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Falling for Myself: A Memoir
In this searing and seriously funny memoir, Dorothy Ellen Palmer falls down. A Lot. Born with congenital anomalies, then called birth defects, in both feet, she was adopted as a toddler by a traditional 1950s family that had no idea how to handle the interwoven complexities of adoption and disability. From repeated childhood surgeries to an activist awakening at university to decades as a feminist teacher, improv coach and unionist, she spent much of her life denying her disability. But now, in this book written with the timing of a comedian, she’s sharing her journey. Palmer takes on adoption, ableism, ageism and childhood sexual abuse as she reckons with her past and with everyone’s future. In Falling for Myself, she allows herself to fall and get up and fall again, knees and hands bloody, but determined to seek disability justice, to insist we all be heard, seen, included and valued for who we are.
320 pages, Paperback
Published October 22, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 33 reviews
February 18, 2020
I was interested in the author’s life experiences—she has a serious congenital birth defect affecting her feet and was born (and adopted) in the conformist 1950s. However, the too-snappy, glib writing style that (in my opinion) tried too hard to be funny just grated on me. I could not finish, though I feel certain Palmer’s story itself is a worthy and instructive one.
November 22, 2019
Review included in the Hamilton Review of Books:
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March 5, 2020
I tried. I really tried...but the writing style and the angry tone towards literally everyone from fictional characters to friends to strangers is just too much.
The thing about a book like this is that people who already see the world in Palmer’s way will think it’s amazing and people who don’t see the world in that way will have their hackles up. Shaming people into believing your world view only works to a point. Very very few people have ever had their opinions changed by being screamed at, which is the way this book reads. There is nothing I would love more than to see ableism changed and I will grant you that this book will make me think twice about a lot of the physical barriers in everyday life that my abled body takes for granted....but the tone of this book will keep me from ever being able to fully appreciate Palmer’s story. I spent the whole time I was reading trying to tell myself to stop mentally arguing with her and just let her teach me because she obviously has a lesson to teach...but I couldn’t because she just kept yelling.
I get why she’s yelling. She’s angry and she has a right to be, but there are so many better ways that anger could be channeled.
The thing about a book like this is that people who already see the world in Palmer’s way will think it’s amazing and people who don’t see the world in that way will have their hackles up. Shaming people into believing your world view only works to a point. Very very few people have ever had their opinions changed by being screamed at, which is the way this book reads. There is nothing I would love more than to see ableism changed and I will grant you that this book will make me think twice about a lot of the physical barriers in everyday life that my abled body takes for granted....but the tone of this book will keep me from ever being able to fully appreciate Palmer’s story. I spent the whole time I was reading trying to tell myself to stop mentally arguing with her and just let her teach me because she obviously has a lesson to teach...but I couldn’t because she just kept yelling.
I get why she’s yelling. She’s angry and she has a right to be, but there are so many better ways that anger could be channeled.
December 5, 2019
I saw this author on a panel on Dec 3, reading from this book as part of an event to celebrate International Day for Persons with Disabilities (IDPWD). It was a fantastic event; all the writers were so intelligent and well-informed, and I was saddened by the low turnout, particularly in the abled community. Believe me, fellow able-bodied folks: it might not be about you, but it is definitely *for* you, because you/we have a lot to learn on barriers and discrimination to disabled persons. Please go to these events.
That said: I loved the passage she read from her book so much that I bought her book there and have hardly been able to put it down since, reading it till late at night and picking it up again in any five free minutes. Her memoir is compelling, beautifully written, and overall strives for a balance and generosity that is quite extraordinary, given the material. Even when I didn't agree with her (and she's very right when she says that her fellow feminists are going to be outraged at the rape chapter; I know I was), I enjoyed and learned a lot from her arguments and perspectives. I'm so glad this book exists in the world, and I think if you read it, you will be too.
That said: I loved the passage she read from her book so much that I bought her book there and have hardly been able to put it down since, reading it till late at night and picking it up again in any five free minutes. Her memoir is compelling, beautifully written, and overall strives for a balance and generosity that is quite extraordinary, given the material. Even when I didn't agree with her (and she's very right when she says that her fellow feminists are going to be outraged at the rape chapter; I know I was), I enjoyed and learned a lot from her arguments and perspectives. I'm so glad this book exists in the world, and I think if you read it, you will be too.
March 23, 2020
This book is deeply personal in many ways, primarily because of the vulnerability Palmer shares with readers. Falling For Myself is the second book Dorothy Palmer has written, after her novel When Fenelon Falls was published in 2010, along with other pieces in anthologies such as “Crutch, Cage, Sword, Kerfuffle” in Nothing Without Us. No matter the piece, Palmers writing is transfixing. Her vulnerable, truthful, blunt and hilarious discussion of disability in Falling For Myself is what kept me glued to the pages. As someone who regularly reads auto-biographical non-fiction and memoirs I can confidently say Palmer’s memoir is one of my all-time favorites. It does not follow a typical memoir formula, instead it allows you to step into Dorothy’s life to experience what she experienced. Everything from the formatting of the book and chapter titles, to the unflinching bluntness and hilariously relatable tales of embarrassment make this a top-shelf pick.
