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

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