Seen But Not Known: Quinn’s Experience of ‘Otherness’

Quinn entered the restaurant, her crutches clicking in a rhythm she had long since become accustomed to. This cozy place had become her Saturday ritual, a comforting escape from the chaos of the world. As she neared her usual table, she noticed a couple glance in her direction before quickly looking away, as though they hadn’t been caught observing her. Quinn offered a polite smile and settled into her seat, but the familiar weight of being noticed settled over her, an unspoken presence she had grown to tolerate but never quite accept.

These moments are a regular part of Quinn’s life. Each outing in public carries the expectation that she will be seen not as Quinn, but as “the woman with crutches.” Her crutches often draw attention before her smile, kindness, or passion for books. After so many years of managing these interactions, her response—quiet, polite, deflective—has become almost automatic. Yet, despite the familiarity of this sense of otherness, it remains exhausting, a reminder that the world perceives her as different first and as an individual second.

What Is “Otherness”?

Quinn’s experience reflects a common theme for many people with disabilities, known as “otherness” by disability scholars. It is the feeling of being set apart, not because of who you are, but because your body doesn’t fit society’s unspoken standards of “normal.” Imagine walking into a room where everyone moves and interacts with ease, and you stand out—not for your personality or abilities, but simply because your body moves differently. That is the essence of otherness: being defined by your differences rather than being seen as a whole person.

For Quinn, otherness isn’t just about using crutches. It is reflected in how people subtly alter their behavior around her, often without realizing it. The waiter, for instance, speaks more slowly, assuming she needs extra time to understand. A stranger hurries to open the door, assuming she can’t manage it herself. While these small acts are usually intended as kindness, they serve as a reminder of the gap between Quinn’s experience and that of others. It’s not the help itself that stings, but the assumptions behind it—assumptions about what Quinn can or cannot do.

The Impact of Social Norms on “Otherness”

A key aspect of Quinn’s experience is how society shapes the idea of “normal.” Public spaces, workplaces, and social settings are typically designed for people without disabilities. Accessibility features like ramps and automatic doors can often feel like add-ons rather than essential parts of the design. When accessibility isn’t seamlessly included, it sends a clear, though unspoken, message to people with disabilities like Quinn: “This space wasn’t designed with you in mind.”

Quinn’s trips to the grocery store often bring these challenges into focus. She navigates the aisles with ease, but when she reaches the checkout, the counters are too high. The card reader, just out of reach, forces her into an awkward stretch. While these tasks are not impossible, they serve as regular reminders that the space wasn’t designed to accommodate a wide range of physical needs. Over time, these seemingly minor inconveniences accumulate, reinforcing the reality that the world isn’t built with people with disabilities in mind as it is for others (Shakespeare, 2006).

This disconnect is further compounded by social interactions that are influenced by non-verbal cues, such as body language and facial expressions. In the context of disability, these cues can create implicit expectations about how people with disabilities should be treated, often accentuating their differences. For example, Quinn frequently encounters well-meaning strangers who offer help without first asking if she needs it.

While these gestures are intended to be supportive, they can unintentionally emphasize the separation between her and those offering assistance. Research indicates that actions like speaking slowly, or praising someone for everyday tasks can inadvertently reinforce the perception that people with disabilities are fragile or incapable (Campbell, 2009).

Design and the Role of Accessibility

This sense of otherness is not limited to personal interactions; it extends into the very design of public spaces. Despite progress toward greater accessibility, accommodations can often feel like an afterthought. Spaces that are not designed with different needs and abilities in mind send an implicit message that certain people don’t fully belong.

For instance, Quinn loves visiting her favorite restaurant, but each time, she faces the same challenges. The tables are placed too close together, making it difficult to navigate, and the bathroom, while technically accessible, has a door so heavy that opening it is a struggle. These design choices—though not intentionally exclusionary—speak volumes. When spaces fail to accommodate diverse needs, individuals with disabilities may feel as though the environment is not intended for their participation (Shakespeare, 2006).

Breaking Down the Barriers of Otherness

When environments fail to meet the needs of all individuals, people with disabilities can feel excluded or unwelcome (Shakespeare, 2006). To address this, it is important to shift how disability is perceived. Rather than viewing it as a deviation from the norm, disability should be recognized as a natural variation in human ability.

Language and behavior play a crucial role in dismantling the notion of “otherness.” Instead of making assumptions about Quinn’s abilities or needs, the better approach is to ask her directly. Her crutches should not define her; they are simply a tool. What matters is her individuality, shaped by her unique qualities, experiences, and insights.

Breaking down the barriers of otherness requires more than physical accommodations; it begins with changing how disability is understood. Quinn’s story shows how small behaviors and design choices can unintentionally make people feel excluded. True inclusion goes beyond ramps and accessible bathrooms.

Small, meaningful changes in language and behavior can challenge the assumptions that create a sense of otherness. Instead of defining Quinn by her crutches, simply asking her about her needs, rather than making silent assumptions, makes a big difference. It acknowledges her as a person first, not just as someone with a disability.

These small changes don’t require big gestures, but they deeply affect how welcoming and inclusive a space feels. When people are truly seen, without limiting assumptions, the weight of being different fades. Spaces open up—not just physically, but emotionally and socially. This way, everyone can feel valued, accepted, and like they genuinely belong.

References

• Campbell, F. K. (2009). Contours of ableism: The production of disability and abledness. Palgrave Macmillan.
• Garland-Thomson, R. (2005). Disability and representation. PMLA, 120(2), 578-580.
• Shakespeare, T. (2006). Disability rights and wrongs. Routledge.