"Just because a man lacks the use of his eyes doesn't mean he lacks vision." -Stevie Wonder
We've all played the "Zombie Apocalypse" game: in case of a breakdown in society due to virus that creates a population of the "undead", how would each person in your life, aka your "team" be beneficial? Are they proficient with firearms and other weapons? Do they have a strong mind for strategy? Do they have medical training? Are they an "outside the box" creative thinker? Do they have the ability to identify edible versus poisonous vegetation?
Well, I'm disabled and have chronic illnesses. On my team, I've been designated as a wound care specialist, and strategist. From personal experience, I'm a whiz with traumatic wound care. I'm not squeamish. Plus, I read a lot, and can often think of a situation from multiple angles. Oh, and puzzles...I. love puzzles!
I have a few autoimmune disorders, which means my body likes to attack itself for no damn good reason. I also have degenerative joint disease that primarily affects my back: my lumbar and sacral vertebrae (mid- and lower back) are degenerating (breaking down), causing stenosis (narrowing) of the spaces between vertebrae, and impingement on the nerves, and the discs are breaking down from the pressure. Lastly, but perhaps most significantly, I'm an amputee. My left leg, below the knee, was amputated in 2020, after a long battle with multiple surgeries. I'm constantly in pain. I rarely feel "good." This is just part of who I am, and that's okay.
My sense of humor. This is how I marked
which leg was to be amputated prior to surgery. 2020
But, because of the multiple surgeries, complications, and really wonky scarring, I'm not able to walk with a prosthesis. I'm a wheelchair user. That, of course, has had me thinking I'd be a liability in really any emergency disaster situation, and certainly in a damn zombie apocalypse!
Me, recovering from one of many surgeries. 2020
Do we desperately need societal reform? Absolutely. There are countless issues within our government that just aren't working anymore, or perhaps never really did work. But there's a big difference between remodeling a building, and razing a structure, leaving nothing but debris behind. The latter serves no one.
But that's not the point of this piece; we just needed a little context. We needed to understand the circumstances under which a breakdown of society as we know it would cause complete anarchy, leaving us all in a fight to survive long enough to rebuild.
Do you know how common it is for disabled people to assert that they'd just slow everyone down, put lives at risk, and as such a liability, the best option for all involved would be to, delicately put, no longer exist? I've thought this myself more times than I'd care to admit. I've seen people having this conversation several times recently on social media, and the Reddit community, r/disability, has several threads where people have asked the same question: what happens to us in an apocalypse?
I think, in this much more realistic and likely apocalypse/societal breakdown scenario, we need to stop thinking in terms of "teams," and more in terms of "communities."
The difference? A team, typically used to refer to sports or games, is a group of people coming together to work toward a common goal. But a community is a (often larger) group of people who've come together, often live within close proximity, sharing common attitudes, goals, interests, etc. Communities are a way of life. A necessity to not just survive, but to thrive. Historically, and even in modern society, we see communities working well. Thriving. Communities care about each member, while teams care about members who can bring them closer to their goal(s).
In a community, a disability is not an exclusionary trait. Those who truly understand those concepts know that each member has abilities and skills that benefit the whole, but they also understand that we all have our strengths and weaknesses. Community-oriented people believe in protecting and caring for all members.
Maybe you can't run, or lift heavy things. But you might be able to provide care for infants and children. You don't have the physical strength to fistfight? We can teach you how to use weapons. My point being that we often are very good at focusing on our "weaknesses," forgetting just how many things we are able to do, and that doesn't just happen with folks who are disabled. Literally everyone does that at one point or another in their life.
It's like when the most attractive person we've seen starts pointing out their "flaws" as we stare, mouth agape, that they are able to find anything about themselves to dislike. Our own perceptions can play a helluva game with our minds.
But in a community? We've all got a part to play, and we all matter. Communities don't single out those who are "weak" or incapable of performing certain tasks. What an arbitrary way to sort through a population, anyway. Who determines that "weakness"? Who decides what matters most to a community?
Communities have programs or individuals that can help people learn new things, where we can all grow as individuals, for no other reason than to expand our minds and evolve as human beings. At the end of the day, we all have a part to play; a role that is indispensable. A role that no one but you can fill. Picture a choir: their voices, while all different, coalesce into one beautifully harmonized sound.
The sense of belonging. Interaction with multiple different people. Mutual support. Personal, and communal, growth. Accountability. Advocacy. Education. Diversity. Relationships. Reduced stress. Healthier population. Shared legacy. Lower instances of preventable chronic illnesses. And, as happiness.com puts it, "Community belonging helps us accept that sometimes we're strong and sometimes we're vulnerable and that we need the support of others to avoid unnecessary emotional struggles and pain."
Communities don't just matter when everything around us is collapsing. They help make sure that, no matter what happens in this world, the individual members that create the larger community don't fall. Or, in the words of Helen Keller, "Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much."
