I've struggled to cut ableist language from my vernacular over the years. It's difficult because of how deeply ingrained it is in our communication, from formal to creative, professional to casual. We frame our thoughts with it to such a degree that we create false, hurtful equivalencies.
I'll give you an example of the one I've been considering today: going in blind. I use this expression a lot to describe how I like to experience things for the first time. It's not just preferring to avoid spoilers; it's a desire to take with me only what I need, to get sensation unfettered by expectation.
Because knowledge truly can be restrictive, in that sense. I find that it can get in the way. Therefore, "going in blind" is a very positive thing to me, something that heightens my enjoyment of the things that I love and drives me to deeper appreciation.
But the more I think about this, the weirder and more disrespectful it seems, regardless of my intent. It doesn't matter that I'm speaking positively about this metaphorical blindness. I mean, it's like when people try to argue that "desirable" stereotypes aren't hurtful, as if they don't reduce an entire person or people to some bullshit. As if it's fine and not at all dehumanizing because hey, who doesn't want a big dick? One little perceived bright spot compensates for the otherwise filthy stains we force upon them, surely.
No, that's not how any of that works.
What I'm doing, I've realized, is equating knowledge with sightedness. Ignorance with blindness. Even if it's a temporary, purposeful ignorance that I greatly value. The difference is obvious to me now: that "unspoiled" state can be disengaged as soon as it's inconvenient for me.
See, it seems fine as a metaphor, in a vacuum. Or at least, it did to me. But if I get stuck in a game and I really want to progress, I will risk spoilers by looking at a walkthrough. If I want to know a little something about a novel or film, I'll browse the Wikipedia article.
Comparing that personal preference of mine, that can be given up at any moment, at my discretion, to a disability feels... well, it feels like I have no concept of the weight of such a thing. And I don't, not truly. But I have my intelligence and empathy, and the capacity for conversation. So I can try, and I can sure as hell demonstrate that I don't take others' trials lightly. I can show a bit of respect at the "expense" of losing some of the poetic language that genuinely fails to express my actual meaning and capture any of its nuance. I don't need it; I'll find better.
I mean, I'm a writer. That's exactly the sort of challenge I live for. Even when it gets tricky, even when it's frustrating. It's a puzzle that improves the solver. A LANGUAGE puzzle... and those are the best kind, in case you haven't heard.
To refuse to try feels like an admission that I'm a worse writer than I ought to be. So I refuse to refuse.
All right, so I've done a lot of thinking about this today. Great, good for me. But what do I actually replace it with? I enjoy the way the phrase feels and sounds, so I'd prefer to retain that if I can. This is only a first draft, but I think I like "going in unaware." For now, haha. When I first thought of it, I found the connotation of being caught off guard or surprised kind of weird, but I mean, that's exactly what I'm wanting, right? That's why I hate spoilers so much. I don't WANT to be on my guard for delightful little surprises in fiction.
So "going in unaware" seems satisfactory for the moment. It doesn't carry the same immediacy or efficiency of communication as "going in blind," which is one of the reasons harmful language is so difficult to scrape off our hulls, but so what? It's what I mean. And I always prefer to say what I mean if I'm able.
Of course, this raises the question, "If we transition away, what do we call 'blind' playthroughs, reactions, readings, viewings, listenings?" I'm not sure. I don't hate "unaware playthrough" but it certainly would take some explaining, haha.
I'm not sure about a lot of the things I need to improve upon in my expression. I am sure, however, that I'll enjoy solving the puzzle.