“Handi-capable”, “differently-able” and “neuro-spicey.” What do these silly terms have in common? Well, they all euphemise struggles and minimise the medical and material actualities of disability. The sheep’s clothes comprising their guise of acceptability hides the wolf of internalised ableism.
The term, “Neuro-spicey” is a culinary metaphor, designed to make the dish of neurological difference or disorder palatable for neurotypical consumption. It is a “pick me” term for courting neurotypical gaze and favours. This gastronomic phrase is also tinged, or seasoned — we might say — with a pinch of neuro-supremacy, a soupcon of brag and a tablespoon of smug self-righteousness. It also plays right into the hands of powerful, reactionary forces who seek to expose the “myth” of supposedly “socially constructed” neurodivergent conditions.
People who use some of these euphemising terms and who are also — at the same time — critical of Uta Frith’s cynicism about Chris Packham’s autism diagnosis, and who are horrified by the Channel 4 documentary on the “The Great [no less] ADHD Myth”, might want to critically evaluate potential contradictions as well as confront their possible complicity in providing fodder for the socio-cultural pushback that is happening. As I know from personal experience of having my disability accommodations recently rescinded by brute, bureaucratic ignorance and prejudice (after three years of having them), this reactionary force is polluting the policy decision waters, causing sickness in the lives of disabled people.
Of course, of course, people should use any terms they want and feel comfortable with, particularly if these identity descriptions enable conversation, visibility and self-acceptance. (I am not the terminological police). However, I do wonder if such terms are dangerously underplaying — in a quirk-adjacent way — the often challenging, laborious and viscerally painful material conditions of living with, for example, autism. To speak only for myself, after having undergone some very difficult struggles with aspects of my autism over the last few years — and particularly in the last couple of weeks — there is absolutely, emphatically, definitely nothing “spicey” about these experiences, unless the spice is that which flavours vindaloo which, to me, is unbearable and unpalatable.
As I write this, I have just learned of the death of Jason Arday (I’m linking The Guardian, but I am disgusted with that paper’s complicity in putting click-bait before compassion during this period), a black, autistic professor who was mercilessly targeted and hounded out of his prestigious position at Cambridge University. He was a vulnerable, autistic man, whose disability should have tempered the grotesque character assassinations from the press. Euphemising terms that might have described Professor Arday — “eccentric”, “different”, “unusual”, “sensitive” — do little to signal the actuality of his vulnerability, his requirements for subtle and complex care and the necessity for empathy and understanding about what such a pile-on can do to vulnerable autistic people. Such terms just make it easier for people to IGNORE his autistic profile. Jason Arday wasn’t “neuro-spicey”, he was an disabled, autistic man. Do we get this?
Parody and Satire to Reclaim Disabled Actuality
In my forthcoming book, Writing Autism: A Critique of Life, Language and Neurodivergent Cultures with Revol Press, I describe one of the features of my language practices in my poetry, prose and everyday interactions as “writing back to the empire of neuro-normative linguistics”. What I mean by this rather lofty appropriation of post-colonial terminology is that I often actively reclaim the hegemonic language and discourses of power with satire and parody. As such, and as a salve to the seriousness of my opening remarks, I want to offer a light-hearted, pun-tastic and portmanteau-portly parody of the terms I have already discussed.
In a recent discussion with my crip ally, Sarah Tooke, we exchanged some of our favourite euphemisms for disabled people. “Differently abled”, was chuckled over as well as “diversibility”, while my favourite is the phrase “Handi-capable” a seeming inversion of the negative connotations of the word, handicapped, but which sounds preposterous, childish and patronising.
To continue my parodic illustration of absurdity, here are some other terms.
In response to “neuro-spicey”, how about: Neuro-enticey; neuro-not-nicey; neuro-firey; neuro-enquiry; neuro-wiley; neuro-cheeky; neuro-whimsical; neuro-curious; neuro-other-ogical; neuro-quirky; neuro-perky; neuro-derpy; neuro-twerky.
We might also reclaim otherwise pejorative words. For “crip” we could say crifted (crip gifted); creati-crip; crippered; cripabled. For “retarded”, we could use, posi-tarded, alterni-tard or uniquetard (which sounds like fancy dancewear).
For wheelchair users, there are lots of options: wheelenabled; differently mobile; elsely-transported; wheelie-winged, fabulatory otherly mobile (incorporating an unnecessarily queering of “ambulatory”) and special speeds, which is quite a fun pun. And, as Sarah suggested: Inspiration-on-wheels, or inspire-wheeled could be used; creatively coordinated; and this is genius: roll-models (my favourite). Mobility aids could be rephrased to make people feel less uncomfortable as “Possibility Aids”.
And we have some miscellaneous compounds, filtering a whole range of disabilities through the palatability or polite respectability sieve:
Firstly, Chronic Intrigue Syndrome (that’s Sarah’s); “ups-syndrome” (for Downs); Elastically Criptastic; Diversicapped; Otherwise/Otherly-abled, Peculiabled; Alterni-paired (instead of impaired); at-ease (instead of disease), Out-firm (instead of infirm); cerebrother; and mis-figured (for disfigured).
Finally, we could just use a blanket term for all disabilities, guaranteed to abolish all the difficulties, disablements, prejudice and life-shortening iniquities with one, deftly-coined triumphant term:
“Win-capacitated”.
Rest in Power, Professor Arday.