I've missed you while I was on holiday, but it did give me an idea for a new video.

So let's talk about why the word "special" is problematic.

You should probably also talk about why the word problematic is problematic, but that's for another day.

In the meantime, if you're new here remember to please click the subscribe button,

and if you're not new, still check that the bell notification is actually switched on

to be notified when I post new videos.

Also, exciting news, this Friday is International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia,

and Transphobia, and to celebrate

I will be bringing back the "Because Gay" merch by popular demand!

I know some of you weren't able to pick up anything when it was available last time,

so I'm going to keep it going until after Pride season. But today we are going to be talking about my other

marginalized identity!

Spoiler: the title is ironic. Whenever I travel by air, I use something called

"Special Assistance." In the EU, if you're a passenger with a disability or reduced mobility

you are legally entitled to support when traveling for free. You don't have to be disabled

lots of older people use it, or people who have issues

interacting and communicating with the general public. If you can't walk far, they'll bring you a wheelchair.

If you can't hear well, they'll provide either a little device that flashes when an announcement about your plane goes out,

or they'll have a person to help guide you around.

It's really amazingly helpful, and it means you'll have a less stressful journey.

It's part of EU law, but similar passenger rights apply in other countries that I have been to, including the United States.

However,

we did have some troubles with it while we were flying between countries in Asia, as they either

didn't have the service, or wanted a fee, or needed some kind of verification of disability,

which... no! They don't give you a badge when you get diagnosed. My doctor didn't staple a letter to my forehead

It made me think about the word "special," though, particularly the term "special needs."

I'm going to do a lot of air quoting and I'm really sorry about that.

It's a phrase that a lot of disabled people take issue with. Think about it: when I say

"special needs student," we tend to think of a child with a disability. When I say

"special needs teacher," we tend to think of an adult who teaches children with disabilities, rather than a disabled teacher.

"Special kids find special parents" is the same thing: the idea that you need to be a

amazing superhuman to care for a person with a disability.

It's not great. People say my wife is special for loving a disabled person, as if that's something that

99.9% of humanity just wouldn't be able to do.

Thanks. It's a real ego boost. When we think about it, "special" is a very othering word in any sense

To say that a person has "special needs" implies that you have to go above and beyond for them,

that they're just as much bother as a

celebrity guest who requests that you pick out all the green sweets, provide a basket of puppies, and sprinkle glitter in their path.

Okay, that actually sounds amazing. Please do that for me.

But "special" might just reveal a rather tragic view of people with disabilities.

I mean, when we call someone "special," we dissociate from them as much as we do from that celebrity.

It's just, "I'm normal, but you're special!"

I'm like, "the celebrity is not special in a good way." Are these needs really so special, though? Is needing a ramp any

different to the vegetarian asking for no meat on their plate?

Well, okay, yes. In some ways; disabled people did not make an active choice, and they cannot pop out to the [?] shop to buy

a replacement. "Special" people - or even the "superhumans" of the Paralympics - advertising subtly

dehumanizes those disabilities. And I'm not saying that it's intentional, but inevitably

authoring language creates a form of ranking. People with disabilities are often seen as less valuable

than those who aren't disabled, and language reflects that, even if that isn't the intention.

Of course, we can also see it in the way that language is used: for example, speaking to a person in a wheelchair

as if they are a child.

But hang on!

I am the last person to say that we should be ignoring the extra needs of people with disabilities, and pretending that we're all

the same! Because... we're definitely not.

Yes, we say a child has "special needs" because they are not the same things that every child will face.

And yes, the intention is to be kind. But we need to reconsider how we're classifying things.

Why does "classify" never sound good when it's in the context of people? Look, language is deeply deeply confusing. I get it.

I mean, you may be yelling "Am I even allowed to say 'disabled person' anymore?"

or "Why is 'person with a disability' offensive? What am I meant to say?"

Again, it's a minefield, and yes, "disabled people" is considered offensive to some, who prefer "person with a disability."

But some prefer it along with "the disabled," which, to my mind, is completely different and also *awful.*

"The [identity]" never sounds good. Oh, sure, we reclaimed "the gays," thanks to irony,

but "the blacks?" No, no, no, no, no, don't do that!

No.

That's never coming back.

The main argument when it comes to terminology around disability centers on identity-first versus person-first language.

Quick explainer: Identity-first language is where a part of a person's identity - a descriptor - is used as a noun.

For example, "redhead" or "lesbian." this frames

This frames the identity as being an important part of who the person is.

Person-first language puts the identity or descriptor second after their personhood.

For example, "girl with red hair," or "girl who is a homosexual."

