PSA to all you fantasy writers because I have just had a truly frustrating twenty minutes talking to someone about this: it’s okay to put mobility aids in your novel and have them just be ordinary.
Like. Super okay.
I don’t give a shit if it’s high fantasy, low fantasy or somewhere between the lovechild of Tolkein meets My Immortal. It’s okay to use mobility devices in your narrative. It’s okay to use the word “wheelchair”. You don’t have to remake the fucking wheel. It’s already been done for you.
And no, it doesn’t detract from the “realism” of your fictional universe in which you get to set the standard for realism. Please don’t try to use that as a reason for not using these things.
There is no reason to lock the disabled people in your narrative into towers because “that’s the way it was”, least of all in your novel about dragons and mermaids and other made up creatures. There is no historical realism here. You are in charge. You get to decide what that means.
Also:
“Depiction of Chinese philosopher Confucius in a wheelchair, dating to ca. 1680. The artist may have been thinking of methods of transport common in his own day.”
“The earliest records of wheeled furniture are an inscription found on a stone slate in China and a child’s bed depicted in a frieze on a Greek vase, both dating between the 6th and 5th century BCE.[2][3][4][5]The first records of wheeled seats being used for transporting disabled people date to three centuries later in China; the Chinese used early wheelbarrows to move people as well as heavy objects. A distinction between the two functions was not made for another several hundred years, around 525 CE, when images of wheeled chairs made specifically to carry people begin to occur in Chinese art.[5]”
“In1655,Stephan Farffler, a 22 year old paraplegic watchmaker, built the world’s first self-propelling chair on a three-wheel chassis using a system of cranksandcogwheels.[6][3] However, the device had an appearance of a hand bike more than a wheelchair since the design included hand cranks mounted at the front wheel.[2]
The invalid carriage or Bath chair brought the technology into more common use from around 1760.[7]
In1887, wheelchairs (“rolling chairs”) were introduced to Atlantic City so invalid tourists could rent them to enjoy the Boardwalk. Soon, many healthy tourists also rented the decorated “rolling chairs” and servants to push them as a show of decadence and treatment they could never experience at home.[8]
In1933 Harry C. Jennings, Sr. and his disabled friend Herbert Everest, both mechanical engineers, invented the first lightweight, steel, folding, portable wheelchair.[9] Everest had previously broken his back in a mining accident. Everest and Jennings saw the business potential of the invention and went on to become the first mass-market manufacturers of wheelchairs. Their “X-brace” design is still in common use, albeit with updated materials and other improvements. The X-brace idea came to Harry from the men’s folding “camp chairs / stools”, rotated 90 degrees, that Harry and Herbert used in the outdoors and at the mines.[citation needed]
“But Joy, how do I describe this contraption in a fantasy setting that wont make it seem out of place?”
“It was a chair on wheels, which Prince FancyPants McElferson propelled forwards using his arms to direct the motion of the chair.”
“It was a chair on wheels, which Prince EvenFancierPants McElferson used to get about, pushed along by one of his companions or one of his many attending servants.”
“But it’s a high realm magical fantas—”
“It was a floating chair, the hum of magical energy keeping it off the ground casting a faint glow against the cobblestones as {CHARACTER} guided it round with expert ease, gliding back and forth.”
“But it’s a stempunk nov—”
“Unlike other wheelchairs he’d seen before, this one appeared to be self propelling, powered by the gasket of steam at the back, and directed by the use of a rudder like toggle in the front.”
Give. Disabled. Characters. In. Fantasy. Novels. Mobility. Aids.
If you can spend 60 pages telling me the history of your world in innate detail down to the formation of how magical rocks were formed, you can god damn write three lines in passing about a wheelchair.
Signed, your editor who doesn’t have time for this ableist fantasy realm shit.
