Tag Archives: identity

Interview with Nicolette Barischoff

Interview with Nicolette Barischoff

By Derek Newman-Stille

nicolette

I was able to work with the wonderful Nicolette Barischoff when we were both included in the collection Accessing the Future (edited by Kathryn Allan and Djibril al-Ayad) a few years ago and just recently had the pleasure of working with Nicolette again when she edited my personal narrative submission as part of Uncanny Magazine’s Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction. As always, Nicolette had a plethora of ideas and I realized I had to share some of her insights with readers here on Dis(Abled) Embodiment. I want to thank Nicolette for joining us here and taking the time to do an interview.

 

Q: To start our interview off, could you tell readers a little bit about yourself?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: Well, I’m a speculative fiction writer. That’s probably the least visible and most important thing I do.  I’m also a chronically naked performance artist and art model. That’s a big part of my activism. It’s very important to me that we get people used to seeing many different types of bodies, and that we normalize the sight of visibly disabled bodies in particular. I have Spastic Cerebral Palsy and I use a wheelchair unless I feel like crawling (which I do, frequently).

 

Q: Could you tell us a bit about how you interact with disability in various ways?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: I resisted disability as a large part of my identity for a the greater part of my life. I’ve always identified as disabled (having a visible disability kind of forces you to be out and proud) but I fiercely resisted the idea of myself as Disabled Writer or a Disability Activist throughout my teens and early twenties. I think I thought of able-bodied peoples’ preoccupation with my disability as a distraction from the things I really wanted to say and write. To a certain degree, I still think that’s true. But as I grew into a proper adult, and as body and sex positivity became more and more important to me, I realized that I couldn’t be Body-Positive without being actively Disability-Positive. I have a very visibly disabled body. It’s the body I will always have. The two activisms are not separate spheres. They never can be.

 

Q: How have you interacted with ableism in the past?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: For me, ableism always seems to take the form of a struggle over personal autonomy. Many of the abled people in our lives really do want to empower us to make our own choices, but they often have trouble respecting those choices when they find them alarming or inconvenient or odd. They feel entitled, often compelled, to step in. Every disabled person I have ever met has at one time or another had their personal autonomy overridden for the comfort and convenience of the able-bodied, sometimes for the comfort and convenience of total strangers. Another off-shoot of this kind of ableism is when a disabled person is denied the assistance they need in the name of promoting their autonomy. I often encounter this at women’s clinics, where they don’t let my partner/assistant past the front desk in the name of protecting my privacy. Able people often fail to recognize a disabled person’s autonomy when it comes in the form of assisted living.

 

To be a true advocate for disabled rights (or human rights generally) is to empower autonomy, even when that autonomy is expressed in ways you do not fully understand or support.

 

Q: What does Disability Pride mean to you and what does it mean to be part of a disabled community?

 

Nicolette Barischoff:  To me, Disability Pride is Body Pride. It’s about coming to terms with the enormous variety of bodies there are in the universe, and celebrating them. There is no such thing as a “normal” body, or even a “fully-functioning” body. Every person on earth is just trying to get the most out of the body they’ve got. Disability Pride for me is about building worlds for the bodies we actually have, instead of trying to shove every body under the wheels of a great big Normalizing Machine.

 

Q: What potential is there is science fiction for thinking about disability in a different way?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: Science fiction is all about changing the shape of the world. It’s a genre that offers us the space (sometimes literally!) to imagine societies that fit our varied bodies. (Andi Buchanan would call these non-disabling worlds, worlds that don’t favor one type of body above all others.) Science fiction has all kinds of bodies and societies depicted in it. It’s kind of tailor-made for exploring relative concepts like disability.

 

Q: What are some pitfalls that literature gets into when portraying disability? What are some of the problematic tropes that arise?

 

Nicolette Barischoff:  We have had many talented essayists devote a great many words to answering this question over at Uncanny, so I won’t try to outdo them.  But I will say that one of the most common problems I see in disabled characters written by abled writers is a preoccupation with disability itself. Real disabled people have very bored and boring relationships to their bodies (because, you know, we live in them). When I wake up to my spine arching like the Brooklyn bridge, I don’t think “Oh, Gods, my disability! I hate this, this is so unfair!” I probably only have time to think, “Oh, fuck my back, today… Maybe a bath will help?”

