I’m a creature of habit when it comes to getting my haircut, which means Avery is a creature of habit also. We have two barbers. If one isn’t available we go to the other. If neither is available, we just have to get “fresh” another day. I’m not a big risk-taker when it comes to getting my haircut, and I’m certainly not one when it comes to Avery getting his haircut either. There was a time years ago when Avery could not go the barbershop because of the sensory challenges he experienced as a toddler. The clippers would be too loud, too sharp, too warm or cold. It was pretty painful for him. Thankfully, these days are much easier for Avery, and by extension, for me, too.
There are definitely group norms when it comes to visiting the barbershop. As a customer, you go in and assess how much time you may have to wait for service based on the number of customers present. Or, you may just approach “your” barber to ask how many customers are ahead of you. I imagine the barbers are simultaneously monitoring the number of customers they have and sometimes have to approach first-time customers to determine if they want service, not knowing if those first-timers will accept or decline. Barbershop talk typically means sports. Barbers and customers argue over whose team is better or worse and why. They debate whose team has the most potential and whose is destined for failure no matter what kinds of players are on the roster. Our last visit to the shop was a little different, though. As Avery and I waited for our barber, a group of about 5 men – all of whom had visible intellectual disabilities – came in to the shop. They came in with a female care professional that helped them get situated. Before the men entered, there was a pretty heated basketball debate going on. While I wasn’t directly engaged in the debate, I was definitely listening and appreciating the intensity of the conversation. But the conversation came to a screeching halt when the 5 entered the shop. Uncomfortable is the only word I can use to describe my feeling; my guess is that many of the other customers and some of the barbers did, too. It was crowded, which meant the men would have to wait for haircuts…which meant we all might be here for a while. Some of the men would make comments about random topics to which no one really could respond. I imagine those behaviors were just symptoms of their disabilities. For some of them, their presentation was a little disheveled. And some of us, like me, had to sit next to them. The tone in the barbershop went immediately from a verbal, heated debate to a silence that was louder than the argument that just abruptly ended. I fell right in line with my own body language. With no words, we all said: “Let’s watch TV or our cell phones instead of talking like we were before the 5 arrived.” As I realized what I was doing, I was disappointed. Thankfully, there were some barbers who were a lot more comfortable than me. Two, in particular, stood out. One of the barbers, while inviting one of the 5 into his chair, asked him about a dish he prepared since the last time he visited. As the customer recalled making the dish and how fun it was, a second barber chimed in, “Man, I didn’t know you could make that! You can cook better than me!” Ice OFFICIALLY broken. Everyone in ear shot of that exchange began to laugh. Some of it was probably nervous laughter, but those comments functioned as a connection point...and a relief. I was frustrated with myself because I thought I was more comfortable around people with severe disabilities. My son has a diagnosed developmental disability. My uncle has an intellectual disability. But on this day my stereotypes took the reins and I allowed them to influence how I responded, even if my response was nonverbal. I was also frustrated because of how easy it was for me envision my son in the same situation, potentially. I’m happy that my son has had success in school and in other spaces. But, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I spend a lot of time thinking about the supports he may need as an adult. My son might have a care professional take him to the barbershop among his own group of 5. And, his presentation may change the tenor of the space simply by arriving. My prayer is that his reception reflects those two barbers' confidence more than it reflects my silent but loud discomfort. Peace, -mike
2 Comments
Al-Lateef
3/3/2013 09:39:53 am
Thank you for your honesty. I often find myself cursing myself for being uncomfortable in situations that I feel I've grown beyond.
Reply
Michael Hannon
3/4/2013 06:53:37 am
The pleasure...well I'm glad it's useful. Lol.
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorI'm Mike. If you have an interest in mental health, family functioning, and disability advocacy, this blog may be of interest to you. Archives
January 2016
Categories |