In the field of linguistics, there has long been an animated debate regarding the potential universality of language. To dissect this, researchers have delved into examining other universal elements, specifically music, which is ubiquitously found across all societies. This juxtaposition underscores the unique attributes inherent in both domains.
At first glance, music and language seem to be inextricably intertwined. Theories have emerged, ranging from the belief that language evolved from song, as proposed by Darwin, to the more contemporary view that music is an “auditory cheesecake” which arose from language, as suggested by the Harvard psychologist, Steven Pinker. Furthering this narrative, the iconic singer Stevie Wonder posed the intriguing question: Is music itself a language? Could they be fundamentally identical?
Several compelling parallels between the two are evident. They both can harness the distinctive capabilities of the human vocal apparatus. Both possess a rhythm, can convey emotions, and can manifest as either premeditated compositions or impromptu creations. Furthermore, both are inherently social in nature. The genesis of music, albeit ambiguous, is believed to have its roots in societal functions such as festivity, religious congregation, or even military synchronisation.
The structural congruencies between music and language are equally noteworthy. With a limited set of notes or words, coupled with a finite framework of rules, an infinite array of unique melodies or sentences can be crafted. This concept of “discrete infinity” is commonly touted as a signature characteristic of human language, distinguishing it from animal communication, which can only relay a restricted array of ideas, like indicating a food source or warning of an impending threat.
Highlighting this nexus further, Aniruddh Patel from Tufts University has postulated that although music and language aren’t identical, they might draw upon the same cerebral regions. In a meticulously designed experiment, subjects were gradually presented with a sentence imbued with a subtle linguistic twist: “The scientist confirmed the hypothesis was being studied in his lab.” They were instructed to acknowledge each word individually at a pace comfortable to them. A significant number hesitated upon encountering the unforeseen “was,” as the prior segment, “The scientist confirmed the hypothesis,” appeared to form a complete thought.
As participants engaged in this task, musical elements were introduced. A subset experienced the unveiling of each word accompanied by harmonious chords, while another group was met with a discordant chord upon reaching the deceptive “was.” An observable delay ensued in both groups’ responses, with the latter, exposed to the incongruent chords, demonstrating a more pronounced pause. Patel posits that this phenomenon may stem from the shared cognitive resources both sentence and harmonic structures demand.
However, despite these similarities, crucial distinctions persist. While both music and language can evoke emotions and stimulate thoughts, only language possesses the capacity for true proposition. This distinction is humourously illustrated by a remark attributed to philosopher Bertrand Russell – “however eloquently [a dog] may bark, he cannot tell you that his parents were honest though poor.” This underscores that, while music might communicate emotion, language has the unparalleled ability to relay specific situations, conjecture about alternate realities, or speak of what’s to come.
The disparity in human proficiency for music and language is another pronounced difference. Most children effortlessly master complex sentence formation by the age of three, and within a few years, they attain fluency. As adults, they conjure novel expressions daily. In stark contrast, only a fraction of the adult population possesses notable musical prowess, and an even smaller percentage excel at innovative musical composition.
Victor Wooten, a renowned bassist and educator, attributes this gap to the differing learning environments. He emphasises that, while children are immersed in a rich linguistic milieu surrounded by adept speakers from birth, budding musicians often find themselves amidst fellow novices, frequently reprimanded for their errors. However, Jay Keyser, an esteemed linguist and musician, believes that the act of creating music isn’t similar to everyday spoken language, but rather to a more specialised rhythmic linguistic form – poetry. He draws attention to the fact that while countless sentences can be grammatically correct, only a select few meet the criteria for poetic expression in both meaning and rhythm, mirroring the challenges of musical composition.
Keyser’s perspective suggests that while everyday language might not evoke the same awe and rapture as music, it remains a marvel in its own right, despite being one often taken for granted. Through this exploration, it becomes evident that while music and language share profound connections and similarities, they each retain their unique characteristics and functions within the human experience.
