Ableism and challenging notions of true athleticism

Austin Drake, Sports Journalism Reporter

Austin Drake

I have a brother who is 18 years old. Brennan is obsessed with books, works out, enjoys going on walks and loves hot dogs and fries.

Oh, and he has moderate to severe autism.

But Brennan is not defined by his autism. You can tell right off the bat meeting him that he’s autistic. He’s not verbal. He jerks and jumps and flaps his arms around. He avoids eye contact. But autism is not who he is. He’s not an “autistic kid.” He’s a kid with autism.

I don’t post on social media about my brother, but not out of shame. I just want to avoid pity. When I do mention that I have a brother with special needs, I get, “Aww,” or, “That’s so sweet!” 

Yes, Brennan is very sweet, but I don’t think that’s what people are trying to say. 

Pity and sympathy might be natural reactions. I even catch myself doing the same thing, saying similar things whenever I see someone with special needs. But people like Brennan don’t need our pity.

A more subtle reaction is that people with special needs are on a constant quest to be “normal,” like they’re puppies trying to scare off a mailman. It’s hopeless, but we think the effort is cute. So, when the autistic does something “normal,” we react with, “Aww,” or, “That’s so sweet!

No room for pity

Now when my brother does something on a higher level of functioning, I do get excited, because I think back to when he didn’t have the motor skills to hold a fork. Seeing him legibly write letters is exciting. But it’s not a reason for pity.

“A sympathetic sorrow for one suffering, distressed, or unhappy.” This is the dictionary definition of pity. Let’s re-think this in the context of the Special Olympics.

Pity prevents seeing Special Olympics participants as true athletes. It’s cute that they’re trying to be athletes, but we know they will never make it. The striving makes it cute. “Aww.”

Is an athlete restricted to strong, able-bodied people? Is it someone who can lift X pounds and run 40 meters in a Y time? Is it someone who competes at a certain level?

If that’s our definition of “athlete,” then we’re ruling out real, fully human people. Worse, we’re guilty of ableism. 

Similarly, we often disqualify whole races or perhaps gender when determining what we’ll watch, who we will root for, and what we think “true” athleticism or competition can be. We rule out women, who biologically have 50 percent less upper body strength than men. We rule out athletes with physical and mental disabilities.

More than ableism

So looking down on the Special Olympics goes so much deeper than ableism.

If we look on the competitors as people “trying” to fit our own narrow, elitist definitions of “athlete,” then it can lead to doing the same with women and other races, and vice versa.

If we can re-think what we mean by “true athletes,” we can open our eyes to fairness and equality across the entire spectrum of athletic competition, including and maybe especially the Special Olympics. Because the Special Olympics exist to give real, fully human people an opportunity to be true athletes on their level, competing in the truest sense of that term. 

I would love to live in a world where my brother is not looked down upon because of his disability, one where he is treated fairly and with full respect. I think that world is distant, but a first step is to re-define “athlete.”