 

Q: There is often pressure on those of us with disabilities to write about disability. How have you balanced this pressure to write disability with all of the other things you want to write about?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: Good question! And one I haven’t really found a good answer to, yet. I suppose the short answer would be that I’m very choosy about who I write about disability for. And my disabled characters don’t get to come out of my head until I have the right story for them.

 

Q: You wrote for the collection Accessing the Future. What was it like to write for an anthology that centred disability and didn’t seek to erase us from the future like so many tales of the future do?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: Wonderful! Accessing the Future means a great deal to me. It was the first science fiction story I ever wrote.

 

Q: In your story “Pirate Songs” as part of Accessing the Future, you create a wheelchair user, Margo, who is thrust into an alien environment. What was the inspiration for Margo, and in what ways was “Pirate Songs” ultimately about all of us disabled people feeling as though we have been thrust into an environment that is alien to our bodies?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: “Pirate Songs” is really a story about the fluid and flexible nature of privilege: the idea that a person can be extraordinarily privileged in some respects and utterly marginalized in others, that a person can be marvelously privileged in one environment, and horribly disadvantaged in another. The character of Margo came about as a result of a fun, funny thought experiment. Say you plucked someone from a very sleek, progressive, Roddenberry-esque “Federation of Planets” kind of society (away from all the 127 holodecks and the food replicators and the androids that play the violin) and you plunked them down in a backwater, somewhere at the very far edges of that society. What would they find? All societies look different at the margins, no matter how advanced they consider themselves to be, and if a person is disabled, that difference is all the more keenly felt. Disability is treated very differently in societies and subcultures that lack the resources to create non-disabling environments. Fear or hatred of disability often comes about when a society is too resource-poor to accommodate it.

 

Q: In what ways can our art (writing, visual arts, theatre, music) be an act of resistance to an ableist world? How can we evoke change through our art?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: I think change happens naturally as a result of the kinds of art and stories we produce. There’s a reason why book burnings and book bannings are a cornerstone of any burgeoning fascist regime. It’s because stories are natural vehicles for making us think new and uncomfortable thoughts by ancient and comfortable methods. We don’t need to TRY to make change with art. Art, by its nature, changes. All we need to do is write good stories full of wise and sensitive and beautiful human things.

 

Q: What are some things we can be doing to increase the profile of marginalized stories? So often, one of the biggest challenges is getting the sort of attention for marginalized stories that are already in place for able-bodied, straight, white, cis-gendered men’s narratives. How do we challenge this privilege in publishing?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: Good question. I don’t know that I’m entirely qualified to answer it. I think one thing we can do is invent new and unconventional ways of promoting stories. New platforms for doing so are popping up faster than publishing houses can make use of them. This is good. This subverts the gatekeepers.

 

Q: You are currently editing the personal narratives section of the Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction collection from Uncanny Magazine. What are some of the most rewarding parts of reading and sharing these personal narratives?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: It was always a fun surprise to me what each essayist chose to write about. Discovering which characters and stories are important to people and why. Oftentimes, two essayists would express totally opposite opinions on the disability rep in the same work of fiction, and they’d both make absolutely fabulous essays. That’s the sort of stuff that makes editing fun!

 

Q: What thoughts, perspectives, and ideas have these personal narratives evoked for you? How have the stories of other people opened up new viewpoints for you?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: One head-smacking moment occurred for me while reading Elise Mattheson’s essay “The Only Thing Faster Than Tonight: Mr Darkness.” She spoke on the idea that disabled people are often thought to be remarkable for simply existing (we’ve all been called “amazing” by dim and kindly strangers before, right? )  She points out that the mere fact that disabled people are alive and occupying the same space seems remarkable to able-bodied people, because there is an unspoken and unconscious belief that disabled people aren’t supposed to survive. That they aren’t supposed to live long enough to do perfectly ordinary things. That thought was a sharp tack to suddenly sit on! I couldn’t believe that I’d never thought about that aspect of it before. Anyway, there were a lot of little moments like that.

 

Q: What other current projects are you working on and how can readers find out more about your projects?

 

Nicolette Barischoff: The novel. Always the novel!  (The details of which are still misty and mysterious and very top-secret). I also have some pretty epic body-positive performance art planned for the coming year, so look out for that. You can find me on Twitter @nbarischoff or you can look up my dusty little blog, Turtles Have the Best Dreams.