Disability is an integral part of the human experience, manifesting in myriad forms and affecting countless lives across the globe. A staggering 1 billion individuals worldwide, approximately 15% of the global populace, live with some form of disability. This ratio swells even more in nations such as the US and the UK, where nearly one in four of the population identify as having a disability. Such figures are not merely statistics on paper; they represent people—people with stories, dreams, challenges, and desires much like everyone else. Yet, despite their significant presence, the pervasive spectre of discrimination continues to cast a long shadow over the lives of the disabled, subjecting them to prejudices and biases, both overt and insidious. Among the various manifestations of this discrimination, ‘ableism’ stands out—a term that encapsulates the range of prejudices against those with disabilities. While many understand ableism in its overt forms, such as physical violence or blatant derogatory comments, a subtler, yet equally harmful form of ableism lurks in the language we use daily. Words, often casually employed in conversations, can unwittingly perpetuate negative stereotypes and further entrench divisive beliefs about disabilities in society’s collective psyche. This essay delves into the depths of ableism, especially as manifested in language, and unpacks its ramifications, drawing insights from Jim Ferris’ poignant “Poems with Disabilities” and the voices of advocates and experts from around the world.
Ableism’s insidious nature often lies in subtle linguistic micro-aggressions, deeply entrenched in our culture and passed down through generations. In our everyday conversations, words and phrases that might seem innocuous, perhaps even colloquial or humorous to some, reinforce negative perceptions about disability. These linguistic choices, born from ignorance or carelessness, permeate popular culture, music, films, and even literature, amplifying their reach and influence. Terms such as “dumb” or “lame” or exclamatory remarks like “I’m so OCD!” trivialise and misrepresent the lived experiences of disabled individuals. They not only diminish the complexities and nuances of their challenges but also perpetuate stereotypes that further alienate and marginalise them. Jamie Hale, a disability advocate and leader of a UK charity run for people with neuromuscular conditions, underscores the gravity of this issue. Hale emphasises that such language, even if not directed at someone with a disability, perpetuates the harmful and limiting notion that being disabled equates to being less than or undesirable. This, in turn, serves to bolster broader systemic biases and barriers faced by the disabled community.
Language, as a reflection and influencer of cultural norms and values, plays a pivotal role in shaping societal perspectives. Every word we choose, every phrase we employ, has the power to either challenge or reinforce prevailing biases. When disability is used metaphorically in colloquial speech and writing, it not only perpetuates stereotypes but also distorts meaning, further exacerbating misunderstandings about disabilities. For instance, the idiom “fall on deaf ears” is not just a benign expression but a problematic one. While its intended meaning is to convey an intentional disregard or wilful ignorance, equating such an act with deafness—a non-choice, involuntary condition—is a misrepresentation. Such expressions shift the blame from an individual actively choosing to neglect or disregard information to an involuntary state, creating a dichotomy where the disabled community is unjustly represented. Over time, and through constant repetition, these idioms and metaphors can embed harmful biases in societal consciousness, perpetuating misconceptions and fostering environments where prejudice can thrive.
Hale’s observations shed light on the deeper issues surrounding our choice of words. He underscores that disability metaphors not only spread misconceptions but further bolster negative outlooks and inadvertently sustain systems of oppression. Such metaphorical usage acts as a double-edged sword, simultaneously misrepresenting the disabled community and perpetuating biases against them. So, faced with the question of why ableist language persists, especially when its damaging effects are apparent, one potential explanation could be the mimetic nature of language acquisition. From childhood, individuals learn language patterns based on repetition and mimicry, often adopting phrases and expressions from family, peers, media, and broader societal interactions. People often parrot what they hear without necessarily delving into the deeper meanings or origins of those expressions. However, the widespread adoption of slang and these potentially harmful idioms might also suggest underlying biases embedded within the collective psyche. It’s a telling sign that while many remain blissfully unaware or dismissive of the weight such words carry, the deaf and disabled communities have long been in dialogue about these issues. The pejorative connotations of terms like “dumb”, once referring to those unable to speak and now synonymous with stupidity, have been discussed and debated for ages within these communities. The persistence of these terms in modern lexicon, despite these discussions, highlights the urgent need for broader societal introspection and education.
Rosa Lee Timm, an ardent advocate for the rights of the deaf, underscores a significant hurdle in addressing ableism: the fact that these pivotal conversations about the impact of ableist language often remain marginalised or on the fringes of mainstream discourse. The primary reason, she posits, is that the majority, being comfortably nestled in their privileges, operates under the misguided belief that ableism doesn’t directly impact them, thereby absolving themselves of responsibility or involvement. This bystander attitude, characterised by indifference or neglect, not only perpetuates harmful stereotypes but further widens the chasm between the disabled and non-disabled communities, fostering an environment of exclusion and misunderstanding.