Some options for other disabilities and aids:
“Jack had an unusual pair of sticks, unlike anything Jill had seen before; they were much like canes, but rather than ending in a knot or handle they continued up into a pair of bracelets, held together round his wrists by a cunning slide mechanism. They kept him, she noted, quite sure of foot even on the steep ground.” (wrist braces; cerebral palsy)
“Fandir wore a ring around her ear. It looked something like a fancy collar, its edges tipped outward as though forming a funnel, and when she was spoken to she turned it in the direction of the speaker.” (hearing aid, based off antique “hearing trumpets”)
“Victor’s left arm was a marvel of the modern age–held together with a thousand miniscule steel plates and ten thousand tiny gears, wearing a small brazier, much like a jacket cuff, to fire the steam that moved its mechanical fingers.” (prosthetic arm, steampunk)
“Sasha carried one of the most unusual canes Mara had ever seen: it was longer than might be considered useful to someone her size, and hollow, its walls so thin it surely couldn’t hold her weight. Mara watched as Sasha swept the cane ahead of her. At first she thought Sasha was merely clearing a path, but then the cane struck a large rock, and Sasha neatly sidestepped it having never been told it was there. Ah, that solved the mystery, Mara thought: the hollow stick vibrated in Sasha’s hands when it struck, and its sound told her what danger she might face.” (white cane, blindness)
“Sibatyn clapped his hands over his eyes. ‘Here,’ said Yanit, ‘put your scarf over your eyes and take my arm. I can lead you until the lightning is over.’“ (avoiding flashing lights, photosensitive epilepsy)
“‘She grows quite ill on bread, even Rosie’s best,’ Sam lamented. ‘Can’t keep a bit of weight on her. It isn’t proper, for a hobbit.’ Gandalf nodded. ‘Have you considered, perhaps, feeding her on Elf-bread? She may take well to grains not often found in the Shire.’“ (special diet, Celiac disease, food allergies)
I literally had to think harder about what disabilities I wanted to represent here than I did about how to represent them. It isn’t hard. You have no excuse.
OP is spot on. Also, thank you @prismatic-bell for including the food intolerances/allergies one – that’s pretty much exactly how I handled it in my series. As with all of these, and indeed with many other forms of representation that sometimes get pushback in SFF, it’s just a matter of wording it in genre-friendly terms. Sometimes I get the feeling some people forget that’s an option, or it doesn’t occur to them. But obviously there is also often ablism and assumptions at play.
(I heard Gandalf’s lines in Sir Ian’s voice so that was fun :P )
oh oh oh! Witch Hat Atelier is such a good example regarding including disability and accessibility in fantasy.
There are two prominent characters that require mobility aid, specifically a sealchair.(since it’s powered by a magical seal)
There’s one who has an incredibly lavish chair since he is rich and powerful
and a much less complex one for a street performer kid who can’t afford anything fancy. (The main character and her friend spend like, an entire issue trying to figure out how to make a better accessibility device for him since the hooves have a hard time going up and down stairs / steeper slopes). (i wont spoil what they come up with but its pretty dang neat)
Apart from the mobile accessibility, there’s also an instance where one of the mentor characters gives a kid a headband with a sound muting seal to help with his sensitive hearing, one character uses a lens in his glasses to help with light sensitivity, and one of the prominent characters has colourblindness which affects his day to day life visibly, and it’s shown later on how he learns to get around it and its really neat!!!
What do I say to someone if their argument is “Healing magic that regrows limbs/cures diseases.” or whatever, because I have had that argument so many times it’s tiring.
I would start by saying, “So, in this setting, healing magic is available to absolutely everyone? Cool! What’s the system for providing it? How many magic healers are there (by geographic area or by population)? Is there, like, one stationed in every podunk village, or do they travel around on a predetermined route, or is there like a bat-signal, or what?”
“Also, depending on what the answer is, you might need to figure out whether there are any limitations on how long after the injury the healing can take place–if you’ve got healers riding circuit through the hinterlands, suppose someone cuts off a limb a week after the healer leaves: will they still be able to heal it when they come around again the next year?”
“Speaking of, I assume people die in this setting, yeah? So the only possible outcomes of an injury or illness are either ‘you are instantly and completely healed by magic, with no lingering effects whatsoever’ or ‘you are dead,’ right? That’s bound to have some kind of effects on society–damned if I know what they are, but you’d better have some idea; this is your setting after all.”
“And, circling back around to how the system works, if magical healing services are available to everyone, the healers can’t be charging directly for it–so who is paying them, or if they aren’t being paid, what do they live on? I guess it could be sliding-scale, but in that case, how is it decided which healers work in the places where rich people live, and which ones heal the poor? While we’re on the subject of working conditions for magical healers, is it something anyone can learn to do, or is it an inborn ability? If it’s inborn, are individuals with the ability obligated to work for the Magic Healing Service? If they are, explain how that’s not slavery. (Or if we’re acknowledging that it’s slavery, what effect does this have on the plot?) If not, how are people recruited to the magical healing service, and what other career options might they have?”