 

——

 

Bio:

Nicolette Barischoff was born with spastic cerebral palsy, which has only made her more awesome. Her fiction has appeared in Long HiddenAccessing the FutureThe Journal of Unlikely AcademiaPodcastle, and Angels of the Meanwhile. She regularly writes about disability, feminism, sex- and body-positivity, and how all these fit together. Her personal essays on these topics get read way more than her fiction does, which is only a little annoying. She regularly collaborates with visual and performance artists to promote normalization of visibly disabled bodies. She’s been on the front page of CBS New York, where they called her activism public pornography and suggested her face was a Public Order Crime.

Advertisements

An Interview with Blaine Dickens

By Derek Newman-Stille

Today I have the opportunity to share an interview with Toronto-based Trans, Low Vision, Deaf/Hard of Hearing performer and playwright Blaine Dickens. In our interview Blaine talks about Deaf performance, finding a Deaf identity and community, ideas of access and inclusion and how theatre and art should be made to convey a message to all audience members.

19622630_1900861226861010_1210492473_n

 

Q: To start off our discussion, can you tell me a little bit about yourself?

 

Blaine: I’m a Trans hard of hearing/Deaf low vision trauma survivor.

 

Q: And you are very involved in the arts, right? Can you tell us a bit about some of your art involvement?

 

Blaine: Yes! I’m a theatre performer and playwright

 

Q: What performances have you been in?

 

Blaine: I just recently wrapped up a community performance called Drift Seeds with theatre company Red Dress Productions, where I was an ASL performer. Previously, I was in involved in musical theatre – a mini musical I co-created with a group of young performers at the Journey Studio, and performed in the Emperor of Bananaland with Randolph Theatre’s Pre-college program.

 

Q: That is amazing!! Did you adapt a script for ASL performance or was it a script that was already made for ASL?

 

Blaine: My Deaf castmates and I (with the help of an ASL coach for myself) adapted the script from English!

 

Q: It is so great to find out about these adaptations because so often ASL is only included as an afterthought and often interpreters are called in to interpret but aren’t prepared to perform. Can you tell us a bit about your feelings about the need for Deaf theatre?

 

Blaine: This is a super, super important thing. Theatres are starting to catch the access bug now and some are offering interpreters for performances. But if we’re giving interpreters all of the ASL work, there’s no opportunities for Deaf performers to be involved. I went through a mainstream theatre program my four years of high school – no interpreters because I didn’t know ASL at the time and no accommodations in any other form. I was super isolated from the rest of my hearing class, because I just didn’t know what was going on. I wasn’t able to comfortably participate in any hearing theatre if there were no accommodations, so I was just pretending to understand everything. If interpreters or notetakers are present, there are extra issues with that in teaching the rest of the people involved in the project how to work with Deaf performers and how to work with interpreters. Most of the time it’s just uncomfortable and isolating. When I started working on Drift Seeds with three other Deaf performers and interpreters present (almost) constantly, it was the complete opposite. We were not only able to perform in the language we were comfortable in, but we had the support from our castmates for everything: translation work, advocacy, and figuring out how to all work together smoothly. It was the first time I felt comfortable in a theatre project – it was even the first time I could understand what was going on in a theatre project!

 

And the performance was a success! That’s one bit of proof that Deaf theatre has to be a more common thing.

 

Q: It seems like theatre has had a powerful relationship to your identity. Can you tell us a bit about the role that theatre can have for helping people explore identity?

 

Blaine: Just like any kind of art! People write down their stories and things that resonate with them because they believe others should experience it! I know for me, as soon as I started performing in ASL, I just felt a thousand times more empowered. As soon as I stopped being involved in projects that forced me to be in transphobic environments and gendered roles that I’m not comfortable with, I again felt a thousand times more empowered. I’ve gotten so many comments from other folks feeling the same thing once they saw those things happening.

 

Q: You mentioned attending a hearing high school. What was that like as a Deaf/ hard of hearing person?

 

Blaine: Pretty horrible. I failed two courses and almost failed pretty much everything else. I couldn’t connect with anyone or grow as an artist at all. The most frustrating thing was not being able to hand in work I was proud of in theatre because I just didn’t understand it. I didn’t really ask for access though. I didn’t know how to advocate for myself at the time and for a while I didn’t even recognize that the reason these things were happening was connected to my hearing level – so I just tried to understand what I could and ignored the rest. People hated that, even though it wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t ready. They just saw slacking, stuck up, other super negative things. It was a pretty horrible time and I wish it wasn’t because my Deafness is such a positive thing in my life now. In my last year of high school, though, I talked through some of what was happening with a couple of friends and was introduced to the basics of ASL and Deaf culture! I started to understand what was going on and a lot of things improved, mostly outside of school. I still tried to hide it from my peers in school because I would still be a non-hearing kid in a hearing school, but was developing my identity on my own.

