And now, here’s this week’s second anonymous Angry Cripple, who as you’ll see, is none too impressed with the first one
I am an angry cripple. A real one. Not someone who claims they are “crippled by the system” or gets all euphemistic about it.
I’m an actual cripple. I use a wheelchair for 98 per cent of my waking life. I have physical ‘deformities’, or so the medical profession has told me since I was old enough to understand. I’m one of those people you see on the street that makes you shift uncomfortably in your coat. I’m stared at, I’m patronised, I’m told I don’t belong among you normal people.
But none of these things are the reason that I’m angry. I’m an Angry Cripple today because, usually, I’m a Proud Cripple. I’m well practiced at ignoring the stares, at challenging the patronising tone, at standing my ground in a world that doesn’t welcome me. I’m not alone. We’re a pretty common breed us Proud Cripples. Sometimes people like to call us activists.
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