“For instance, Is there magic cosmeticsurgery? If you can afford it, can you have a magic healer grow you some extra limbs? Can you have them grow your child to the height/weight/appearance you choose? Now that I think about it, does this healing ability work on livestock? If it does, do people in this setting slaughter livestock for meat, or do they just cut off the bits they want to eat and have a magic-user grow them back?”
“Oh, you…didn’t think about any of that? And you have no plans to start? So, your setting has healing magic that can regrow limbs and cure diseases with no after-effects, butthe only difference it makes is that there are no disabled people. Anywhere. It does not affect society in any way, or have any implications for the story you’re telling. Okay. That’s…an approach, I guess.”
That’s what I would say, more or less. Words to that effect.
I’ve researched crutches for several characters in historical settings, and those things are universal! Giving a character crutches or canes, at pretty much ANY period of history, and any place in the world - historically plausible. We have medieval European illustrations, ancient Egyptian carvings, Islamic descriptions, Chinese designs, archeological artifacts from all over the place, etc.
There are also little crutches (hand trestles) that look more like little toy horses. People who had lost both legs could sit on wheeled scooters and use to crutches instead of their hands to push themselves around!
Corsets were often used for back injuries, whether the person was male or female. Boards were used at times, too, strapped to the person to support them. (Like an adult cradleboard!)
Leg/arm braces are ancient. They also look REALLY cool. We’re always adding straps to our designs, anyways. Why not make them useful!
Before fitted peg legs, medieval people would design crutches that could be knelt on. Then you would tie the lower limb and crutch together. Same as modern hands-free crutches.
And litters/palanquins are another alternative to wheelchairs. While they limit the person’s independence, that isn’t actually a negative throughout much of history! Wealth was often shown through how many things you didn’t have to do for yourself. Kings were dressed by high ranking nobles. Servants opened doors and put chairs right under your butt so you didn’t have to adjust them. So having servants to do everything for your disabled character can work if you play it right. (Especially if we see other non-disabled characters in similar situations.)
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Those are some other real pre-modern mobility aids. There are many. But, like Bibliosphere said, you don’t have to have proof something existed to use it!
I really like forearm crutches, so my lady from pre-Crusades Palestine uses them, despite their real-world invention being in 1917. (She also has some challenges with keeping the modest silhouette of the period, since it usually requires an arm to hold her cloak closed, and a lot of fabric tripping up the crutches. That’s been fun to figure out.)
I have a non-verbal character that uses a communication board with picture tiles that she can stim with when not communicating. Its design is based on medicine chests, which I adore, and I’m so glad I could find an excuse to add something like this to the story. Its so pretty and makes me so HAPPY.
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In magical or steampunk settings, of course, modern or future tech can be fit in pretty easily. You have to figure out how to describe it properly.
But more ‘realistic’ settings aren’t much harder. You guys, there is SO MUCH about history we don’t know! So many things that one skilled craftsman figured out, and then were lost because they had bad communication skills. So much assistive tech that loving parents spent all their spare time designing, so that their child could grow up as happily as possible. So many things that frustrated disabled people designed to solve their very specific problem, and then never found someone else who would benefit from it or write it down for future generations.
Modern people with arm differences will stick velcro onto their extremity and use it grab fabric so they can put a shirt on independently. Ancient and medieval people were just as ingenious.
If your fantasy hero can figure out modern warfare tactics, or that cool move from Japanese cinema you REALLY want to use, they can figure out an accessibility option that works for them. (Or, more realistically, 85 accessibility options that work for them, since most disabilities aren’t 100% solved with one aid, just like most battles aren’t won using one move.)
Abled actors, particularly white cis skinny actors, who do this are already in the room. They can stand anywhere they fucking want.
And they’ve chosen to stand in the doorway. And then have the GALL to not understand why that’s an issue.
Disabled actors, (and other minorities of course, but disability is my main lane) especially physically disabled or disfigured actors can’t climb in the window. We’re given such a small door to squeeze through.
Because OF COURSE a white cis Abled actor is ALWAYS going to a better actor than a disabled one. That’s just how it works, sweetheart. It’s about the best actor winning!
Not about how we are not even allowed in the room to be ourselves.