The formatting of the book is clever and captivating. The first letter of each of the 26 chapters are in alphabetical order – chapter one begins with A, 2 begins with B and so on. I think this is a super cute and creative way to have fun in a book that discusses some pretty heave topics. Falling For Myself is also in a way, split into two sets of stories. The first being a more “traditional” memoir formatted true-life story. Palmer shares her memories of living through the foster care system, being adopted by a family that never welcomes her, becoming a teacher, mentor, wife, mother, and activist. These parts of the book are sometimes hard to read and digest, but I believe that is the beauty of it. These were not always easy parts for Palmer to live through, and she wrote them as such. This part of the book also begins the story of Dorothy’s efforts to find her birth parents. The second part of the book is an intimate look at life with a disability. Palmer shares stories of pain, surgeries, and abuse that are frankly horrifying. Of course, these parts of the book are hard to read as well, but they are a necessary part of the story of Dorothy’s life. It was during these parts that I felt the most connection to Palmer and her story. This personal connection pulled me in throughout the whole book. I knew before reading that Dorothy had lived in/visited Fenelon Falls, and like Dorothy, I also spent much of my childhood there. To me Fenelon Falls is a home away from home and is somewhere that I feel entirely safe and welcome. While reading Falling For Myself, I could picture places Dorothy may have been talking about. This came with a deep personal reflection for me and allowed me to feel a deep connection with Dorothy. Dorothy grew up being told her disability was a burden, and that she was unworthy of success, love or family. The stories Dorothy tells are so relatable in so many ways, no matter your ability, age, or gender, you will be able to laugh and cry along with her.
When considering the book as a whole (after reading it twice), I recognize that Dorothy’s writing style and language may not be the fluffy, romantic writing many are used to reading in memoirs. This is truly what I loved most about it, the topics Palmer discusses are not fluffy and romantic, they are real and raw and rarely talked about. Part of me wants to feel defensive about this style of writing, I wish that others would understand that making you uncomfortable is the point. Disability can be uncomfortable, being a woman can be uncomfortable, being an educator can be uncomfortable, being a wife or a mother or a child can ALL be uncomfortable. Then I consider who this book is for, and I begin to think this book is for the people who are already uncomfortable, the people like Dorothy, like myself, like my peers, who are already uncomfortable and want to share the hilarious and upsetting discomfort we are all experiencing.
When reading other reviews, I often saw that other readers found Dorothy’s writing to be extreme – which it is. It is important to take into account your positioning when reviewing, are you uncomfortable because you are participating in ableism and this book is forcing you to face it? Are you uncomfortable because a woman is openly discussing sex? Are you uncomfortable because a disabled person is telling the stories she lived through? These are all important things to consider, and they are all parts of Dorothy’s life.
The formatting of the book is clever and captivating. The first letter of each of the 26 chapters are in alphabetical order – chapter one begins with A, 2 begins with B and so on. I think this is a super cute and creative way to have fun in a book that discusses some pretty heave topics. Falling For Myself is also in a way, split into two sets of stories. The first being a more “traditional” memoir formatted true-life story. Palmer shares her memories of living through the foster care system, being adopted by a family that never welcomes her, becoming a teacher, mentor, wife, mother, and activist. These parts of the book are sometimes hard to read and digest, but I believe that is the beauty of it. These were not always easy parts for Palmer to live through, and she wrote them as such. This part of the book also begins the story of Dorothy’s efforts to find her birth parents. The second part of the book is an intimate look at life with a disability. Palmer shares stories of pain, surgeries, and abuse that are frankly horrifying. Of course, these parts of the book are hard to read as well, but they are a necessary part of the story of Dorothy’s life. It was during these parts that I felt the most connection to Palmer and her story. This personal connection pulled me in throughout the whole book. I knew before reading that Dorothy had lived in/visited Fenelon Falls, and like Dorothy, I also spent much of my childhood there. To me Fenelon Falls is a home away from home and is somewhere that I feel entirely safe and welcome. While reading Falling For Myself, I could picture places Dorothy may have been talking about. This came with a deep personal reflection for me and allowed me to feel a deep connection with Dorothy. Dorothy grew up being told her disability was a burden, and that she was unworthy of success, love or family. The stories Dorothy tells are so relatable in so many ways, no matter your ability, age, or gender, you will be able to laugh and cry along with her.
