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 can’t stop fucking laughing
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WHAT THE FUCK JUST SHOWED UP
PLWASE
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Imagine the first time Kirishima calls you a “fucking brat”, and yeah so maybe he’s been spending a little too much time with Bakugou on those night patrols, but they make him tired and achy. So when he sees you prancing around the kitchen early in the morning dancing to your playlist and preparing your morning coffee wearing next to nothing, it’s like he knows what you’re trying to do— you’re such a tease.
But what he doesn’t expect is for your entire body to react to him the way it does when the words leave his lips. Your knuckles lighten as your teaspoon clinks down onto the counter and you grip onto the edge to stop your weak knees from buckling as you moan. You moan so fucking loud and he hasn’t even touched you.
Okay, so yeah maybe he should take a leaf out of Bakugou’s book more often.
ugh. i’d die a little on the inside but kiri’s smirk is worth it.
“you like that, sweetheart?” he teases.
eijiro saunters over to where you are, refusing to look him in the eye.
“shush. be quiet.” heat floods your face and neck.
his arms slide around your waist. he presses his warm body into yours and leans down to kiss the shell of your ear. his breath fans over your skin. “why?”
your breath hitches as his hands roam over your stomach, his mouth wandering down your neck.
“b-because i said so. that’s why,” you reply defensively, knowing full well you’ve already lost.
eijiro’s chuckle rumbles against your back, gooseflesh blooming on your arms and legs. he places another kiss on your ear. his lips graze the sensitive skin as he speaks, voice low.
“such a fucking brat.”
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Hey, fellow full-time Wheelchair Users,
I'm thinking of a state of mind that's a cousin(?) to "hangry," especially if your chair is not a perfect fit for your body (or not a good fit, at all). It might even have been custom-made for you when you first got it, but your body has changed in the meantime (or the chair's gone out of alignment in the meantime), and it'll be a while before Medicare/Insurance will help pay for a new one.
So at the start of the day, the miss fit is uncomfortable/annoying. But you take it...
At the end of the day, do you find yourself getting more frustrated/angrier than you would at the start of the day?
Especially in response to a normate person being hlepful... Or is that just me?
Can we coin a word for this?
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half finished half room (wolfie's half). with wolfie in woolen socks, playing the guitar!
|♫|
i don't want to give them their own rooms from the beginning, because having to share one room is a part of the narrative and contributes to their difficult family dynamic. but at least they divided it with bookshelves.
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this came to me in a dream last night
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