This frames the identity as being

just part of who that person is. When we're talking about these two types of language in the framework of disability,

we're discussing whether disability is something that you have, or something that is at the core of your identity.

Okay. So the last one which will come out, person-first language, is the terminology many in North America will have heard of.

Person with a disability. Person of color. Person with diabetes. Person who is homeless.

It was formed as part of a shift away from outdated terms, like handicapped or retarded.

Which, yes, is still offensive, even if you think it's funny.

Equally, "spaz" and "mong." Shut your face.

These older terms were once part of disability organization and government agency names, awkwardly.

For example, in 1975, the Education for All Handicapped Children Act was passed by Congress

to mandate the inclusion of disabled children in public schools.

Good thing, bad name.

In 1990, however,

it was renamed the

individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). The same year, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) was passed.

The ADA provides broad civil rights to the disability community, and mechanisms to fight discrimination

against people with disabilities. Thanks.

This prominent disability rights legislation helped to promote the change to people-first language.

It was a shift in terminology that came from the government and many North American disability organizations.

However, it was not universally liked. Disabled people do not engage in groupthink,

Or, if we do, no one's invited me yet, and I'm actually gonna be quite hurt about it.

Geography also affects the debate, as in Britain

our preference has always been for identity-first language.

Disabled person. Diabetic. Autistic person. And broadening that, "black person" or "short person." Description!

Obviously, "deaf person" is kind of its own little section of this argument, as deaf-with-a-big-D isn't just a descriptor,

it's also a culture. People who prefer identity-first language -

Hi, that's me!

- like it, as they consider their disabilities to be inseparable parts of who they are.

Many in the British disability studies academic world, and disability

activists here, say that the term "people with disabilities" doesn't fit with the social model of disability,

the idea that society's barriers and negative attitudes are what actually disable people - sidenote, it's a thing

I don't personally agree with because while, yes,

there are some disabilities that when you are alone in your house are not necessarily disabling,

there are many that are. Crippling migraines, for example; I'm not disabled by how society treats my pain. I'm disabled by my pain.

So I personally prefer terminology such as "disabled" and "deaf,"

because those are inherent parts of my identity, much like I am gay, a Quaker, or chatty.

Identity-first language is particularly popular in the autistic community,

because for many autistic people, they feel that their brain wiring is just part of who they are, rather than being a defect.

Thus, when you say "autistic person," you're actually recognizing, affirming, and validating that person's identity!

We're saying that being autistic is not in some way irreconcilable with being a valuable human being!

When someone calls me a "person with disabilities," I do cringe a bit inside.

It kind of feels like they're taking all of the bits of me that they consider to be good and putting them at the start, and then following it up with the bad bit.

[sarcastically] Don't worry, I see you for the amazing person you *really* are.

No, you don't, then.

There are obviously many other disabled people who disagree with me on this, and I am sure many of you watching will as well.

Ultimately, "disabled person" is, for me, an acceptance that an individual is different from a non-disabled person, but that it isn't a tragedy.

I don't want someone to be afraid or ashamed

to recognize that difference, because I don't want to put "disabled" into the "bad" or "other" category.

It isn't negative to say I'm disabled.

It's a statement of fact. Equally, acting like I'm an alien from another planet

who needs "special measures" that other people have to get out of their way to provide

doesn't exactly make me feel welcome.

So what would I like to see at the airport rather than "special assistance?"

How about just "assistance?" They're assisting me. They're not assisting the person sitting next to me on the flight. So why is mine "special?"

If you're gonna call it that, it should at least come with a free upgrade.

Please? I'm flying to LA in two weeks time. Thanks.

The debate about "disabled person," "person with disabilities," and "special needs" isn't just semantics, okay?

Language and how we use it affects those around us, both those immediately around us and our wider society.

Language can transform ideas and attitude. It's so important!

but most importantly, the "100% needs to be taken into consideration fact"

is, however, that disabled people have different feelings on the matter, and those need to be taken into consideration.

I'm not gonna tell another disabled person how they should feel

or how they should want to be referred to. If you tell me to use person-first language when talking about you,

that's what I'm going to do. "Special" is, in a disability context, to me, pretty othering.

But if you want me to call you "special," then I am more than happy to. I mean, we're all special in our own way.

Please let's not start using "handi-capable" or "differently-abled," because then I will have to vomit on you. I mean, could anything be more patronizing?

What do you feel? If you have a disability, do you prefer person-first language or

identity-first language, and would you say you're influenced by British English or American English?

And if you don't have a disability, do you get really concerned about using the wrong language? I mean, I do, and I'm disabled!

Oh, it's a minefield, I tell you.

Thank you so much for watching! I hope you've enjoyed this video!

Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments, and I will see you on Friday!

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