People and the things that they do

John Young is a friend of mine from Facebook.  Over the Christmas Holiday, he visited his home town in Canada.  While in Canada, he had to deal with people trying to take his picture at least twice. The incidents happened while he was out for a run.  John's nephew suggested that he write about what happened, which he did.  He submitted the story to local papers.  I am not sure if the piece was published, but John also posted the story on his blog.

I also went away for the Christmas Holiday.  I went to visit my in-laws, who live outside of a small town in North Central New Jersey.  Like John, I went jogging while I was away.  I went twice, fairly early in the morning.  Once on Christmas Day and once on December 27.  I heard about John and the pictures between my first and second run.  Knowing what had happened to John, I was hyper aware of anyone around me during the second run.  Thankfully, nothing happened.  The most attention I generated was not from people but rather from two big yellow dogs that lived on the property across the road from my in-laws.  They started to bark at me as soon as I turned from the driveway on to the two-lane asphalt road.  They followed me to the edge of the property line and then continued barking until I was out of sight.  

I really enjoy my visits to New Jersey.  But the fact that nothing happened to me while I was running is not a reflection of North Central New Jersey humanity compared to Orangeville, Ontario, where John Young visited.  I have no idea how many people John saw during his runs, but, between my two runs, I saw a total of two cars on the road, and four other people.  Each of the other people I saw was also running.  Two cars and four people is not a large enough sample size to reach the conclusion that the roads of Bernardsville, New Jersey are cooler than Orangeville, Ontario.

I thought about John's story again this morning. Back in Chicago, I took another run.  I followed a route I often take; a route on which I've never had a problem.  But typically, if I run outside in Chicago, I run on Saturday or Sunday mornings.  I don't know if I've ever run outside on Monday during the morning commute.  Running along sidewalks this morning, I was forced to navigate several cars that zoomed into intersections, came to a rolling stop over pedestrian crossings, and waited for a break in the traffic before making a right hand turn.  But I was unable to avoid the driver of a gray sport utility vehicle that, while heading north, made a u-turn over a median that divided the north and southbound lanes.  Now moving south, the driver, with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand holding a phone, took my picture.

In the hours that followed my run, I thought about many things.  I thought about John and all the other people with dwarfism to which this type of thing happens.  No one should have to suffer this indignity, but it's nice to be in the company of good people.  I thought about the driver.  I wondered if the driver mistook me for Peter Dinklage.  Why else would a driver go at least two u-turns out of his or her way to get my picture?  I thought about the mother from Australia who murdered her six-month old daughter because she believed her baby had dwarfism.  Developing strategies that protect the community from infanticide feels much more urgent than strategies to deal with bootleg pictures of dwarfs.  

Finally, I thought, what does it matter?  By all measures, the dwarfism community builds more awareness every year.  As we build awareness, we have more resources to implement the right to participate in our communities on a level playing field.  We have more resources to protect ourselves from discrimination, and to portray ourselves as people who embrace our dwarfism but are not defined by our dwarfism.  Though we get stronger, we will most likely always have to deal with individuals who may or may not be shitty people but who sometimes do shitty things.  The shitty things probably won't ever go away.  That's why I ask myself, what does it matter how I respond to the shitty thing perpetrated by the driver of the gray sport utility vehicle?  That's why I tell myself, focus on the big picture.

But it does matter.  It matters because the shitty things create a hostile environment for the person with dwarfism.  It matters because the shitty things interrupt the course of our days.  Because it matters, I am grateful for people like John and for scores of other people with dwarfism who don't tolerate anyone that interrupts the course of their days.  Because of them and what they do, the big picture is changing.



 

So much more than a Marathon

A few weeks ago, thousands of runners from around the world geared up for the Boston Marathon.  Millions of family members, friends, and supporters of those runners were ready to cheer on the Marathoners.  For me, and for many other people with dwarfism, the race this year would have more significance than ever before.  Two athletes with dwarfism had qualified to run the Boston Marathon on April 15, 2013.  I know of at least one other dwarf who has run a marathon, a man from Poland who had limb lengthening surgery.  But Juli Windsor and John Young were the first people with dwarfism to qualify for the Boston Marathon.  Enthusiasm for Juli and John within the dwarfism community reached an apex on Sunday, April 14 when a front page article about Juli and John was published in the Boston Globe.   I am not sure at what point something on the internet qualifies as "going viral," but within a few hours the Boston Globe article saturated the news feeds of hundreds of little people with Facebook pages.

Both Juli and John used the Boston Globe opportunity to advocate for awareness.  They both talk about the obstacles they are forced to deal with because of their physical differences. Most of those obstacles relate to the inability of strangers to deal with difference.  Both Juli and John run to deal with the obstacles and send a positive message about dwarfism.  In a section about John, the Boston Globe reporter David Abel wrote, "'The people who support and encourage me are the ones that get me to the starting line, while the ones who doubt or ridicule me are the ones that carry me to the finish line,' he said. 'Whenever I really start to hurt, I think of someone laughing, pointing, and saying, ‘You can’t do that!’ and it seems to give me the strength to carry on.'"

John Young. Photo taken from Boston Globe Article on April 14

 
Everyone, not just those running  the Marathon and those following the Marathon, knows what happened in Boston on April 15 in the afternoon.  I was at work when I heard about the explosions.  Like so many others, I took to the internet to verify what my office mates had said, and to try to learn more details.  Once it became clear that the horrific explosions had occurred, I went to social media.  I soon learned that in addition to Juli and John, several other members of Little People of America were in Boston, among the thousands of spectators cheering on the runners. Though many events surrounding the Marathon were tragedies that continued to unfold days after April 15, I found a small piece of what happened within the dwarfism community on April 15 to be uplifting and encouraging. Scores of people with dwarfism rallied around Facebook.  First, people posted questions, asking about the safety of John, Juli and the spectators.  Then, people shared what information they knew, posting 'Juli is safe,' and 'John is safe.' With the runners accounted for, everyone focused on the spectators, soon learning that they too were safe. 

I didn't know many of the people posting messages over social media, but it felt good to have a connection with the community during such a frightening time.  A post Juli later made underscored just how important that connection is.  Juli was just a half mile from the finish line when the first bomb exploded.  Officials immediately closed down the course.  Juli couldn't get to where her husband, mother, and mother-in-law waited at the finish line.  They were safe, but cut off from Juli.  Unable to reach her family, Juli turned around and ran back along the course.  She wrote, "When all this happened, I ran back to John Young who I knew was less than a mile behind me. John Young, I really am so thankful you were there and it provided so much comfort to be with someone I knew. We may not have crossed the finish line, but we achieved something today."  

I hurt for all the families that were impacted by the events of April 15.  I hurt for John and Juli.  They were both so close to finishing what they had worked so hard to achieve.   But I am also grateful to John and Juli.  As Juli wrote, they did achieve something.  They brought a community together on April 15, and they made me realize how lucky I am to be part of that community.