I didn’t want to write about or even watch “Wildflower” all
that much, at first. I really do think my first response was somewhere between “Ugh,”
and “Ew,”(Which is one thing considering that algorththmic “instincts” are not infallible—I
get shown things because I once liked a british actor with big teeth, and I can
see why the machines thought sitcom legends+disability themes in a gentle
perfect word and thought “Hey, Chica, we got you.”)
And maybe they will. But at least part
of my disgust is brought on by
Lateral ableism
https://meryl.net/ableism-microaggressions/
(I don’t say that because I think I’m a jerk, I mean, sometimes, sure. But I think we’re taught from the beginning that There Can Only Be One more than we’re not, despite the wider culture tending to think we all live in the same(impoverished) bucket. The long and short of it is though—for me to be quick, maybe somebody else has to be slow—and that’s, you know, really bad. We may all have crumbs but it’s really important that I’m better at cataloging them and whatnot(and it’s okay that I’m proud of my quick thinking as long as I don’t have to look down on someone to feel it.) So, I’m giving “Wildflower” another look today and posting this, as well as a sort of challenge to myself and to try to keep the blog honest. There are parts of the disability experience that aren’t that cute, I’m sorry to say.