When considering the book as a whole (after reading it twice), I recognize that Dorothy’s writing style and language may not be the fluffy, romantic writing many are used to reading in memoirs. This is truly what I loved most about it, the topics Palmer discusses are not fluffy and romantic, they are real and raw and rarely talked about. Part of me wants to feel defensive about this style of writing, I wish that others would understand that making you uncomfortable is the point. Disability can be uncomfortable, being a woman can be uncomfortable, being an educator can be uncomfortable, being a wife or a mother or a child can ALL be uncomfortable. Then I consider who this book is for, and I begin to think this book is for the people who are already uncomfortable, the people like Dorothy, like myself, like my peers, who are already uncomfortable and want to share the hilarious and upsetting discomfort we are all experiencing.
When reading other reviews, I often saw that other readers found Dorothy’s writing to be extreme – which it is. It is important to take into account your positioning when reviewing, are you uncomfortable because you are participating in ableism and this book is forcing you to face it? Are you uncomfortable because a woman is openly discussing sex? Are you uncomfortable because a disabled person is telling the stories she lived through? These are all important things to consider, and they are all parts of Dorothy’s life.
March 12, 2021
Falling for Myself is a sharp, unapologetic, no-punches-pulled memoir by Canadian author and advocate Dorothy Allen Palmer, detailing her life with a congenital foot anomaly and delving into issues of adoption, activism, and aging. With unflinching honesty, Palmer takes us through a childhood of bloody stockings and unanswered questions, to her years as a teacher and her experience finding a place in disability activism.
It is a powerful book; it is also a very difficult book to criticize. Because of its deeply personal subject matter, and because of my own privilege over its author in the area of physical ability, I worry that any critique I level would be interpreted as ableist, or worse, seen as an invalidation of Palmer’s trauma and experiences. It would have been much easier and less nerve-wracking to rate this book five stars, but in the end, I respect the author too much to provide anything but my honest review.
At its best, Falling for Myself is a magnificent memoir. Palmer’s writing in many parts of the book is clear, honest, occasionally brutal, and rich with implicit (but no less powerful) calls for action and change. It is reminiscent in some ways of a die-in, provocative in its simplicity and all the more powerful for its lack of preaching tone. At its worst, however, the book leans into self-righteous hypocrisy. Palmer alternately preaches for eradicating the word stupid, and tells stories of using excessively eloquent and verbose language to shame service workers who lack her educated vocabulary. She talks at great length about the problems with pity, but pivots just pages later to an unapologetic discussion of her own self-pity, pulling in pity-of-others as a logical device to defend it. She decries labeling people as attractive as “street harassment beyond the street,” when pages earlier, she insists that there must be some small part of female victims of catcalling that takes it as a satisfying confirmation that they are appealing to men (there is not, and we do not). She details her childhood cruelty towards a disabled boy, and— chapters later, as though we might have forgotten it— continually emphasizes that impact matters more than intent and refuses to grant the benefit of the doubt her younger self might have deserved to any individuals she deems ableist in words or deeds.
Of course, the human experience is inherently hypocritical. We can hold principles while not adhering to them flawlessly in every minute of every day. I will confidently say that there are views I have upheld, things I have done, and words I have uttered that I went on to decry in the strongest possible terms… and occasionally on to espouse again. There is nothing wrong with a memoir that is honest even when that honesty exposes cruelty, or hypocrisy, or shame. In fact, those are the very best sorts of memoirs: the ones that serve as a reminder that we all err, all fall eventually into the dominant paradigms of the world in which we were raised, and all have an opportunity— even an obligation— to learn from the experience and do better. But writing such a book requires that the author/narrator be willing to admit that they have built a glass house, and to be somewhat less free with casting stones for the duration of their piece. Because of this, it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to write a book that is both moving memoir and effective point-by-point manifesto. In Falling for Myself, Palmer has made an effort to do so— and the book, unfortunately, is poorer for it.
Once one makes an effort to look beyond that criticism, however, Palmer’s sharp wit and engaging prose do shine. She tackles some of the darkest moments in her life head-on, with gut-wrenching directness and clever metaphor in equal helpings. Far from the medicalized language with which we are conditioned to apply to disability, Falling for Myself features Palmer’s feet as characters in their own right, alongside a supporting cast of appropriately christened mobility aids. Thus equipped, Palmer leads us through her story, with frequent tangents along the way to explore the social contexts that shaped her life from conception to the present day. She invites us with her to picket lines and pediatricians, lets us sit beside her in the sweet pain relief of an epidural and watch from the sidelines in a family courtroom. In her intersection of age, disability, gender, and poverty, she clears a space and suggests wryly that we make ourselves at home for a while. The experience is surprisingly intimate, with Palmer’s dry humor serving as a welcome interlude in sections that begin to grow too heavy.
Overall, while I found some parts of the book frustrating, it’s hard to dispute that Falling for Myself is a powerful read written by a highly skilled author. Palmer’s experience and perspective provides a great deal for the reader to learn from, and her writing raises uncomfortable questions that you’ll likely be chewing on for months to come. 3 out of 5 stars.
