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| Ragged Edge EXTRA!
Read John Kelly's Inspiration |
By John B. Kelly BOSTON, April 23, 2003 -- It is striking what different meanings compliments can hold. It depends on the context. Said out of cheerful well-wishing and admiration, the phrase "Good for you!" compliments an individual on an accomplishment or a good thing in their life. It expresses that person-to-person concern and respect that we all depend on in our everyday lives. Shift the phrase slightly, to "Good for him/her," though -- and the context to impersonal, condescending commentary on a perceived inferior -- and a completely different meaning emerges.
The annual running of the Boston Marathon is a huge local event. Over the past five years or so, the wheelchair racers have been given increasingly serious coverage: camera trucks running ahead of the leader, experienced wheelchair racers serving as commentators. But when it comes to the words coming out of the announcers' mouths, condescension and dismissal is the norm. As live footage showed Ernst Van Dyk, the men's wheelchair division winner, receiving his laurel wreath, the announcer could think of nothing to say but "Good for him." As in: his achievement has meaning only for him, not for us (normal viewers); indeed, from the normal perspective, he can keep his achievement, "we" want nothing of it. A little later, as the camera focused on the able-bodied men's division leader as he approached the finish line, a commentator said with awe and wonder, "It's hard to imagine what is passing through his mind right now." As in: wouldn't it be wonderful to be in his situation -- what would it feel like? Sports telecasts continually ask this question. Able-bodied victors are queried, again and again, "How does it feel right now?" The invariable response of "Great!" does nothing to quench the thirst for the experience of success, however vicarious. From the normal perspective, these achievements really are "for us"; it is what the watching is all about. Last night, the TV news-magazine Chronicle did a wrap-up on the race. At the end of the show, Christina Ripp, the winner of the women's wheelchair division, said to the camera that she had never been so happy: "I was almost crying as I crossed the finish line." Host Peter Mehegan turned to the camera. "That's good news for Christina," he said, "but the real story has to be the continuing dominance in the men's division by the Kenyan men." Ripp's victory, his comment seemed to say, wasn't "real"; it spoke of nothing of any shared exaltation of the moment, but simply revealed a not-very-important moment in one woman's (pathetic) life. This disparity in the way announcers talk about disabled athletes and non-disabled ones results from the huge gulf that normal people set up between themselves and disabled people. The announcers refuse to identify with wheelchair racers as they do with the "normal" racers -- and since they presume that everyone watching concurs, they frame any disabled achievement as a personal story, perhaps good for individual self-esteem but little else. For years, Natalie Jacobson, the queen of the Boston media, has summed up Marathon clips of the wheelchair athletes (and of non-athlete "inspirations" like Katie Lynch and Rick Hoyt) with that same phrase: "Good for her." "Good for him." She reassures her audience: don't worry, this has nothing to do with us normals; but aren't we so kind to watch these little, "special" victories with a smile fixed on our faces?
John B. Kelly is a Boston-based disability activist working on a Ph.D. in Sociology at Brandeis University. His other stories for Ragged Edge have included Michael Moore and Me and Incontinence. WHAT DO YOU THINK of what you've just read? Click to tell us.
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