When Strangers Read My Body: Blurred Boundaries and the Search for Something Spiritual

When Strangers Read My Body by Olivia Wise.

Olivia Wise (oliviawisestudio.com)

The encounter was not all that different from others I’ve had on the street — a rupture in my peace of mind. It was well past midnight, and I walked the streets alone, delighted to bask in the warmth of a productive day. A figure came into focus, dressed in colors dark as the night.

At first the stranger’s words were muted by the music blaring through my headphones — my temporary barrier against the many interlocutors who feel entitled to interaction once they notice my limp. This visibility is something I cannot hide, and I don’t attempt to do so. However, I take pride in having the opportunity to engage, interact, and experience the world on my own terms. The interactions others feel entitled to have can feel like a disruption of my attempt to have privacy while out in public.

“Tú estás vendiendo Biblias?” the stranger asked. [Are you selling Bibles?]

“No,” I replied, “Estos son libros y libretas con varios notas del día.” [These are books and notebooks with various notes from today.]

“What is it about my body that invites these questions about selling Bibles and these spontaneous blessings?” Gomez asks. Pop on Top by Carol Es.

Carol Es (esart.com)

I might have looked like a salesman of sorts — suit, tie, messenger bag, and camel coat — but I couldn’t put a finger on the nature or context of the interaction. Surprisingly, the stranger spoke to me in Spanish, a bit unusual since I am often read as white in a predominately Latino/a community, despite being Latino.

“Dios está a tu la’o, vaya con Dios” [God is always by your side, go with God], the man said as we parted ways.

Just as so many others have done before, the stranger chose to bestow the blessings of God on me — a Latino man with cerebral palsy — in particular that night, singling me out among all the people in the street that evening. Did he single me out because he assumed I had a disability? If so, did he see me as having a special spiritual status because of it?

Anonymity and Agency

Experiences such as these — strangers pulling over to offer me a ride, a woman struggling to make eye contact with me before speaking, fellow shoppers at a local Wal-Mart pausing in my presence and offering “God Bless You” — are an ensemble of others’ attempts to construct my body linguistically, spiritually, and physically. Sometimes these interactions upset me; other times I find myself performing the expected script of the humble and thankful individual exchanging a pleasantry. Some strangers conflate my physical disability with other emotional, cognitive, psychological, or learning disabilities. What goes unsaid speaks volumes: the assumptions, expectations, prejudices, dominant narratives, language barriers, and behaviors that already seem to frame the extent and context of these interactions, even before they occur. Some of them are easy to identify and name; others are as mind-bending as the context clues in a crossword puzzle. What is it about my body that invites these questions about selling Bibles and these spontaneous blessings?

I struggle to make sense of these interactions that, while well intentioned, nevertheless work to erase my anonymity and agency. I manage to be invisible in some contexts and all too visible in others; on a number of occasions I have fallen in public and no one has responded, as if I were the only person walking the streets. My body is marked as worthy of attention and intervention, yet perceived as receptive of that conversation — my interlocutors do not imagine that I may feel disagreement, anger, or resentment in response to their interventions.

I occupy a position of privilege in these interactions as an able-bodied disabled man who has the education and communication skills to ask that others be more sensitive and understanding toward “difference.” When approached by these strangers, am I read...