It is a powerful book; it is also a very difficult book to criticize. Because of its deeply personal subject matter, and because of my own privilege over its author in the area of physical ability, I worry that any critique I level would be interpreted as ableist, or worse, seen as an invalidation of Palmer’s trauma and experiences. It would have been much easier and less nerve-wracking to rate this book five stars, but in the end, I respect the author too much to provide anything but my honest review.
At its best, Falling for Myself is a magnificent memoir. Palmer’s writing in many parts of the book is clear, honest, occasionally brutal, and rich with implicit (but no less powerful) calls for action and change. It is reminiscent in some ways of a die-in, provocative in its simplicity and all the more powerful for its lack of preaching tone. At its worst, however, the book leans into self-righteous hypocrisy. Palmer alternately preaches for eradicating the word stupid, and tells stories of using excessively eloquent and verbose language to shame service workers who lack her educated vocabulary. She talks at great length about the problems with pity, but pivots just pages later to an unapologetic discussion of her own self-pity, pulling in pity-of-others as a logical device to defend it. She decries labeling people as attractive as “street harassment beyond the street,” when pages earlier, she insists that there must be some small part of female victims of catcalling that takes it as a satisfying confirmation that they are appealing to men (there is not, and we do not). She details her childhood cruelty towards a disabled boy, and— chapters later, as though we might have forgotten it— continually emphasizes that impact matters more than intent and refuses to grant the benefit of the doubt her younger self might have deserved to any individuals she deems ableist in words or deeds.
Of course, the human experience is inherently hypocritical. We can hold principles while not adhering to them flawlessly in every minute of every day. I will confidently say that there are views I have upheld, things I have done, and words I have uttered that I went on to decry in the strongest possible terms… and occasionally on to espouse again. There is nothing wrong with a memoir that is honest even when that honesty exposes cruelty, or hypocrisy, or shame. In fact, those are the very best sorts of memoirs: the ones that serve as a reminder that we all err, all fall eventually into the dominant paradigms of the world in which we were raised, and all have an opportunity— even an obligation— to learn from the experience and do better. But writing such a book requires that the author/narrator be willing to admit that they have built a glass house, and to be somewhat less free with casting stones for the duration of their piece. Because of this, it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to write a book that is both moving memoir and effective point-by-point manifesto. In Falling for Myself, Palmer has made an effort to do so— and the book, unfortunately, is poorer for it.
Once one makes an effort to look beyond that criticism, however, Palmer’s sharp wit and engaging prose do shine. She tackles some of the darkest moments in her life head-on, with gut-wrenching directness and clever metaphor in equal helpings. Far from the medicalized language with which we are conditioned to apply to disability, Falling for Myself features Palmer’s feet as characters in their own right, alongside a supporting cast of appropriately christened mobility aids. Thus equipped, Palmer leads us through her story, with frequent tangents along the way to explore the social contexts that shaped her life from conception to the present day. She invites us with her to picket lines and pediatricians, lets us sit beside her in the sweet pain relief of an epidural and watch from the sidelines in a family courtroom. In her intersection of age, disability, gender, and poverty, she clears a space and suggests wryly that we make ourselves at home for a while. The experience is surprisingly intimate, with Palmer’s dry humor serving as a welcome interlude in sections that begin to grow too heavy.
Overall, while I found some parts of the book frustrating, it’s hard to dispute that Falling for Myself is a powerful read written by a highly skilled author. Palmer’s experience and perspective provides a great deal for the reader to learn from, and her writing raises uncomfortable questions that you’ll likely be chewing on for months to come. 3 out of 5 stars.
March 11, 2021
Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s memoir, Falling for Myself, is a personal and intersectional exploration of disability through the framework of her life as a disabled, adopted woman growing up in the 1950s. Rather than one of overcoming disability, Palmer’s story is one of growing into herself and recognizing that the strife she faced in regards to disability was less related to disability itself, and more related to the ableism around her.
An important theme of this text is that of the disabled closet, a symbolic space within which Palmer hid their disabilities as a means of fitting in (Palmer 2019: XV). For Palmer, living inside the “disabled closet” is also rooted in adoption and family. Since her adoption in 1958, Palmer’s mother dressed her in shoes which hurt her clubbed feet, inciting Palmer’s childhood mentality whereby she kept silent about her pain to maintain her mother’s peace (Palmer 2019: 1-5). She continued to feel burdensome and less-than throughout her childhood, largely due to the nature of her adoption, where her mother chose her biological children first over Palmer and another adopted sibling (Palmer 2019: 6-7). Thus, Palmer also relates to disability through its intersections with family and adoption, as the disabled body is typically framed as “less real” than the abled-body, and the adopted family less real than the biological.
