Stereotypes, time-machines and Frida Kahlo
When able-bodied people think about wheelchairs, what associations do they make? My guess is that words like adventure, exploration and excitement won’t be near the top of the list, if they’re there at all.
As the proud father to a bold, exciting, adventurous wheelchair user—a daughter who has always pushed the boundaries, and, by 14 was hailed a ‘comic book hero’ in the National Diversity Awards—I’ve been frustrated again and again by the lack of positive wheelchair-using role models in books, TV and films. I know I’m not the only one.
Emily didn’t get the memo that she was meant to be shy or isolated. She didn’t know she ought to be looking longingly at people who don’t use wheelchairs. Yet if mainstream books and media had been her only teacher, that’s the kind of messaging that could have taken hold. Instead, Emily was out and about making mischief, being creative, following her dreams, just like any little human does. When people encounter a stereotype, repeatedly, it has an effect—whether it’s someone ‘like them’ being stereotyped, or somebody in their class, street or community who, at face value, looks like they ought to fit the mould. We start to see people as labels, not as the powerful human beings they are.
The truth is, that almost every time Emily chose something to read, and on the rare occasions she came across a character in a wheelchair, that character would be nothing like her at all. These books were giving my daughter and her peers a certain message—a message that is all still so often communicated: that people who use wheelchairs are frustrated and helpless. They are relegated to being a bit player in the background, or someone to rescue.
We know how important it is to see ourselves, and experiences, reflected in what we read, watch, hear and absorb. The world view on wheelchair-users seems to be that they are infantile, one-dimensional, or victims of their situation. My family’s own experience is radically different, and we clearly aren’t alone.
Yet it’s amazing to think that, in 2023, almost 400 years since the first self-propelled wheelchair was invented, that wheelchairs are still defining how people are viewed, rather than being seen as a method of movement.
Frida Kahlo, a celebrated icon of the art world, used a wheelchair.
Aaron Fotheringham, at thirty, has broken several extreme motocross records with his wheelchair.
Meanwhile, great British athletes Sammi Kinghorn, Kare Adengan and Hannah Cockcroft are showing the world how their wheelchairs are no barrier to success.
In my work as an author, illustrator and Policy and Campaigns Officer at Disability Rights UK, I’m all about narratives that show positive, relatable stories of people who use wheelchairs—stories that match with the inspiring, active, intrepid people I know. The books I have created feature Brook, a confident girl who uses a wheelchair and wouldn’t change her circumstances. She is the kind of character that I wish Emily had been exposed to as a child; her able-bodied friends and classmates too. In her debut, Brook travels to the moon, tapping into the childhood dream of being in space that so many of us share. Brook also goes on an escapade in a time machine, meeting different inspiring people who have used wheelchairs through the ages, and meets kids who are new to having a wheelchair, helping them see the transition needn’t be scary. Throughout the series, Brook is proud of her disability and empowered. My hope is that she will be a role model for the young readers who meet her, whatever their own abilities or background.
At the moment, there aren’t many Brook-like characters in print, but my fingers are crossed that this is changing now, and for the better. The world has had too many safe, uninspiring stories about wheelchair users, and collectively they’re taking a toll on us all.
Wouldn’t it be brilliant to remove the air of pity and woe that too often surrounds wheelchair users and their families? If the default associations made by strangers were not set to “oh dear,” “oh no,” or “poor thing”? If the mainstream population could see that the limitations hanging over wheelchair users simply do not belong to wheelchair users themselves?
People in wheelchairs can be messy and complicated; exhilarated and extroverted; naughty, nice and everything in-between. They can aim as high as they want to, and then go further.
These are the stories we need to be sharing and hearing. That is the understanding that today’s publishers can unlock. Brook’s tale is just a small part of a wider narrative. It’s time to write and shape that narrative for new generations, spreading the message that people in wheelchairs are… people. End of story.
Author: Dan White
Dan White
Dan White is the author of the new children's book cluster "Look, Brook", which is part of Pearson's Bug Club collection for primary readers.
Twitter: @PearsonSchools
LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/dan-white-92a7a3114
