Kinship
I was wheeling around in my chair recently when I passed someone on the street. This guy I think was unhoused and he sat nearby with his dog. As I passed he looked at me with a very particular expression; he smiled at me, nodded and gave me a little salute. His eyes, though, bore not a whisper of pity, and in its stead was a stoicism, a kind of knowing respect.
I’ve seen this expression on the faces of a few folk before and I think I’m starting to realise what it means.
I think what cracked it for me was an important conversation I had with someone I’d one day like to become closer to. She is someone with a disability that, like my MS, is incurable and can without warning become suddenly worse.
When we talked together I had this strange sense of kinship, a recognition that we both shared a fundamental experience. We both know what it is like to stand this close to the edge of catastrophe, to feel the fear of that proximity, to truly appreciate the moment knowing the future is not promised,
Fate rolls dice for all of us but for most the dice are in their favour and they can count on the outcome, count on tomorrow being like today. This is of course the gambler’s fallacy, the dice have turned up in their favour so long that they take for granted the idea that they always will. But those of us for whom the dice routinely roll a ‘natural 1’ know the fallacy for what it is…
…know the weight of each roll.
I think most people can’t really bear the truth of the risk of life, can’t bear to consider what might happen to them or to the ones they love. They turn away from disabled folk, they don’t like seeing us, because we remind them of that risk. They avoid us or they other us, imagine that we’re fundamentally different and so reassure themselves that what is happening to us could never happen to them.
We, on the other hand, grab the dice with both hands and we throw the shit out of them. We have no choice, if we want to thrive in the context of bad rolls, we have to get used to the sound of dice hitting the table.
And that’s the look. A shared knowledge of the fragility of it all, the eyes of those who have seen the truth, and when we look at each other we know we’re looking at someone else who has seen it too. Not only that, it’s a look of shared resolve. We know that together we stand against the forces of fate, that despite it all we still find connection, meaning, joy. The look, the nod, the mutual respect, they are the secret handshake of the resistance, the welcome to other members of this stalwart community…