However, importantly, Palmer takes a critical approach to family and disability, in that she depicts it as something which can be found. She discovers family within her respective disability and feminist communities through shared experiences, and within the activist Stella Young, who felt like her first maternal figure at age fifty-nine (Palmer 2019: 161-174). This notion of family was an important reminder to me about how family transcends legality and blood relations, and personally helped me understand disability as a gift through familial histories can be healed, and futures uncovered.
Another crucial theme to recognize when critically reviewing this memoir is internalized ableism, of which Palmer had to address as it led her to hurt and discriminate against other disabled folks, such as her peer Rosamunde, or her first romantic partner, Gerald (Palmer 2019). Her cruelty toward these two individuals serves to both illuminate the pervasiveness of ableism as well as humanize the disabled individual as a complex being, rather than a perfect angel so many tropes present the visibly disabled character as. Turning to disability activism permitted Palmer to work through her internalized ableism, changing the way in which she understood valued bodies according to ableist ideologies (Palmer 2019: 286). This necessitates a change in the audience’s mind, as well. Although many readers are probably able-bodied or unfamiliar with disability activism, Palmer does not refrain from addressing everyone’s connections to ableism and the need to address it.
One lens through which she addresses internalized ableism is through language, particularly in how we use and refer to ableist language and symbolism without realizing. For instance, “taking a stand” positions the active, standing body, as a positive one which invokes change, contrasting it with the seated body, who consequently occupies a space of inaction and negativity (Palmer 2019: 142). Through this analogy, I reconsidered my own ableist choices in language, helping me be more keenly aware of the ways in which my words are powerful and can affect others in ways unseen to me. It is also beneficial to the audience who also may be unaware of the ways in which their choices of language may reinforce ableism and exclusion.
Representation is also critical to addressing ableism, as Palmer describes it as a tool to change one’s own life as well as the lives of other underrepresented folks. One of her earliest accesses to good representation was through Dr. Salter, the first person to acknowledge her clubbed foot, its pain, and the treatments it required (Palmer 2019: 30). She also criticizes how the only visible disabled characters have been angelic Tiny Tim archetypes, which manifest from colonial perceptions of the bodies and its values for capitalism (Palmer 2019: 102-136).
Overall, this memoir is important as it places change within the realm of the personal, requiring a critical analysis of how everyone engages in ableism. This book is an important read for someone looking for a deep, personalized understanding of disability. Whether it is the language we speak, the spaces we inhabit, or the stories we consume, justice is navigated through self-reflection and asking questions (Palmer 2019: 292). Thus, this book is perfect for someone looking to do just that: to ask questions.
An important theme of this text is that of the disabled closet, a symbolic space within which Palmer hid their disabilities as a means of fitting in (Palmer 2019: XV). For Palmer, living inside the “disabled closet” is also rooted in adoption and family. Since her adoption in 1958, Palmer’s mother dressed her in shoes which hurt her clubbed feet, inciting Palmer’s childhood mentality whereby she kept silent about her pain to maintain her mother’s peace (Palmer 2019: 1-5). She continued to feel burdensome and less-than throughout her childhood, largely due to the nature of her adoption, where her mother chose her biological children first over Palmer and another adopted sibling (Palmer 2019: 6-7). Thus, Palmer also relates to disability through its intersections with family and adoption, as the disabled body is typically framed as “less real” than the abled-body, and the adopted family less real than the biological.
However, importantly, Palmer takes a critical approach to family and disability, in that she depicts it as something which can be found. She discovers family within her respective disability and feminist communities through shared experiences, and within the activist Stella Young, who felt like her first maternal figure at age fifty-nine (Palmer 2019: 161-174). This notion of family was an important reminder to me about how family transcends legality and blood relations, and personally helped me understand disability as a gift through familial histories can be healed, and futures uncovered.
Another crucial theme to recognize when critically reviewing this memoir is internalized ableism, of which Palmer had to address as it led her to hurt and discriminate against other disabled folks, such as her peer Rosamunde, or her first romantic partner, Gerald (Palmer 2019). Her cruelty toward these two individuals serves to both illuminate the pervasiveness of ableism as well as humanize the disabled individual as a complex being, rather than a perfect angel so many tropes present the visibly disabled character as. Turning to disability activism permitted Palmer to work through her internalized ableism, changing the way in which she understood valued bodies according to ableist ideologies (Palmer 2019: 286). This necessitates a change in the audience’s mind, as well. Although many readers are probably able-bodied or unfamiliar with disability activism, Palmer does not refrain from addressing everyone’s connections to ableism and the need to address it.
One lens through which she addresses internalized ableism is through language, particularly in how we use and refer to ableist language and symbolism without realizing. For instance, “taking a stand” positions the active, standing body, as a positive one which invokes change, contrasting it with the seated body, who consequently occupies a space of inaction and negativity (Palmer 2019: 142). Through this analogy, I reconsidered my own ableist choices in language, helping me be more keenly aware of the ways in which my words are powerful and can affect others in ways unseen to me. It is also beneficial to the audience who also may be unaware of the ways in which their choices of language may reinforce ableism and exclusion.
