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on being a cripple nancy mairs thesis

Author Mairs, Nancy Genre Article/Essay Overview Nancy Mairs was born in Long Beach, California in 1943 and raised in Massachusetts, near Boston. An acclaimed personal essayist, Mairs writes with candor and humor about her experiences as a woman, a wife and mother, a student and teacher, an unconventional Catholic and a self-described cripple. At age 28, while a Ph.D. student in English literature at the University of Arizona, Mairs began to show symptoms of multiple sclerosis. On Being a Cripple, from her first collection of essays, Plaintext (1986), is her first piece about living with disability, a recurring theme taken up at fullest length in her memoir Waist High in the World (2002). In On Being a Cripple she explains why she prefers the term crippled to disabled, handicapped or (especially) differently abled : These words seem to me to be moving away from my condition, to be widening the gap between word and reality. Mairs’ essay raises questions about how we define ourselves in relation to our bodies, the world and one another, and prompts us to reflect on how we deal with chronic illness, physical imperfections, disability and mortality. It also could frame an exploration of the complexities of service—whether given or received. Full Text* *CCR cannot guarantee the accuracy or continued availability of this online text. Please notify us if you encounter any problems. Source Plaintext by Nancy Mairs. Tucson and London: University of Arizona Press, 1986. Type Reading Themes Ability and DisabilityDiversity and DifferenceHealth and HealingWisdom and Contemplation Big Questions What assumptions do we make about people who are disabled or able-bodied?Why do we label people as disabled ? What impact does it have?How do we connect with those who are different from us?What assumptions do we make about others?How does healing occur? What makes it possible?How do we.
Nancy Mairs, On Being a Cripple Nancy Mairs (1943- ) was born in Long Beach, California and grew up in Boston. She earned an A.B. from Wheaton College in 1964, and both an M.F.A. (1975) and a Ph.D. (1984) from the University of Arizona. She has worked as an editor and has taught at both the high school and college levels in California and Arizona. While being a cripple (her preferred term) is directly linked to her work and her self-identity, Mairs sees herself as much more than that. She's also a mother, a wife, a pacifist, and a radical feminist. Her books include Plaintext: Essays (1986), Carnal Acts: Essays (1990), Waist-High in the World: A Life Among the Nondisabled (1996), and Troubled Guest: Life and Death Stories (2001). She frequently contributes to periodicals such as The Christian Century, The Women's Review of Books, and the New York Times Book Review. On Being a Cripple is an excerpt from.
*Note from the mod* I wanted to share an essay that has always meant a great deal to me, but I see it’s only available in paid academic library systems now; so I bought it, and will be hosting it here. * To escape is nothing. Not to escape is nothing. –Louise Bogan The other day I was thinking of writing an essay on being a cripple. I was thinking hard in one of the stalls of the women’s room in my office building, as I was shoving my shirt into my jeans and tugging up my zipper. Preoccupied, I flushed, picked up my book bag, took my cane down from the hook, and unlatched the door. So many movements unbalanced me, and as I pulled the door open I fell over backward, landing fully clothed on the toilet seat with my legs splayed in front of me: the old beetle-on-its-back routine. Saturday afternoon, the building deserted, I was free to laugh aloud as I wriggled back to my feet, my voice bouncing off the yellowish tiles from all directions. Had anyone been there with me, I’d have been still and faint and hot with chagrin. I decided that it was high time to write the essay. First, the matter of semantics. I am a cripple. I choose this word to name me. I choose from among several possibilities, the most common of which are “handicapped” and “disabled.” I made the choice a number of years ago, without thinking, unaware of my motives for doing so. Even now, I’m not sure what those motives are, but I recognize that they are complex and not entirely flattering. People–crippled or not–wince at the word “cripple,” as they do not at “handicapped” or “disabled.” Perhaps I want them to wince. I want them to see me as a tough customer, one to whom the fates /gods /viruses have not been kind, but who can face the brutal truth of her existence squarely. As a cripple, I swagger. But, to be fair to myself, a certain amount of honesty underlies my choice. “Cripple” seems to me a clean.
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