I want to be knights, pickpockets, scientists, boy-next-doors, bikers, murderers. But I will ALWAYS have to justify my presence as a Deaf, disabled trans masc with a growth disorder. Any period piece, any fantasy, any action film will be inherently ‘woke’ or ‘unrealistic’ because of my Deaf presence.
i think more characters should have canes actually. theyre cool. theyre sexy. they can have swords in them. they come in any color u want.
alright I’m rbing to add onto this bc it’s getting way more attention than I ever expected and people seem to be more likely to check the rbs than the replies. plus I want people to be able to rb this version.
the point of this post is not swords. it is not how well someone can fight w a cane. the point is I want to see more disabled representation and I want to see characters who use canes and I want them to use them correctly and I want them to be just as fleshed out and interesting as their abled counterparts.
my cane user friend and I were talking abt sword canes just before I made the post so I tossed it in. I collect blades—knives, daggers, swords—and I’m also a disabled cane user who collects fancy canes. so I think combining the two is cool. I don’t even think they’d be good for self defense, I just think they’re a fun thing to show off to friends!
but this post has always, first and foremost, been abt mobility aids. this is abt being a young cane user who doesn’t see rep. I’d love to see highschool dramas where a character uses a cane but it’s not used to make u pity them, it’s just a regular part of their life. I wanna see fantasy cane users where the animal head handle speaks. I wanna see sci-fi cane users and cane users in romances and cane users in main roles.
I know abt canne de combat and bartitsu and the other fighting styles u can use a cane for. that’s never been what this post is abt. I just want to see myself in media.
everyone who rbs this version gets a kiss on the forehead
I have a mute character in the story I’m writing and one of my beta readers suggested I use italics when they sign so that I don’t have to keep peppering “they signed” or “their hands flashed” throughout the piece.
But like…I always read italics in a different tone like they’re thoughts. It seems quieter than using normal quotations which makes what they say look less significant on the page than other character’s dialogue.
I really don’t think my audience needs me to use completely different punctuation around a mute character. There’s no need to act like they’re speaking a different language since their muteness isn’t a focal point in the story.
So really this reader’s comment has done the complete opposite of what they intended. Now I’m actively taking out as many of my “hands flashed” notations as possible and just writing in normal body language because, clearly, the other characters understand them and my audience doesn’t need to be coddled.
As an HOH reader and writer I can affirm that once the signing has been established it can just be treated like “said”.
You can add little things for emphasis though, like how fast or flippant a sign is given, also a lot of our “punctuation” is in facial expressions, so wild looks is kind of normal. Also messing up signs and just.. pushing them aside. Like, you mess up a fingerspell and just take both hands and shove the air in front of you to your side, people who sign eventually end up doing this for other things, like a “forget it” motion. It’s like a “wave it off” gesture.
Body language for someone who signs is a lot more animated than someone who speaks, as we use our upper body a lot in our conversations, so the act of “signing” is more than just hand signals.
Yes….yes GOOD this is the good stuff right here. I’m going to incorporate some of these ASAP ESPECIALLY the pushing the air but to clear it of your mistakes
When I was younger and more abled, I was so fucking on board with the fantasy genre’s subversion of traditional femininity. We weren’t just fainting maidens locked up in towers; we could do anything men could do, be as strong or as physical or as violent. I got into western martial arts and learned to fight with a rapier, fell in love with the longsword.
But since I’ve gotten too disabled to fight anymore, I… find myself coming back to that maiden in a tower. It’s that funny thing, where subverting femininity is powerful for the people who have always been forced into it… but for the people who have always been excluded, the powerful thing can be embracing it.
As I’m disabled, as I say to groups of friends, “I can’t walk that far,” as I’m in too much pain to keep partying, I find myself worrying: I’m boring, too quiet, too stationary, irrelevant. The message sent to the disabled is: You’re out of the narrative, you’re secondary, you’re a burden.
The remarkable thing about the maiden in her tower is not her immobility; it’s common for disabled people to be abandoned, set adrift, waiting at bus stops or watching out the windows, forgotten in institutions or stranded in our houses. The remarkable thing is that she’s like a beacon, turning her tower into a lighthouse; people want to come to her, she’s important, she inspires through her appearance and words and craftwork. In medieval romances she gives gifts, write letters, sends messengers, and summons lovers; she plays chess, commissions ballads, composes music, commands knights. She is her household’s moral centre in a castle under siege. She is a castle unto herself, and the integrity of her body matters.
That can be so revolutionary to those of us stuck in our towers who fall prey to thinking: Nobody would want to visit; nobody would want to listen; nobody would want to stay.
It’s been half a decade and I still haven’t found an articulation of the complexity of “representation” as concisely and precisely mindblowing as @hungrylikethewolfie’s here.