Representation is also critical to addressing ableism, as Palmer describes it as a tool to change one’s own life as well as the lives of other underrepresented folks. One of her earliest accesses to good representation was through Dr. Salter, the first person to acknowledge her clubbed foot, its pain, and the treatments it required (Palmer 2019: 30). She also criticizes how the only visible disabled characters have been angelic Tiny Tim archetypes, which manifest from colonial perceptions of the bodies and its values for capitalism (Palmer 2019: 102-136).
Overall, this memoir is important as it places change within the realm of the personal, requiring a critical analysis of how everyone engages in ableism. This book is an important read for someone looking for a deep, personalized understanding of disability. Whether it is the language we speak, the spaces we inhabit, or the stories we consume, justice is navigated through self-reflection and asking questions (Palmer 2019: 292). Thus, this book is perfect for someone looking to do just that: to ask questions.
March 11, 2021
Falling for Myself: A Memoir
A Review of Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s memoir, “Falling for Myself”
(Wolsak and Wynn Publishers Ltd.)
By Rebecca Jackson
Dorothy Palmer’s memoir is an insightful yet witty story of her life as a woman with congenital anomalies in both feet. She tells her story from the very beginning; being adopted by a family with their own personal struggles. From many childhood surgeries, being a feminist teacher, and mother, she has always tried to hide who she was. The stigmas, stereotypes and outright discrimination is something Dorothy has endured throughout her whole life, unable to find her voice and fight back against it. Throughout the troubles and triumphs of her disability, she is now standing proud with her walker and sharing her life journey. She has grown defiant of societies ideals of disability but accepting of herself from finding her birth parents and new family within the disability community.
Dorothy discusses her childhood and life living with parents who have been trying to overcome their own struggles. Desperately longing for the acceptance of her disability from her mother. Growing up hearing “it’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of” but showing shame and disappointment with her actions made Dorothy feel like a burden. The extra money spent for Dorothy’s disability did not help when trying to see herself as a normal child. She knew she was different and knew the stress she caused her family. The unacceptance she felt by her mother transitioned to how she viewed others in society. The constant name calling because of her disability made her unwelcomed by her classmates and later on in life, her colleagues. Running away from others who had disabilities because she did not want to be associated with more discrimination was an act of running away from who she was.
Endless doctor’s appointment with doctors that did not respect her and her disability was a common occurrence. Forcing her to do treatments which caused pain to her feet, as well as her feelings. It wasn’t until Dr. Salter when she actually felt respected. He always asked permission to touch her feet, made her feel accepted, and expressed options for her procedures in which he made her feel like she had control over her own body thus, her disability. Out of all the doctors she went to, he was the only one that showed basic respect and acknowledgment of her feelings. It shows the health care system and the lack of care for individuals with disabilities. It shows the power dynamic of the medical system. Those who have a disability are seen as being less than in the eyes of all society. If they are disabled, black, and a woman, they have even less power. Doctors often look at individuals with disabilities at a lower priority compared to able bodied individuals; something that Dorothy has experienced many times before meeting Dr. Salter.
Dorothy’s active feminist role is greatly acknowledged in her memoir. She points out the constant disapproval women receive in society and how it was heightened because of her disability. Men hold the power within society, which created inequality in everyday life. Dorothy explained the brutal details of her divorce and the financial affects it had on her. Not paying child support, not even knowing where he went, reflects back to the system. Knowing that she could not financially support herself and her children fairly without money he owed, drastically affected her lifestyle. He is a man; she is a woman with a disability. The system reflects their priorities as Dorothy humorously but so seriously conceptualized in her writing.
The lack of accessibility for disabled bodies is very apparent throughout her memoir. She discusses how trips to the mall or any store for that matter, is much more of a process than an able-bodied person’s trip. People parking in handicap spaces, doors not staying open long enough, therefore, closing on her, her walker being too wide for doors, lack of ramps, and many more obstacles. There needs to be more urgency of accessibility measures for disabled individuals. Taking away their right to do basic everyday tasks is dehumanizing, showing how this world is systemically built for abled people.
She gave the readers knowledge on her life as a woman with a disability. She hates the idea of this memoir being ‘inspiration porn’ as she says, however, she wants us to laugh. She does not want to be the stereotype that “funny fat women are always angry” so she wrote it in a sense that accepted laughter of certain aspects of her life while simultaneously making us more aware of our own involvement in discrimination, stereotypes, and stigmas of disabled individuals. Able-bodied people can be advocating to social justice to better understand and create more accessibility to the disabled community.
