Article Highlight: Vol. 41, Issue 1, “‘I Don’t Have Time for an Emotional Life’: Marginalization, Dependency and Melancholic Suspension in Disability”

This week on the blog we are highlighting Brian Watermeyer’s article “I Don’t Have Time for an Emotional Life”: Marginalization, Dependency and Melancholic Suspension in Disability. Watermeyer provides an introduction to key aspects of the social and economic marginalization of the disability minority experienced globally. He then explores and compares the complex debates surrounding materialist and psychological approaches and accounts of racism and disablism, particularly with reference to the place of grief and loss in disability discourse. Finally, Watermeyer considers how Cheng’s engagement with racial melancholia may help illuminate how disability inequality, like that of race, may remain a stubborn reality.

Watermeyer begins by discussing some theoretical orientations of social inequality. In the discipline of disability studies, it is a historical materialist (Marxian) approach which has dominated, with particular attention to psychological aspects of disability oppression. Disablism can be defined as discrimination based on physical, sensory, cognitive, or psychiatric impairment. Combined with critical and liberatory theory of racial inequalities, Watermeyer states it is reasonable to assume that living in the face of discrimination and marginalization will create feelings of grief, withdrawal, and suffering, as harms are sustained at both the physical and psychological levels.

In her book, The Melancholy of Race: Psychoanalysis, Assimilation and Hidden Grief, Ann Cheng (2000) presents a psychological model of racial inequality with loss at its center. For Cheng, racial inequality persists within the United States because it forbids grief. The larger, societal demand for every individual to strive for an ideal cultural whiteness continually pulls individuals away from an emotional center, creating ambivalence, a lack of self-empathy, and distortions of ideology.

Building off of Cheng’s argument, Watermeyer discusses the shared characteristics of racism and disablism. Prejudice and stigma are the ever-present companions of structural inequalities for both forms of disparity. Disabled people, especially those in low income countries, are the most vulnerable of the vulnerable, as most societies are designed with only the needs of the non-disabled majority in mind. There are formidable barriers to housing, transportation, and freedom of movement, as well as exclusion or segregation in education and other public accommodations.

Additionally, Watermeyer states the cultural embeddedness of making sense of disability via a “medical model” has reinforced the marginal position of disabled people. In this institutional view, social disadvantage is understood as a simple consequence of bodily difference or dysfunction, portraying disabled people as “damaged invalids” who are unable to contribute in community life. This view negates any consideration of discrimination’s role in inequality.

While the historical materialist view recognizes the role of biomedicine in justifying the marginalization of disabled people, it is the quantifiable, visible reality of exclusion from the workplace, and other “barriers to participation,” as its primary focus. Yet Watermeyer recognizes the analysis of oppression should not just be in the public, institutional spheres, but should also include private domains. Social exhaustion and scarcity have a psychological component, and it is important to understand the ways in which ongoing assaults on identity limit the imaging of different social organization.

For Watermeyer, there are several problems with describing feelings of damage and tragedy as arising from both congenital and adventitious impairment, with little or no attention to structural or contextual factors. This viewpoint positions impairment of the body as the central disadvantage faced by disabled people, ignoring injustices such as discrimination and rejection. Further, attaching narratives of tragedy to disabled people has been loudly rejected by the international disability movement. According to Kleinman, Das, and Lock (1997), if there is loss or grief in the lives of disabled people, it has to do with social suffering, not bodily “flaws.”

While discussing oppression and melancholia, Watermeyer describes an encounter with “J,” a male psychotherapy client living with tetraplegia (paralysis of the lower limbs and partial paralysis of the upper). A South African man in his mid-twenties, J lived a life of profound structural exclusion, unemployment, physical dependency, a poor social network, and imprisonment in his mother’s residence by poverty and poor public transportation. In his limited engagements with the world, indications that he was “broken” were commonplace.

