The death of Stephen Hawking is a great loss for the
scientific community, the disability community, and the whole world…or the
whole universe, if we are thinking like Professor Hawking. As is usual when a
disabled person dies, there has been a lot of chatter about how Hawking is now
“free” from his body, his wheelchair, and his communication device. The trite,
stereotyped cartoons circulating show him striding away from the power chair
into the waiting stars, and it is implied that a mind “trapped” in a limited
body has been released to achieve true greatness. But what if I told you when I
picture Hawking floating freely through the cosmos, I picture him zooming by in
his chair, in a place where it truly doesn’t matter what you use to get around,
because everything is 100% accessible?
As someone who has grown up using a power wheelchair, the
cartoons depicting Hawking sauntering into the cosmos in a suddenly ambulatory
body make me uncomfortable in ways that are difficult to articulate. But after
reflecting over the past day, I can say that some of my discomfort can be
summarized like this: Why does society assume that true peace and freedom can’t
exist in a body like mine? Of course, if there is an afterlife, which I believe
there is, we may well have no bodies at all. However, whenever the great beyond
is depicted, disabled bodies are erased. Essentially, I am erased, because existing like me has been deemed incompatible
with the joy of a Heavenly reward. Ouch.
Stephen Hawking was one of the greatest thinkers the world
has ever known. His talent is ordinarily contrasted with his disabled body. The
world saw his thoughts as brilliant, his body as broken. But the disabled body
(and the disabled mind, for the matter), is not without its own magic. Those of
us with disabled bodyminds live in bodies and minds that must adapt and
innovate and grow every day around both medical realities and deep social
prejudices that we ourselves must unlearn. The very act of taking up space on
the planet without apology is one of resistance. That, to me, is pretty damn
brilliant. Thus, Hawking’s talent and his disabled body need not be seen as a
contradiction. Hawking made his mark not in spite of a disabled body, but in
harmony with it, and when we erase that, we feed into the lie that disability
and greatness cannot coexist. That lie has tragic consequences that seep into
every aspect of society.
That said, “greatness” need not look like a scientific
genius. Our world, especially in these challenging times, demands that we recognize
greatness in all of its forms and acknowledge that greatness manifests itself
as much in a man who uncovers the secrets of the galaxy as it does in the
person who shares a kind word with a stranger. When I contributed to a video
this summer explaining the importance of Medicaid in my life as a woman with
cerebral palsy, an Internet troll challenged my very right to exist because I
need help. She asked “in what way I was useful” since I need physical help
“just to do basic stuff.” When another person called out her ableism, the troll
replied that “unless you’re Stephen Hawking,” she just wasn’t seeing my
usefulness. While Stephen Hawking is one
of the standard answers nearly anyone can give when asked to name a disabled
person, remember that for every Hawking there are millions of other disabled
folks who may never become world renowned professors or famous writers or movie
stars…and they shouldn’t have to in order to be treated as people of value.
That troll revealed an ugly sentiment that bubbles beneath
the polite veneer of society: too many nondisabled people still believe that
disabled folks need to earn the right to exist. The truth is, whether one has
unlocked the galaxies or merely spent the day eating a bag of chips, disabled
folks deserve life and a world that makes room for us simply because we are
human beings.
Don’t celebrate Hawking as an example of what humankind can
do when we “overcome disability.” Celebrate him as a testament to what we can
do when each and every bodymind in the universe is accommodated and supported.
Stephen Hawking did not find true greatness when he “broke free” of his
disabled body. He was true greatness in a
disabled body. That shouldn’t be so hard for the universe to believe.