Yet, an overlooked consequence of such pervasive ableist language is its potential to boomerang back on those who may have once considered themselves immune to its effects. As life is unpredictable, non-disabled individuals might later find themselves grappling with disabilities due to accidents, illnesses, or the natural aging process. When they confront this new reality, the same ableist language they once casually used or ignored becomes a mirror reflecting the restrictive and unrealistic standards they have internalised over time. These internalised beliefs can exacerbate feelings of inadequacy, alienation, or depression. In this sense, ableist language doesn’t just harm its immediate targets; it has a more insidious, broader impact, shaping societal attitudes and norms in ways that can be psychologically damaging to everyone within that society.
Countering ableism is a call to action that transcends mere advocacy for the disabled community; it’s a transformative pursuit towards creating a society that values, respects, and includes all its members irrespective of their physical or cognitive abilities. Jamie Hale, with deep insight into the matter, aptly emphasises that the overarching mission to dismantle entrenched ableist structures might not exclusively start with the reformation of language, but language remains a powerful and indispensable tool in this crusade. Words, after all, are not just mere utterances; they are carriers of culture, history, values, and beliefs. By being more mindful of our lexicon, consciously opting for straightforward and respectful expressions, and actively eschewing ableist euphemisms and colloquialisms, we’re not just altering sentences but reshaping societal mindsets. This isn’t merely a gesture of solidarity; it’s a foundational step towards creating a society where everyone feels seen, valued, and heard, thereby fostering a truly inclusive and empathetic environment.
The early 21st century marked a turning point in the discourse surrounding disability poetry. As with all forms of art and expression, disability poetry sought to capture the vast spectrum of human experience, and in 2004, Jim Ferris pioneered the theoretical framing of what could be labelled as ‘disability poetry.’ His essay “The Enjambed Body: A Step Toward a Cripple Poetics” was groundbreaking, not only for its recognition of an emerging genre but for its bold stance on redefining societal norms. His subsequent publication, “The Hospital Poems,” provided tangible evidence of these concepts, seamlessly merging the abstract with the palpable. It was a profound call to poets to reimagine, restructure, and reclaim narratives around disability.
But while the inception of “Crip Poetry” in 2006 offered an initial blueprint for disability poetry, it was only the beginning of a broader conversation. The essence of poetry is evolution, and as with all art forms, disability poetry has witnessed a continuous transformation. At the Disability Poetics Symposium at the University of Pennsylvania, this evolution was evident. The ideas and characteristics Ferris had set down years before were still revered, but they had also expanded, fragmented, and reformed, allowing a multitude of interpretations and styles to emerge.
For poets in the world of disability, “Crip Poetry” was not just a reference point, but a challenge—a beacon that prompted them to revisit, redefine, and reshape their understanding of disability. Contemporary poets’ reflections on Ferris’s essay are a testament to its ripple effect across the literary world. Avra Wing’s response epitomises the essence of this evolution. As a facilitator at the NYWC Workshop at the CIDNY, Wing’s insights reflect the diverse experiences that comprise the disability narrative.
Wing’s perspective, especially as someone who encountered disability later in life, adds a poignant dimension to the discourse. While Ferris champions the value found within the disability experience, Wing highlights the journey of reconciliation and acceptance that many face. The juxtaposition of loss against empowerment, of grief against growth, brings forth the complex tapestry of emotions that disability can entail. For poets like Wing, their craft becomes a medium to navigate, understand, and ultimately, redefine their identity in the face of disability. As she rightly points out, there isn’t a single narrative of disability; instead, there’s a vast, intricate mosaic of stories, each distinct, each valuable.
In this evolving landscape of disability poetics, poets are continually pushing boundaries, challenging conventions, and adding layers of depth to the genre. From Ferris’s pioneering framework to Wing’s introspective reflections, the world of disability poetry showcases the resilience, diversity, and depth of the human spirit. Through their words, these poets remind us that while physical or cognitive abilities might differ, the quest for understanding, expression, and identity remains a universal journey.
