Crooks tries “to conceal his pleasure with anger,” implying that his pride, anger, and protectiveness of his own space are a defense mechanism (Steinbeck 73). Crooks explains on multiple occasions that the other workers won’t let him in the bunk house because he’s black. Even though both Candy and Crooks have lived on the farm for years due to their disabilities, racial prejudice keeps them apart, as Crooks cannot come into the bunk house and “guys don’t come into a colored man’s room very much” (Steinbeck 73). Isolated from the white community of the bunk house, Crooks tries to occupy himself with the solitary pursuits of horseshoes and reading, but even he admits to Lennie that the lack of companionship is bad for his mental health.

Crooks’ isolation from any support network is damaging to his mental health, a fact he acknowledges himself. When talking to Lennie, he says that “a guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody…don’t make no difference who the guy is, long’s he’s with you,” drawing a direct comparison to George’s assertion that he and Lennie are going to be okay because they have each other (Steinbeck 71). Crooks even goes so far as to describe himself as “sick,” describing how he sees things and isn’t sure if they were real or not without another person to verify it for him (Steinbeck 71). Despite his reluctance to invite people in or talk to the people who exclude him, Crooks pours his heart out to Lennie once he realizes that the combination of Lennie’s poor memory and his own marginalized status as a disabled black man means what he says will likely never get out (Steinbeck 69). Crooks claims that the specific companion doesn’t matter, since all he needs is someone to make sure he isn’t hallucinating, but his resistance when Lennie innocently invades his space and his delight when he realizes that Lennie isn’t a reliable witness (thus meaning he couldn’t check whether Crooks is hallucinating, the reason Crooks claims to want a companion) belies that sentiment.

Crooks’ relationship to others is complicated, shaped by years of prejudice and isolation. As a disabled man denied a support system due to racism, even the companionship of a fellow disabled man who lives and works on the same farm, Crooks turns to pride and self-reliance for survival. When speaking to Lennie and believing he can be vulnerable without Lennie repeating it back to anyone, he reveals that he knows the psychological toll his isolation causes, but his pride won’t allow him to tell anyone else. After all, his loneliness is not self-imposed, and abandoning these coping mechanisms won’t bring him a friend or companion. Crooks is bitter, proud, and aloof, but these aspects of his character are informed if not created by his status as a man at the intersection of two marginalized identities.