The Tragic Pageantry of Disability Grants
MASSIVE FINANCIAL GAIN!
That’s right! All you need to do is paralyse yourself or get a life-altering disability some other way that will forever change the way people interact with you to bring in that big and easy paycheck!
*TERMS AND CONDITIONS INCLUDE: long-term mental illness and low self-worth from a shitload of guilt.
_____________________________
The disability grants I’ve been able to get have made my life significantly easier. The wheelchair that allows me to get around, and access to experiences I never would’ve had otherwise. It can feel like a wonderful blessing at times. A desperately needed wish that has been granted.
But they never tell you about the cost. The unexpected monkey’s paw of this wish you only made ‘cause you needed to. The pageantry nature of it all, where you must dress up the ‘tragedy’ for a board of judges to decide if you are needy enough to receive financial aid. The unspoken sense of competition you can feel with your peers who are also going for the same, extremely limited, aid. How it becomes difficult to keep facts about your anatomy private from strangers when it’s become second nature to talk up the difficulties.
The finishing stroke is the guilt.
How fucked is it when the thing that causes you sadnesses is also the reason your family can eat some nights?
I feel guilty feeling bad about my disability when it provides so many benefits – try talking about that in therapy when the thing that pays your therapist is the cause of your problems.
But part of this guilt started to fall away in June, when the Government decided to dump the programme topping up the pay of disabled workers to the minimum wage. To save $56 million, we could see 900-plus workers, mostly with intellectual disabilities paid as low as $2 an hour. But the Government says it’s better than not working at all.
This is a slap in the face to all the ways disabled people must demean themselves to get financial support. For example, I can’t marry if I still need financial support from the Government, because my lover is obviously also meant to be my caregiver and sole provider. I know I joke about wanting a sugar daddy a lot, but this seems a bit extreme.
While I wish I didn’t have to make out my life to be a total tragedy if I want to get the support I need to survive, thanks PM/knock-off Lex Luthor/Dr Eggman hybrid for fucking me over even more so I don’t feel so bad.