In his evocative collection of 2011, “Slouching Toward Guantanamo,” Jim Ferris crafts a symphony of voices that resonates with authenticity and challenges the status quo. Drawing inspiration from the rich, expansive verse of Whitman, Ferris combines elements of charm, irony, and poignant reflection to present a fresh perspective on the lived experience of disability. With lines such as, “This is my body/Look if you like,” Ferris audaciously confronts the reader, pushing them to reconsider their preconceived notions. His fusion of satire and genuine insight is evident in the lines, “I’m sorry–this space is reserved/for poems with disabilities,” a clever nod to the socio-political aspects of disability rights. His works, reminiscent of Roberts’ poetry, are deeply rooted in the physicality of existence, emphasizing the beauty and complexity of varied bodily experiences. “Glory be to God for crippled things–/…Growths that thrive and work left incomplete;/All legs get tired, all clocks get their hands stuck,” writes Ferris, showcasing his adeptness in melding lyrical elegance with profound themes of acceptance and celebration. Through this collection, Ferris not only confronts societal discomfort around disability but also revels in the uniqueness of every body, heralding its differences with grace and verve.
In conclusion, the intricate interplay between disability, language, and poetry offers a profound lens into the human condition. The omnipresence of disability, as demonstrated by staggering global statistics, emphasises its universality, yet its experience remains diverse and multifaceted. As this essay has highlighted, our everyday language, rife with subtle ableisms, can unintentionally perpetuate negative stereotypes about disabilities. It’s a poignant reminder of the weight our words carry and the profound impact they can have on shaping societal attitudes and values. Poetry, especially disability poetry, emerges as a potent medium to challenge these ingrained beliefs, offering both a reflection on and a reimagining of the disability experience. The works of pioneers like Jim Ferris and contemporary voices like Avra Wing emphasise the dynamic nature of this literary genre, one that remains ever-evolving, much like society’s perceptions of disability itself. By confronting our inherent biases and embracing the richness of diverse narratives, we move closer to a more inclusive, empathetic, and understanding society—one where every individual’s story holds value and where differences are celebrated as part of our collective human tapestry.
In the world of poetry, the exploration of cultures, identities, and the complex intersectionality that arises from them is a theme that has often been tackled with depth and nuance. Through their unique poetic lenses, poets frequently uncover the multiple ways individuals respond to cultures unfamiliar to them, examining the sentiments of wonder, alienation, understanding, and sometimes, resistance. In Look We Are Coming to Dover! by Daljit Nagra, and The Deliverer by Tishani Doshi, two poignant pieces that intersect at this thematic crossroad, we witness distinct yet interconnected portrayals of reactions to new and different cultural landscapes. This essay will aim to compare and contrast the manner in which these two works navigate the varied emotional and intellectual responses to other cultures, shedding light on the universal human experience of confronting and interacting with the unfamiliar.
Both Look We Have Coming to Dover! and The Deliverer explore responses to other cultures but from two different perspectives. In Look We Have Coming to Dover!, Nagra tells of the arrival of immigrants to England and of their lives filled with hard work, fears and dreams. Here, Nagra explores responses to other cultures through the voice of an immigrant whose experience in spite of the initial difficulties which indubitably coincide with migration, can still imagine a future where they can settle legally and in prosperity, evoking the notion of hope from the reader. Contrastingly, in the Deliverer, Doshi speaks on the prevalence of female infanticide in rural India and the lives of the women who help commit it. Doshi explores responses to other cultures through bringing into light the juxtaposing cultures of the world; shocking practices that are done in India contrasting with the more modernised and civilised America. The tone in both poems differs massively. In Look We Have Coming to Dover!, the poem starts with a tone of disappointment as the narrator discloses hardship and poverty. In comparison to the ‘cushy’ tourists, the narrator and his kind have very little power – economic or otherwise in a new culture. But despite this, the narrator can imagine a future where they have won their way to prosperity. However, in the Deliverer, the tone lacks emotion and could be arguably interpreted as uncaring. Or perhaps some may suggest the poet did not want to integrate their own emotions and judgements into the poem allowing the reader to form their own opinion of the culture in rural India, making it extremely effective at making the poem even more memorable for the reader.
Keeping this in mind, the reader may pause and reflect how Doshi’s exploration of cultures are indeed very stereotypical. In essence, the speaker explains how her mother visited a convent in South India where she learns how the nun would collect children who are discarded because they were ‘crippled or dark or girls’. The asyndetic list of inadequacies increased in a manner that would shock an ordinary reader but for some, it may raise the question as to why Doshi focuses on one particular country in South Asia rather than addressing crimes as such which occur around the world. This reinforces the stereotype that countries in South Asia such as India are patriarchal countries with limited feminism where women are treated poorly. This interpretation is backed by the two locations in the poem which are identified by the subheadings; first, a convent in Kerala and later the poem moves to an airport in the USA. The use of these locations is important, particularly due to the fact that they are each other’s antithesis. While airports represent global connections, technology and a mix of cultures, a ‘convent’ would in many cases be seen as the opposite of this, as a traditional location focused on individual religion, further magnifying stereotypes.
