We are cradled by History. You? No. Not you. You are shrewed. You are exceptionally literate and therefore you’re in charge of History—why heck, you probably conductHistory the way Toscanini conducted the Metropolitan Opera. By God! You’re an autocrat of both facts and influence.
But if you have a disability chances are good that History has its hooks in you. It builds its little walls around you. Frankly, for people with disabilities History functions like a portable play pen; it accompanies us from room to room—encloses, keeps us contained; holds us on display; and we sit inside our baby cages with our appearances by turns sentimental and cute or red faced, temperamental, shaking our rattles.
Every day I step from my house with the goal of finally rejecting this image of History. Yet I am followed down the street by memories and ghosts and the constraining or imprisoning realities of architectures and social systems that won’t let go.
I get on the bus in Iowa City and the driver tells me that they don’t accept dogs. I go through the dumbed down rigamarole explaining the so-called "White Cane Laws" and the ADA. The bus stands still while I try, dispassionately to explain. The driver finally says, "Well I thought those dogs wore blue blankets." "No," I say, as warmly as I can, "They wear a harness."
It’s only 9 in the morning and I’ve already had to shake my rattle while trying, ever so desperately to appear cute.
"Look, Driver! I’m wearing my pajamas with the little feet!"
No wonder those who temporarily seem to have no disabilities are terrified by those who do: they see us in every public setting, still wrapped up and sequestered by our traveling cages.
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 
We internalize those historical dramas and rehearse our scripts long after the other players have forgotten their lines.
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I’ve had that feeling of walls around me and my power chair when out in public (which you describe in various ways here). It does feel like it’s seen by others as a ‘traveling cage’. I’m so glad you wrote about this because it explains some things to me that I’m struggling with in terms of reactions I get that, sadly, are unnecessarily constricting and limiting for all of us.
The image of the baby cage reminds me of the last time I had my power chair adjusted. The vendor (not the dealer who is cool) kept referring to me as “she” and asking other people what speed to set it on , as if I wasn’t capable or competent enough to answer and when I did, tried to ignore what I said and chose a setting himself. That did not go well for any of us and I wish oh how I wish I had said “Perhaps I should have worn my pj’s with the little feet for this.”
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