At the deli, waiting to buy five chicken thighs.

The customer next to me takes a long time, asking for bones for her dog. “The dog will shoot me if I give it chicken thighs that small”, she says, and we both laugh.

By the time the supermarket worker gets to me, this has become more than just a quick trip to get groceries for tonight’s dinner.

The supermarket worker’s first words to me is “why is your face so red?”

This type of curious, well intentioned interaction is always equally an expected and surprising interruption to my day. I was feeling good after Pilates, and looking forward to a disability pride event soon after. And boom! Ableism disrupting.

The supermarket worker didn’t ask about the previous customer’s face.

I answered her.

“Your job is to serve at the deli. You don’t need to know about your customers’ appearances or medical history.”

“Sorry”, she said.

I walked off to get the prepackaged chicken thighs, happy to pay more because it doesn’t come with a side of ignorant curiosity.

See, for the person asking the curious question, that seems polite to them, it’s the first time they’ve seen someone who looks like me. But for, me it’s the not the first time I’ve been asked. Sometimes not even the first time that day.
It’s a cumulative effect.

It’s on top of the influencer who i really respected, using a facial difference filter and then blocking me when i call her in.

It’s on top of the friend who said they have a right to use the R word and won’t stop.

It’s on top of the kid who hid behind their mother‘s legs because they were scared of my face.

It’s on top of the taxi driver who refused to take me because they were worried my face would ruin their car.

It’s on top of the casting agency who called for ugly faces for a horror film.

It’s on top of the physical pain I endure every single day.

It’s on top of helping disabled people unlearn their internalised ableism.

It’s on top of the advocacy and education I do, often for free.

Usually I can handle this, I brush it off. Explain “I was born this way.”

But today at the supermarket, I asked if can speak to the manager?

Image: Carly in front of a painted mural of flowers & pomegranates.

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