Dorothy Palmer used humour and complete honesty about her journey through her life. It made me take a step back and evaluate my understanding of disability and how I might have contributed or continue to contribute to the inequalities of the disabled community. She made me question my beliefs and choices within the realms of disability, gender, income, and all of the other intersectionality’s she touched on. She does not want to be pitied, so I don’t pity her; I understand what I need to do as an able-bodied person. After reading, “abled people want to control the words they will agree to use about disabled people because it dictates their need to respond or not”, I realized how important it is to acknowledge the even subtle power structures and inequalities there are in regard to disabled individuals compared to abled people. Dorothy encouraged me to change, and she will encourage many others because of her memoir, “Falling for Myself”.
References
Palmer, D. E. (2019). Falling for myself: A memoir. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn.
A Review of Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s memoir, “Falling for Myself”
(Wolsak and Wynn Publishers Ltd.)
By Rebecca Jackson
Dorothy Palmer’s memoir is an insightful yet witty story of her life as a woman with congenital anomalies in both feet. She tells her story from the very beginning; being adopted by a family with their own personal struggles. From many childhood surgeries, being a feminist teacher, and mother, she has always tried to hide who she was. The stigmas, stereotypes and outright discrimination is something Dorothy has endured throughout her whole life, unable to find her voice and fight back against it. Throughout the troubles and triumphs of her disability, she is now standing proud with her walker and sharing her life journey. She has grown defiant of societies ideals of disability but accepting of herself from finding her birth parents and new family within the disability community.
Dorothy discusses her childhood and life living with parents who have been trying to overcome their own struggles. Desperately longing for the acceptance of her disability from her mother. Growing up hearing “it’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of” but showing shame and disappointment with her actions made Dorothy feel like a burden. The extra money spent for Dorothy’s disability did not help when trying to see herself as a normal child. She knew she was different and knew the stress she caused her family. The unacceptance she felt by her mother transitioned to how she viewed others in society. The constant name calling because of her disability made her unwelcomed by her classmates and later on in life, her colleagues. Running away from others who had disabilities because she did not want to be associated with more discrimination was an act of running away from who she was.
Endless doctor’s appointment with doctors that did not respect her and her disability was a common occurrence. Forcing her to do treatments which caused pain to her feet, as well as her feelings. It wasn’t until Dr. Salter when she actually felt respected. He always asked permission to touch her feet, made her feel accepted, and expressed options for her procedures in which he made her feel like she had control over her own body thus, her disability. Out of all the doctors she went to, he was the only one that showed basic respect and acknowledgment of her feelings. It shows the health care system and the lack of care for individuals with disabilities. It shows the power dynamic of the medical system. Those who have a disability are seen as being less than in the eyes of all society. If they are disabled, black, and a woman, they have even less power. Doctors often look at individuals with disabilities at a lower priority compared to able bodied individuals; something that Dorothy has experienced many times before meeting Dr. Salter.
Dorothy’s active feminist role is greatly acknowledged in her memoir. She points out the constant disapproval women receive in society and how it was heightened because of her disability. Men hold the power within society, which created inequality in everyday life. Dorothy explained the brutal details of her divorce and the financial affects it had on her. Not paying child support, not even knowing where he went, reflects back to the system. Knowing that she could not financially support herself and her children fairly without money he owed, drastically affected her lifestyle. He is a man; she is a woman with a disability. The system reflects their priorities as Dorothy humorously but so seriously conceptualized in her writing.
The lack of accessibility for disabled bodies is very apparent throughout her memoir. She discusses how trips to the mall or any store for that matter, is much more of a process than an able-bodied person’s trip. People parking in handicap spaces, doors not staying open long enough, therefore, closing on her, her walker being too wide for doors, lack of ramps, and many more obstacles. There needs to be more urgency of accessibility measures for disabled individuals. Taking away their right to do basic everyday tasks is dehumanizing, showing how this world is systemically built for abled people.
She gave the readers knowledge on her life as a woman with a disability. She hates the idea of this memoir being ‘inspiration porn’ as she says, however, she wants us to laugh. She does not want to be the stereotype that “funny fat women are always angry” so she wrote it in a sense that accepted laughter of certain aspects of her life while simultaneously making us more aware of our own involvement in discrimination, stereotypes, and stigmas of disabled individuals. Able-bodied people can be advocating to social justice to better understand and create more accessibility to the disabled community.
Dorothy Palmer used humour and complete honesty about her journey through her life. It made me take a step back and evaluate my understanding of disability and how I might have contributed or continue to contribute to the inequalities of the disabled community. She made me question my beliefs and choices within the realms of disability, gender, income, and all of the other intersectionality’s she touched on. She does not want to be pitied, so I don’t pity her; I understand what I need to do as an able-bodied person. After reading, “abled people want to control the words they will agree to use about disabled people because it dictates their need to respond or not”, I realized how important it is to acknowledge the even subtle power structures and inequalities there are in regard to disabled individuals compared to abled people. Dorothy encouraged me to change, and she will encourage many others because of her memoir, “Falling for Myself”.
