Wheeling myself around the town centre in July, I contentedly went about my day, running errands.
I’d been about to enter a supermarket when I suddenly felt a heavy, foreign weight pushing on the back of my wheelchair.
A man, a stranger, had grabbed hold of the handles and wouldn’t let go. Silently, he started pushing me.
Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled, my skin began to crawl, and fear pooled in the pit of my stomach.
Suddenly, I was aware how vulnerable I was. I was completely at the mercy of this man. And all I could think was ‘what could he do to me? I have to get away’.
Taking complete control of someone’s wheelchair in this way is one of the worst things you can do to a disabled person.
It’s a stark reminder of the power imbalance that exists between non-disabled and disabled people and that, whether we like to admit it or not, we are at a physical disadvantage.
Sadly this is not the first time someone’s grabbed my wheelchair without my consent.
The first time it happened I was in my late twenties and going to get a coffee when a man (it’s always been a man in my experience) began pushing me down the street for what felt like a mile.
Though I told him to stop, he never said a word to me. The further along the road we got the clammier my skin became, and the more every muscle in my body tensed with fear.
The notion of fight or flight is all well and good until you remember that neither is wholly possible for me. And I truly thought this man was going to harm me.
Thankfully, another non-disabled man intervened and once he told my – for want of a better word – kidnapper that I looked visibly terrified he stopped pushing my chair and walked off without a word.
I didn’t leave the house alone for weeks after that. When I finally did, I was constantly anxious and fearful that it would happen again. And sadly it did.
This has happened to me in all manner of places…
In nightclubs – where I have been left shaking in terror as a man I had never met laughed at my reaction to being moved away from friends without my consent. In supermarkets, shopping centres, train stations and even museums I have been moved without permission because I ‘looked like I needed help’. And of course, I’ve been grabbed on the streets too.
No one place is safer than the other and it’s become almost familiar and ordinary for this to happen – and that’s what makes it most scary.
That’s why, when I go outside alone now, I try to keep my head down as much as possible and not make eye contact with anyone. I don’t want to attract unwanted attention.
Still, even that’s not always enough. Case in point, the incident in July.
After begging and firmly saying ‘no’ several times got me no closer to getting this stranger away from me, I was forced to place my hands on the wheels – taking the skin off my fingers – to stop him in his tracks.
This prompted the man to walk off in a huff as if I should have accepted his unwanted help gratefully, even though he never asked or knew where I was wanting to go.
But that’s part of the problem, everyone thinks I should be grateful for this kind of help.
Friends and family have often rushed to reassure me that these people who take hold of my chair are likely just trying to help, that it’s harmless and I should be thankful to have strangers looking out for me. But I don’t see it that way.
I see it as an invasion of my space, my freedom, my independence.
Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I do need help – like when I’ve been physically unable to handle the wheelchair because a ramp is too steep, or I am unable to get something from a higher shelf – and in these scenarios I am always grateful when people stop to help.
The fundamental difference though is that, before people interfere on these occasions, they always ask me if they can help. They always give me a choice rather than assume they know what to do for me or to me.
I just wish more strangers understood that my consent to being helped always matters and that, when I say ‘no’, I mean it.
If you see someone in a wheelchair who is struggling, then I would encourage you to offer your help.
But what is not okay, is to suddenly force yourself on someone, or become aggressive if they say ‘no’ because you’ve decided you know what is best for them.
That isn’t kindness or help, it’s ignorance and it’s dehumanising.
As I move through the world, I don’t want to be constantly looking over my shoulder, fearing that heavy weight of a stranger taking control of my chair and therefore my body.
Think of it this way: Would you like a stranger to drag you aggressively by the arm without your consent, without warning, to God knows where? I thought not.
I want to be free to live my life without fear, as do we all.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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