 

Q: It must have been such a hugely transformative experience to be introduced to ASL and Deaf culture. What were your first experiences of Deaf culture and what did it feel like to finally find an alternative to the audist world you had experienced previously?

 

Blaine: Honestly, at first it was almost just as bad. I started to enter Deaf spaces my first week into learning ASL. I wanted to (and I think I expected to) understand everything right away overnight. At that point I was so fed up with the hearing world I just wanted to be immersed in the Deaf world and have that be my identity. But I still had a lot to work through. I still identified as hearing – I used speech with my hearing friends who signed because I wasn’t comfortable with ASL yet so I still spent a lot of time pretending to understand people, because that was what I knew how to do. It was really frustrating. I found no spaces accessible and really just wanted to connect with someone in at least one language. I felt forced to improve my ASL faster than I physically could so I could match my Deaf friends and their level, so I pushed myself way too much. I guess it paid off though! When I started to understand pretty much everything, I felt really included. I could use interpreters and access Deaf spaces without any insecurity. I wasn’t always working to understand people, and it made a huge difference in everything I did.

 

Q: This brings up a really important concept, the idea of “access”. Frequently when we see the term “access”, we think of the ways that we are not really included, but only acknowledged in a minimal way. Can you tell us a bit about how you feel about the word “access” and what it means for you?

 

Blaine: Beginning to be able to access Deaf spaces was the start of my identity development! It was a huge milestone, but I had to do all the work to make it happen. Having notetakers was pretty much impossible, and, in general, making friends was also impossible until I worked my ass off to learn more. I really just wanted to exist, be okay with where I was at, and access things that I wanted to be a part of.

 

In terms of my theatre work, most people just really don’t like working on access. They think it’s boring. They don’t want to spend the money. I really don’t have much experience with hearing people wanting to make something accessible for me. I’ve learned that in order for me to be able to access things, I kind of have to throw out the word “access”. In theatre, I like to try to get artists/arts educators/etc to think of what they’re doing as not providing access but thinking of it as their art. So I instead centre my goals for access around performance and thinking up new ways of creating perfomance. How can my performance be experienced from different perspectives based on ability? If my show is audio-based, and I want to provide access, how can I keep that art and translate it into something visual-based? It’s a lot more fun for artists to explore how they can tell their stories in different ways rather than “spending money on access”. Because really – access looks like having two boring interpreters on the side of the stage. They’re not performers. Performance looks like integrating Deaf performers and ASL into the already existing work, as well as so many other countless ideas.

 

Being able to access things is important – but from my experience people need a push to be able to provide that. And they don’t want to admit it but it helps when they’re also doing something that’ll benefit themselves.

 

Q: I like the way you linked art to the idea of making sure people are able to get the message! Art is really connected to the audience and it is interesting that so many artists fail to recognize Deaf or disabled audiences. What are some things we can do to help artists to think about ways to involve their WHOLE audience instead of just the able-bodied and hearing audiences? What ways are you working in your roles as playwrite and performer to make sure to include your whole audience?

 

Blaine: That’s the exact kind of thing I’m trying to figure out as I go along! For now, I am trying to get as many people in the conversation around access as possible and listen to them. I want to value Deaf & disabled artists and audiences, not just from my own communities.

 

I’m working on a bunch of projects! My “projects” Workflowy document is a mess with ideas and half-finished theatre things. We’ll seeeeeee.

 

Q: That is fantastic!! Now to conclude our interview, can you tell readers a bit about you and how they can connect with you and find out about your theatre work and other media?

 

Blaine: Of course!  I’m on every social media platform and super reachable on all of them. @blaineinwonderland on Instagram and @blaine_dickens on twitter.

 

Q: Thank you again for taking the time to talk to us about all of your work in performance and giving us some insights on ideas of inclusion.

 

19756239_1900861260194340_314787502_n

 

You can discover more about Drift Seeds at https://reddressproductions.org/current-projects/drift-seeds/

 

You can discover more about Red Dress Productions at reddressproductions.org