When questioned about his emotional experience of these circumstances, J’s reply was, “I don’t have time for an emotional life.” At the subjective level, being trapped in an immovable system of structural exclusion meant being equally controlled by an “emotional economy,” with its own rules on what could be felt, loved, hated, or hoped for. In J’s life, these constraints appeared to limit emotional freedom as definitively as unreachable buses limited his movement. Emotional care, guilt, and limited space were the constant followers of his physical dependency, transferring feelings of sadness, frustration, or rage to unconsciousness. Simply, “not having time for an emotional life” meant not having the resources to overcome prohibitions on feelings and expressions of grief.

Melancholic systems deal with difference by maintaining existing racialized and discriminatory structures. This disjuncture produces a detrimental position involving both alienation from one’s emotional self, and experiences in the social world which repeatedly point to one’s failure to assume the ideals which secure real belonging. Watermeyer states that dominant culture presents disabled people with a paradox: while reaffirming the message that the disabled figure is dismal and broken, the world demands that he or she not grieve, as this would be a submission to the passivity, pessimism, and invalid status that pervade the disabled stereotype. As in the case of race, the ruling is “prove to me that you are not what I know you to be.”

Watermeyer’s perspective reframes lives of disabled people as basic to the universal human condition. The stereotype which attaches loss simplistically to impairment is rejected, and replaced by a more nuanced picture of struggle relating to discrimination, structural exclusion, pain, fatigue, and the host of everyday miseries that punctuate any human life.

References Cited:

Cheng, Ann A. (2000) The Melancholy of Race: Psychoanalysis, Assimilation, and Hidden Grief. Berkley: Oxford University Press.

Kleinman, A., V. Das, and M. Lock. (1997) Social Suffering. Berkeley: University of California Press.

News: WHO Release on Worldwide Hearing Loss

When medical anthropologists consider the impacts of technology on human health, we envision life-saving drugs, surgeries, or diagnostic tools to detect disease. Technology in these ways can prove instrumental– quite literally — in improving patients’ health outcomes. However, it is equally important to think about the ways in which technology can diminish health, particularly in an age where the global spread of technology deserves the attention of clinicians and anthropologists alike.

This is the nature of the concern posed by the latest World Health Organization (WHO) report, released on February 27th 2015. After studying noise exposure in middle and high income countries and among participants ages 14-35, WHO officials stated that an estimated 1.1 billion people are at risk for hearing loss due to “recreational noise.” This includes music piped through headphones and noise experienced at entertainment venues. Exposure to high decibels of sound is not itself harmful: for instance, hearing a heavy pot fall from the counter and crash onto the floor would not cause hearing damager. Rather, the extended length of exposure to such loud noises is what proves detrimental. The WHO defines dangerous levels of noise exposure as 85 decibels for eight hours or 100 decibels for 15 minutes. The report notes that a rock concert that lasts for two hours may cause temporary hearing loss or lead to other symptoms such as a ringing sensation in the ears, and regular extended exposure may lead to more permanent damage.

The WHO flag, via Wikimedia Commons

The WHO flag, via Wikimedia Commons

What does the WHO recommend to address this global health concern? The report singles out teenagers and implores them to take noise management into their own hands: purchasing noise-canceling headphones, taking “sound breaks” if extended exposure to loud sounds is unavoidable, or wearing ear plugs to loud music venues. This places the responsibility to manage noise exposure on young people rather than on their families and caregivers. Likewise, the report suggests that patrons of entertainment venues like clubs and bars that feature loud music and sounds should limit their time spent in such environments. There are no extensive recommendations listed in the report for those who work in loud venues, other than limiting shifts to eight hours to shorten exposure.

From a medical anthropological standpoint, many of the factors in sound environments are tangled with social life. For instance, in many developed countries, concerts are an important social gathering place for young people. Teens may not avoid these events, but if they follow the WHO recommendations and wear earplugs to the venue, they may be ostracized by their peers for looking out of place. Likewise, neighborhood bars and clubs are important hubs of activity for locals, and avoiding them may come at the cost of social isolation. As technologies spread both to developing and developed countries, the ways that people integrate audio technologies, new entertainment venues, and popular music into their lives is worth considering given the impacts of these tools, sounds, and social spaces on hearing health.

To read the WHO’s news release, click here: