Journal of pediatric rehabilitation medicine | 2021
Speechless: Rolling in the right direction.
Abstract
Originating in 16th century Central European politics [1] and subsequently becoming a slogan for democratic norms, the phrase in its English form came into use in disability activism in the 1990s and has since come to represent many marginalized groups. In the disability community, it is a rallying cry, a call for awareness of the decades-old trend of casting temporarily able-bodied actors and actresses in roles with disabilities. Often, especially recently, these decisions are made ostensibly with narrative purpose: many actors living with disabilities cannot portray both the before and after of an acquired or degenerative condition. Glee’s Artie Abrams, a glee club member with a spinal cord injury, couldn’t have a dream sequence about rising from his chair and busting a move [2] if portraying actor Kevin McHale wasn’t a prodigious dancer. But the former situation could be remedied by alternative narrative choices or double casting, while the latter would benefit from an improved recognition of the profound beauty and athleticism of wheelchair dance. Then, there are a host of less well-intentioned casting decisions, stemming from an ignorance of the depth of the disabled community’s talent pool or even from an outright refusal to search within it. It seems that stories about characters living with disabilities are deemed worthy of telling, but often through a lens of convenience or star power that both reinforces ableism through magnetism for award nods, and misrepresents the critical lived experience of the characters. In 2016, into this controversial landscape rolled ABC’s Speechless, a family sitcom centered on the DiMeos, a plucky family of five whose oldest teen, JJ, has Cerebral Palsy (CP) and utilizes a power wheelchair. The titular impairment requires JJ to use a communication board as well. The show instantly sets itself apart in that Micah Fowler, who portrays JJ, has CP, and the show’s creator, Scott Silveri, based the show and JJ’s character on his own family and brother, Gregory, who had CP and was nonverbal. The lived experiences of creator and star make their indelible, genuine mark on every aspect of the show, and rather than treat those experiences as secondary, the narrative lovingly embraces them. JJ has dream sequences too, even ones involving superpowers, and he’s still in his chair and unable to speak in those dreams. Like it does for many of us, disability forms a part of his identity. Speechless comes out of the gate swinging against stereotypes, ableism, and accessibility, and never even slows down until several episodes in. The very first formal introduction of JJ’s character has his fiercely (over)protective mother, Maya, yelling from their wheelchair van lift at a bystander, “[His arms] need a bit of a tune up, but he’s all there up here, and he has a thing about staring!” The pilot episode alone hits on accessible parking (or lack thereof), building accessibility, school and district resources, the common issue of relocation to find better services for a child living with disabilities, disproportionate attention on these children relative to their siblings, conflating forms of discrimination, lumping all disability together (“My cousin is deaf, so he gets it”), and my personal favorite: the human impulse now wryly referred to as ‘inspiration porn’. JJ wheels into his classroom for the first time to a standing ovation, shouts of “You’re an inspiration!” and calls for