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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There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:
The Sympathetic White Woman.
In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.
Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.
(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)
For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.
Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.
Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.
Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.
It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.
Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.
(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)
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I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying.
And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic. My god. My god, this movie. It shattered me.
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