In a similar vein, though an immigrant himself, in the very first line Nagra depiction of the immigrants can be seen as stereotypical. They were ‘stowed in the sea to invade’. The inclusion of “invade” introduces the ongoing theme of words with negative connotations, but this one is particularly notable not only because it is mentioned in the very first line but also because of the direct link to hostile people entering another country. However, this is juxtaposed with the idea of being “stowed” and hidden away unnoticed, with it unlikely for people to be able to invade a country with no supplies. This could therefore be interpreted as Nagra’s criticism of immigration being detrimental or even dangerous which is hugely stereotypical and misleading. Some readers may infer that this criticism is due to the narrator becoming more whitewashed i.e. now that the narrator lives in Britain, he has grown superior frowns upon immigrants, irrespective of his own roots. This inference is substantiated with the collective noun ‘swarms’ insinuating insects which Nagra employs later in the poem to dehumanise immigrants. Alternatively, some readers may as well infer that Nagra is not criticising but instead mocking how the indigenous population regards newcomers as a threat In this respect, both poems demonstrate similar stereotypical ideas that surround cultures.
In the Deliverer, Doshi explores how women in less developed areas don’t respond to culture and its patriarchal norms. They simply follow the same pattern with no real change. – The tercets in the poem could strengthen the interpretation which mimics a pattern, evoking the notion of continuity. – For instance, at the end of the poem, it’s said that mothers ‘squeeze out life’ and then ‘trudge home to lie down for their men again’. Both quotes have monosyllabic words which make the poem feel more personal and less planned – the narrator is telling things ‘how they are’. The fact that the verb ‘squeeze’ suggests the mothers push and get rid of the baby as quickly as possible as if it were a chore and then ‘trudge’ home to go ‘lie down for their men again’ magnifies the women’s hardships and makes the reader ponder if women are baby-making machines, trapped in a continuous life of sexual reproduction. This interpretation is backed by the lack of figurative or descriptive language in the poem which contributes to a flatness of tone, expressing the bleakness of the situation. Again there is no moral judgement, as the reader is left to contemplate the inequalities of women as well as their brutal realities too. Though some could challenge that women don’t respond to sexist cultural norms with the verb ‘trudge’ which suggests unwillingness. Perhaps affected women do want to alter their lives but don’t have the means to or are discouraged to do so thereby they return to their ordinary lives. Not only is rural India portrayed in a stereotypical manner but also America. In the second part of the poem, the child is delivered to the family in America. Here it is mentioned that they are ‘American so they know about ceremony’ implying that in the western culture all birth and adoption are a serious matter. Furthermore, it is written in italics that the child’s parents ‘couldn’t stop crying’. This outburst of emotion could be seen as reasonable by some readers however others may believe that it reinforces the stereotype of Americans being overly emotional. Hence, this is how the response to culture is explored by Doshi.
Contrastingly, the narrator in Look We Have Coming to Dover! responds to the newfound culture very differently. For example, the imagery in the quote: ‘moon’s spotlight… miracle of the sun’ as well as the contrast between ‘moon’ and ‘sun’ hints that the narrator acknowledges that for immigrants at the beginning entering a new culture with dissimilar ideologies could be hard and apprehensive but slowly life becomes a bit easier due to hope; hope for citizenship, hope for an improved quality of life etc. Though some readers may perceive the ‘sun’ as alluding to the idea that those coming to the UK may need to hope for a ‘miracle’ in order to be fully accepted as part of society. Nonetheless, the narrator is not discouraged. Indeed, the wordplays such as ‘phlegmed’, the varied rhyme schemes, as well as the variation of line length, could be inferred as to how the narrator is trying to adapt to this newfound culture by striving to speak the language however it is very hard. A reader could be reminded of their own experiences with learning foreign languages, generating sympathy for the speaker. Moreover, the lines are shorter in the beginning but progress into longer lines could convey the narrator’s belief that an immigrant has to work their way up. Thus, the narrator responds to culture with his endeavour to adapt to it.
To summarise, both poets explore the responses to other cultures through a variety of methods and techniques. Despite a few minor exceptions, the two poems do differ massively when it comes to exploring responses to other cultures as one response to it positively and the other negatively.
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