Crip Killjoy in Cleveland

This blog post is about my time as a crip killjoy in Cleveland this last week. For those who don't know what a crip killjoy is, Scholar Sara Ahmed came up with the term "feminist killjoys" to describe those whose presence, needs, and critiques disrupt the smooth functioning of the academy or other patriarchal institutions; likewise Johnson & McRuer describe "crip killjoys"-- who refuse to "act in accordance with the system of compulsory able-bodiedness" (136). Basically, killjoys are expected to behave and think certain, usually positive, ways about the systems they participate in... then they don't behave or think in those ways, upsetting those in power of the systems. I self-identify as both but in this blog post, hone in on my status as a crip killjoy because of how my experience was shaped by my disabilities.

I was in Cleveland this year for a little over a week to participate in AP scoring. AP Exams are created, performed, and scored through CollegeBoard; the goal is for students taking AP courses in high school to take the exam and pass with a score of 3 out of 5 or higher to get college credit for the subject of their AP exam. I passed two AP exams when I was in high school myself. Now, as a college instructor of courses that are AP course equivalents, I am eligible to score AP exams in those subject areas. As a poor PhD student, I decided to try AP scoring for summer funding. How bad could it be?

"Have you checked the salad bar?"

I've been struggling with IBS since 2020. Treatment includes lifestyle changes, physical therapy, medication, and dietary restrictions. In my previous post An Introduction to Life with IBS, I go into the limitations of my disability. However, the short version is I try to avoid wheat (often associated with gluten-free lifestyles, though my sensitivity isn't to gluten necessarily), cauliflower, broccoli, excessive amounts of onion and garlic, and some fruits. I also have anemia, so if I don't have enough iron (meat/protein) with my meals, I am prone to fainting. Yeah, I know that's a lot. Yeah, it does suck.

My first day in Cleveland, I visited the HR table, who said there would be gluten-free options for me that met my dietary needs. I later got a hard-to-scroll-through calendar PDF of the menus for our catered breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. The dining hall itself was also hard to navigate, as there were distinct lines for vegetarian and vegan options, but apparently not for gluten-free people. Part of what bothers me about this is gluten is often an allergy (see Celiac disease). Vegetarian and vegan diets are often by choice, not allergy. As my diet is not a choice and has negative consequences on my body if not followed, I would have hoped for more accommodating separation of foods because of this. Whatever. Something is better than nothing.

the second dinner menu

My second night in Cleveland is what started my beef (please laugh at my horrible pun here) with the catering. I included a picture of the dinner menu. You'll notice a few things here:

1. there are a lot of broccoli options.

2. there is no gluten-free, broccoli-free meat options.

3. Oh, fuck me.

   
   

   When I showed up to the dining hall and realized after squeezing through people's shoulders in each of the lines, I decided to ask for help. I asked an employee if there were any gluten-free meat options. I followed her to a supervisor whose response to me was "Have you checked the salad bar?" I'm sorry, were the bacon bits there supposed to be my meal? I felt like a joke. I said thanks, stuffed my backpack with individually-wrapped mochi, and headed out for a meal somewhere else downtown that could meet my needs.

   
   

So What I'm Hearing Is...

Food aside, I was in Cleveland to work. And work I did. We sit and read each written response and give it a score according to a rubric... for 8 hours. We're separated by question and further separated into tables of 8 with 1 table leader to guide our way for each table. Sounds reasonable. My problem? I couldn't hear shit.

Our table was in the shape of a C, with the table leader being in the middle and 4 scorers per side. I decided to sit next to the table leader. Poor choice, apparently. Every once in a while, our table leader would stand up, move to the opposite end of the C, far away from me, and make whispered announcements I couldn't hear. I could hear other table leaders over ours. When I told him I couldn't hear him, his move was to walk inside the open end of the C so he'd be standing right in front of me, then he'd turn away from me to face the other 7 scorers. I still could not hear a single word. Why couldn't he just whisper from his seat at the end of the C?

At the end of the first day, I asked him to talk and told him I couldn't hear with either of his actions. His response: If I face you or speak near you, then nobody else can hear. My ableism alert went off in my head. Was this person not also an English teacher? I wondered what other asinine responses he gave to students with accessibility concerns. Nobody else seemed to have a problem hearing him. I was the only one asking for accommodation. What I heard was basically, everyone in this group is important, except you. He told me to keep reminding him I couldn't hear so for the rest of the week everytime he talked, I'd ask him to repeat everything for me afterwards. This solution still made me left out of group conversations and jokes. I felt like an outsider. I'd see my tablemates chuckle and eventually gave up trying to decipher their jokes. It made for a pretty lonely week.

Resounding Ableism

Originally, my goal in going to the in-person scoring was to explore a new place and network. Perhaps it would open me to new friends and connections. I'd attend the meet ups, happy hours, and mealtimes and try to be pleasant. It's hard when I'm hungry and feel faint. It's hard when I try to talk to someone about it and they don't seem to care or know how to help me. It's hard when the whole day has been me hard at work and feeling left out of every conversation with the strangers around me who all seemed to be having a good time. It was hard... I caved. I used up all my energy to get work done and had none left to mask my killjoy-ness.

The few times I tried to network were overwhelmed by my stress and hunger. My complaints filled the air, apparently to the point that some people would sit with my colleague only if "his friend" was nowhere to be found. People don't tend to like crip killjoys. I remind them of what they dislike. I reveal to them the injustices they don't wish to know about. I show them what it is like to not be completely able-bodied and neurotypical. I show them all is not well, and they don't know what to do with that. So in being a crip killjoy, i doubly-alienate myself; I am alienated through disability and revealing that alienation. The vicious cycle continues. Alienated, alienate myself, alienated, alienate myself.

What does it take to break the cycle? I either push down my feelings, my crip killjoy-ness, and pretend all is well like they want and expect me to be, or continue to alienate myself as a crip killjoy. Or something else intervenes. Policies change so I can be included. The table leader faces all of us instead of turning away from me. A staff member provides me with a previously mentioned unseasoned chicken breast. The person next to me sees me struggling to hear and tells me what I can't hear. The person across from me invites me to lunch after seeing how the table leader excluded me. While it feels like the pressure is on me to end the cycle of alienation, it in fact lies in the factors outside of myself. I have no control. It sucks, but I cannot reject it. I need it.

Overall, the lesson here is I am afraid about going on the job market. I am afraid of the alienation continuing each place I interview and work at. I'm afraid nobody will intervene to break the cycle now that we live in a presidency that does not value disabled people and neurodivergent people. There's a whole world of ableism facing me, and I have to get lucky enough to find the gaps in the alienation cycle to succeed. Where do I go from here?

#IDMD #IDisappointMyDad #ableism #cripkilljoy #killjoy #feministkilljoy #ibs #diet #hearing #alien #alienation