I know the age of consent is generally 18. That’s the age
where we’re considered to be old enough to understand what we’re getting into
when we do stuff like have sex.
If you’re 18 you can kill people, as long as you join the
armed forces first. And you can also vote but you can’t drink beer.
But I think there are some things for which the age of
consent ought to be a whole lot higher than 18. One of those things in
particular is shilling for cripple charities. Believe me, I know. I used to be
one of those charity spokescriplets. I was a poster child for the Muscular
Dystrophy Association. But by the grace of God it was way back when I was cute
and apple-cheeked. And that was long before the internet, so precious little,
if any, historical record of my reign remains. These days, if you do something
regrettable in public, it’s likely to be recorded somehow and forever enshrined
on the internet.
It’s true that nobody held a gun to my head and forced me to
be a poster kid. I did it for the same reason I went to church. My heart wasn’t
in it but doing it pleased the adults around me. But I can see now that I was
far too young to understand the potential consequences of my actions.
There was no way I could begin to comprehend concepts like
oppression and it’s deep cultural roots and how the life-blood of cripple
oppression is the insidious mask of benevolence and compassion it hides behind
and the manner in which my playing the role of an eternally-grateful Tiny Tim
with no agency except my begging prowess deepens the roots of cripple
oppression by reinforcing the one-dimensional stereotypes on which it thrives.
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