Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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I love the big, ridiculous, dramatic disasters on 9-1-1, but I'd really love to see an episode where they don't go to a single call.
And I don't mean, the focus is elsewhere and we just don't see the calls. I mean they don't get a single call. Like the opposite of the quiet episode.
I want like, Buck climbing the walls, Eddie trying to pretend he isn't also bored out of his mind. Hen trying to be responsible and do responsible things but getting sucked into shenanigans. Bobby suspicious he gets to cook and eat an entire meal. Maybe Chim trying to avoid a conversation with someone and having to find excuses around the station to escape. Or begging Maddie to send them literally any job so he doesn't have to listen to Buck whining (especially when Tommy can barely respond to his texts because he's so busy).
And maybe they get one call and everyone rushes to get ready, gets in the trucks to go and then.... Slowly and sadly reverse back into the shed when they're stood down because another unit is closer.
I want them running out of things to clean, playing stupid games like fuck, marry or kill, doing personality quizzes ('Which animal are you? Buck and Cap both got golden retrievers!'). Just... The levels of stupidity they could get into with nothing else to do.
(And Bobby somehow gets an entire month's worth of paperwork done before he emerges into the disaster that is the firehouse, smoke alarm going off, feathers everywhere for some reason and just the entire 118 looking like guilty puppies)
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When Eddie finally gets into drinking hot teas, Steve loses his goddamn mind. Goes to the store, buys every flavor he can find. Makes a little tea buffet with samples galore on his kitchen island. Even puts little labels out so Eddie knows the name of each one he tries.
Eddie drinks every tiny cup (pretends he’s a fucking giant while doing it) that Steve sets out for him. Goes down the line just sipping and humming in thought/delight. Steve excitedly watches from the adjacent countertop the whole time.
Once Eddie is done, Steve approaches him, hugging Eddie from behind and asking, “Do you have a favorite?”
And Eddie, being a indecisive pain in the ass just says, “All of them. All of them are my favorite, babe. What are you gonna do about that?”
Steve is so unfazed by Eddie’s little challenges by now. Just gets a Costco membership, spends the next day buying tea in bulk.
Eddie comes home to towers of cardboard boxes, some are nearly touching the ceiling. Steve has sectioned off the kitchen with a red ribbon tied to each side of the doorframe.
He limbos under the ribbon, holding an oversized pair of scissors.
“Uh? Babe?” Eddie asks gently. Cause ya know… Steve is holding scissors and looking diabolical. “What’s all this?”
“You couldn’t pick a favorite so I bought every flavor available.” Steve says it easily, like this isn’t batshit wild.
“Okay…”
Steve hands Eddie the scissors. “I call it Eddie’s Ci-Tea…. Get it? Like city but... with tea?”
Damnit, it’s so adorable when Steve makes up shitty puns. Eddie has to cover his smushy face in kisses now (carefully though, cause goddamn motherfucking scissors ugh).
“You’re way too loveable, Steve Harrington.” Eddie gushes, cutting the ribbon. Mayor of their weird little relationship.
Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek and he smells like a fucking spice factory from hauling tea around all day. So fucking yummy, Eddie wants to stir him up with one of those ridiculous little spoons. Make a piping-hot cup of Steve Tea that only he gets to drink up.
And as Eddie examines all the boxes, reading over all the different varieties, he remembers this is still a challenge. A game that he started. And he can’t let Steve just win because he’s rich and pretty, right? That would be too easy.
Eddie goes out of his way to make unnecessary shit difficult cause it’s his evil little side hustle. Some people have hobbies, Eddie Munson has schemes.
So he turns around, facing Steve (who is blissfully happy still), and plants a big kiss on his stupidly pink lips.
“It’s great and all, Stevie, but…”
Steve frowns. “But?”
Eddie pouts, but still gives a devilish wink when he says it:
“You forgot the honey.”
Steve kicks one of the towers, makes it look like the cardboard-version of that famous building in Italy. He grabs his keys and his Costco membership card, and storms out the front door.
Eddie is still laughing as he hears Steve swearing in the driveway. He begins boiling a kettle of water to make some Oolong tea while thinking:
‘I’m gonna marry my snobby pretty boyfriend, and we’re gonna serve all this goddamn tea at our wedding reception.’
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