As you know, months ago, Alison Lapper commissioned me to co-write her essay on What makes us Human? for BBC Radio 2 Jeremy Vine show. Excitement didn't come close and I quickly set to work.
Ali and I bashed ideas around over lunches and coffees. We wandered down some blind alleys, but eventually there was enough material for me to get my teeth into. After watching The Elephant Man and listening to earlier speakers, I was ready to show Ali the first draft. She liked it a lot and it gave us something to work on. A few drafts later, the job was complete and last Wednesday it was time to deliver.
After umpteen read throughs, we had one last practice on the train up to London. Alison read it beautifully despite her dyslexia and the distraction of a ruler, which kept her eyes focused on one line at a time.
Ali and I bashed ideas around over lunches and coffees. We wandered down some blind alleys, but eventually there was enough material for me to get my teeth into. After watching The Elephant Man and listening to earlier speakers, I was ready to show Ali the first draft. She liked it a lot and it gave us something to work on. A few drafts later, the job was complete and last Wednesday it was time to deliver.
After umpteen read throughs, we had one last practice on the train up to London. Alison read it beautifully despite her dyslexia and the distraction of a ruler, which kept her eyes focused on one line at a time.
Even before we left Shoreham, she was nervous. BBC Radio 2 gets over 13 million listeners, and the last time she spoke to Jeremy Vine they had had a run in. Moreover, the format of essay then interview, meant that she would be playing to her weaknesses before she could play to her strengths.
Nerves worsened when we got into the studio because the microphone impeded her view of the essay. We'd spent hours practising. We'd fine tuned the text. We'd highlighted words in bold so they were clearer. We'd increased spaces, even changed what" to "wot." We'd done too much to be thwarted by a mere microphone. However, there was no time to worry, for moments later Ali was live on air.
Nerves worsened when we got into the studio because the microphone impeded her view of the essay. We'd spent hours practising. We'd fine tuned the text. We'd highlighted words in bold so they were clearer. We'd increased spaces, even changed what" to "wot." We'd done too much to be thwarted by a mere microphone. However, there was no time to worry, for moments later Ali was live on air.
The problem with this question
is that you have to find universal characteristics that link people like Hitler
with Mother Theresa.
I could have a stab at it
and say, freedom of choice, and the desire to humanize everything, but an
Anthropologist may hiss, “What about X?” A
human rights campaigner may snap, “Saudi Arabia huh?” And
you’ll always get that plonker who’ll yell, “You don’t even look human love, so how can
you talk?”
However you cut it, humans are
incredibly different, so this is a nightmarish question, unless you are an
expert, of course. But I’m only an expert on my life, and the challenges disabled
people face.
Based on that, I think there are
four vital things that make us human,
the need to love, the need to be loved,
and the need to be accepted and respected as a human being in the first
place.
In the introduction to this
series, we hear some lines from The Elephant Man. John
Merrick said them when he was chased into a railway toilet and trapped between two
rows of urinals. With his back against
the wall, he screamed at the mob, “ I
am not an animal! I am NOT an ANIMAL! I am
a human being!” and of course he was. But to be treated like a human being,
you have to be accepted as one.
When I was trapped at Chailey, I
was too afraid to scream, but then, I was only tiny and didn’t even know that I
was different. I understood that I was one of the 250, “strange little creatures,”
that lived there. But we were in the majority, so acceptance wasn’t an issue.
It only became an issue when
we were faced with the outside world. That was a whole different ball game.
As toddlers, we were taken to
Brighton Beach, and we emptied it in 10 minutes because people dragged their
kids away. They said we were disgusting and shouldn’t be allowed out.
We were never asked if we
minded being repeatedly sprawled naked in front of 10 to 15 medical
professionals, and endlessly poked, pulled, rotated and photographed. Every Wednesday
afternoon, wealthy donors would peer at us through the classroom windows. They didn’t
seem to see children, just poor, pathetic, unloved creatures.
Although we’ve come a long way
since then, I’m still stared at. Some passers-by will do a double-take if I’m
heard making an intelligent comment.
I’m told I intimidate people. I
make people feel uncomfortable, or even turn their stomachs. Why? Disabled
people aren’t a different species. We are human beings with the same needs
and aspirations as everyone else, and
everyone has a basic need to be accepted.
I think that is why John
Merrick said to Treves at the end of the film, “My life is full because I am
loved.” Now he could die in peace. Society had finally accepted him for wot* he had always been, a human
being who just happened to be disabled.
Merrick also mentioned love, and I
believe that loving, and being loved also make us human.
When I was little, the ward
sister would say, “Put that crying baby down. They
don’t need a hug.” In her eyes, children like us didn’t need human contact, let alone
love.
We were all treated the same way,
so we grew up thinking that that was normal. Mind you,
at the age of five, I also thought it was normal to be taken to Lewes Prison to
visit the inmates. Our surroundings were so alike, it seemed that the only contrast
between us, was we were locked away as punishment for being different, and they
were locked away as punishment for doing wrong.
Yet, I was aware that kindness
made me feel loved. Kindness, that I had experienced from my foster parents, my sister,
some of the nursing and teaching staff at Chailey. But of them all, my rock was always
Nurse Mary Shepherd. Because of her, I recognised that humans
were more than just fed, watered, educated and disciplined.
Despite my up bringing, the need
to love and be loved was instinctive.
As I grew up, I felt love and respect
toward my friends and myself. As
I grew older, I fell in love, I made
love and experienced the joy of parental love.
I still do, but these
feelings, feelings that make us human, are often denied to people like me because
of our disabilities.
So, what do I
think makes us human? Four needs, to love, to be loved, to be accepted and
respected.
Finished.
The relief was palpable.
During her chosen song, I left the studio for Ali didn't need my strengths anymore, she could use her own. She shone in the following interview. She moved listeners to tears and her essay was described as one of the best.
For me personally, I'm proud of my friend and my involvement in the project. I'm delighted that I've had my first paid commission, but I'm also mortified that the NewStatesman inexplicably, and unjustly, removed my name as co-writer when they published the essay. That said, no-one can remove the fact that we did a good day's work on Wednesday and, as Ali said, I hope her contribution to the series has helped to change attitudes towards disability.
Thanks for popping by and see you next week.
Ta-ra.