“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.” Lewis Carroll, Alice Through the Looking Glass

I really thought I was onto something simple with 'A Fresh Look' (May 2020’s NZ Optics), but to paraphrase Sherlock Holmes, 'the game appears to be afoot'. I'm fond of words, especially when they're used in that precise way 19th century authors treated them.

Back then, ambiguity wasn't a requirement; thus Charles Dickens’ Tiny Tim was neither handicapped nor disabled but, in fact, 'crippled' which, regardless of Victorian well-mannered sensitivities, got the message across. Ambiguity is very much with us these days, a weapon of choice for those who govern. I try to avoid politics when writing this stuff, it’s such a messy business, but recent events have forced me to front up.

I know I bang on about it, but this identity thing is causing concern, especially since those at the Beehive have raised the stakes to include the 'level playing field' concept. I'm not anti-politico and I'm sure they've got heaps of stuff to deal with, including each other, but the Health and Disability Legislation (which I suspect, like most things, is under the microscope) affects me and I feel entitled to know where I stand. That, of course, is a problem when those who shape our laws decide to tinker. It seems to me, simple soul that I am, that once they embark on 'improvement' they seem to decide that clarity isn't in our best interest. Once a Bill is proposed, complications become practically mandatory and when everyone dips their oar in, the prospect of clearly defined legislation in a timely manner starts to diminish. I'm far too timid to suggest they’d ignore input from interested parties but the need for a squadron of consultants and advisors could be questioned. Surely a select committee hearing, House debates and the inevitable amendments should protect most interests?

To be serious

I've long bemoaned the fact that most folk seem to regard finding a lighter side of disability distasteful. For my part, I've got enough of the weighty stuff on hand and I don't feel the need to import any more. When you consider the amount of humorous material we can draw upon when people start tying ribbons around ordinary words, there's got to be a bit of fun in there. And if anyone mentions 'The Big Picture' again, I'll scream. It’s not that long ago when a group from within the blind community spent time discussing the relative merits of the terms 'empowering' and 'enabling', while another – presumably educated – team decided it was of some importance whether I should be considered ‘handicapped’ or ‘disabled’.

To relieve them of any further stress, I'm simply blind. As Humpty Dumpty once said, that means, precisely that, “Nothing more, nothing less”. Predictably, they went on to ask for feedback, which, given their penchant for verbal elastics, could also refer to a gastric disorder. Aren’t words fun when folk get tweaking them to fit a cause?

A note from the trenches

Dear Minister, it’s me, the old Blindy. Before reaching for the rubber stamp, please consider the basics – they're what we're most comfortable with. I, for one, like plain speak in my pigeonhole and being referred to as 'handicapped' makes me feel like a runner in the 2.30 and ‘disabled' could well suggest a sabotaged piece of machinery. Surely those that came up with 'infrastructure' for drains and stuff can give us something slightly academic or even flattering by way of a collective term? There must be heaps of folk sloshing around the offices down there, tormented by little else than idle thought and the ambition to appear indispensable? Perhaps they could brainstorm on this one? I'm not trying to pass the buck here, just trying to be included while retaining my clarity of thought.

There's got to be a word for it

And God knows I've tried but the D and H words, along with 'impaired', don't really suit. They seem to hint that there's something seriously wrong with me and, apart from a jaundiced view of things, I don't believe there is. 'Challenged' used to imply an invitation to a chivalrous resolution, but these days it covers everything from bike races to sexual dysfunction. While I love words, I can't compete with those intent on bending perfectly adequate old ones or inventing the new. I have advanced retinitis pigmentosa, or to put it plainly, I'm blind. Maybe I need to 'upskill' my 'input' to assist with the feedback on the Health and Disability legislation, but, as mother would say, a wise man knows the value of surrender and sanity beckons, so it’s back to the porch and a glass of single malt where the best thoughts dwell. At the risk of being regarded as frivolous, “Here's looking at you.”

Born in the UK, our ‘white-caner’ columnist, retired Dunedin antiques dealer Trevor Plumbly, was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa more than 20 years ago and now lives in Auckland.