(no subject)

I'd like to share with you a story from my religion. It's about the goddess of childbirth, Ninmah, and the cunning god, Enki. They get drunk one night and have a competition: can Ninmah produce a disabled person for whom Enki can't find a place in society? She makes a blind man, and Enki gives him a job as a musician. She makes a lame man, and Enki gives him a job as a silversmith. She makes a woman who can't have children, and Enki gives her a job as a weaver. She makes an intellectually disabled man, and Enki gives him a job as a servant of the king.

I like this story for two reasons. Firstly, because of its light-hearted explanation of disability: it's not a curse or a judgement or a catastrophe, it's just that the gods had a bit too much to drink. And secondly, because of its compassion. No disabled person is worthless; each has a useful role in society. We need weavers and silversmiths and musicians, and where would the king be without his servants?

I thought of this story when reading the terrible news stories about two women with Down syndrome who were apparently used as human bombs in Iraq. Far from treating them as people created by God or the gods, they were treated as worthless and disposable.

And I thought of myself, too, crippled with physical and mental illness, and yet still able to keep a household running and do a little Web work and writing and look after my husband and cats.

Self, age approx. 10