References
Palmer, D. E. (2019). Falling for myself: A memoir. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn.
March 7, 2021
Falling for myself: a memoir
Dorothy Ellen Palmer
Publisher: Wolsak and Wynn Publishers Ltd.
280 James Street North
Hamilton, ON
Canada L8R 2L3
ISBN 978198946039. CAD $ 20.00
The author’s perspective is to emphasize how she managed to live in an ableist society as a disabled woman. The book answers the question of what it is like to be a disabled woman and how she has overcome her challenges in life.
The author Dorothy Palmer, was born into proclaim about she managed to live with the disability, how she experience her disabled body and to show the reality about societal negative aspects towards disability.
From my perspective, this book differentiates from other books because it is an exceptional version of gift for readers. Palmer’s theoretical overview is grounded on her personal disabled life experiences and how the world works against and towards disabled people. This book speaks to me in various aspects such as I am speaking to my self and it helps me to blow my mind to raise my voice against different kinds of societal discriminatory actions against people with disabilities.
To illustrate my ideas about how other writers have seen this book is a significant marker to show the importance of the book. For instance, first opinion about this book, “Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s falling For Myself is a powerful call for a mass social justice movement that doesn’t ignore Disability justice” Farzana Doctor, author of All Inclusive (Palmer, 2019). Second, “this book reads like a map of exposed nerves. It is a raw, detailed rendering of a disabled woman’s life that, in the end, offers a beautifully discomforting and necessary gift of unapologetic, even gleeful defiance” by Adam Pottle, author of Voice: On Writing with Deafness” (Palmer, 2019), third, “this book has been dedicated to the lives and living legacies of Stella Young and Audre Lorde” (Palmer, 2019) and fourth, “and when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed but when we are silent we are still afraid. So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive” (Audre Lorde, A LITANY FOR SURVIVAL,” THE BLACK UNICORN” (Palmer, 2019).
From my perspective, the target audience of this book is school children, university students and faculty and the general public including policy makers. To mention that, children can learn through their childhood about other people’s hardships in life, university students and faculty can raise the awareness by reading to stand against discriminatory acts against disabled people and policy makers who can easily provide accommodations for these vulnerable groups by provide funding to improve accessibility for everyone. In addition, Palmer has portrayed the psychological and physical barriers disabled people have to go through when they live in a able bodied society.
In this paragraph I would illustrate my ideas on course materials I have learned in Gender and disability in Canada course. Margaret Atwood’s, “victimhood” or “victim positions” explains how disabled women are placed in the society. With attention to, “the first epigraph of Atwood’s survival expresses fear of the incomplete body as though the deviation from a normative physical frame is somehow detrimental to instead of vital-artistic production” (Chivers, 2016,p. 878). In other words, how disabled people can raise their voices through their language. For instance, “language is power. Words don’t simply relate experience they shape and value it. New words smash and recast power” (Palmer, 2019, p.140).
Furthermore, how discourse should be changed in order to have the justice. As an example, “A living language can always be reborn” (Palmer, 2019, p.148). This example shows how Palmer experiences about her disabled body, “my disability rules my every breathing moment. It has had me all along. We need to hear from, and listen to, those impacted by the words we use” (Palmer, 2019, p.141). This example discusses how white feminists should listen to other voices to make a change in the society, “white feminists especially need to listen to BIPOC voices, meaning those who are black or Indigenous or people of colour” (Palmer, 2019, p.141).
“Disabled folks of every identity too often have to take the mic from abled hands, assuming they can get to, and into, the space and place where the mic is being used” (Palmer, 2019, p.143).
“It is also important to note that the disability movement itself desperately needs diversity”
For instance, As black disabled activists Vilissa Thompson so accurately campaigned on Twitter: # Disability Too White (Palmer, 2019, p.143).
“White activists like me also need to pass the mic and to listen when we do so” (Palmer, 2019, p.143).
“Disability activists must reach out and recruit seniors, especially seniors of all marginalized identities” (Palmer, 2019, p.141).
If I want to buy a book it should be an interesting topic for me, a paperback because it is easy to handle, then the date of published to find out a recent book which I can easily understand the content and lastly I would read reviews about the book. I don’t concern about the award winner book or not because I have seen and read many books which are never selected for awards. I like to pay attention to the content rather than the public choice. The author is answering various questions about disabled bodies and I did not see any weaknesses.
References
Palmer, D. E. (2019). Falling for myself: A memoir. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn.
Sugars, C. C. (2016). The Oxford Handbook of Canadian literature. In The Oxford handbook of Canadian literature (pp. 877-891). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Dorothy Ellen Palmer
Publisher: Wolsak and Wynn Publishers Ltd.
280 James Street North
Hamilton, ON
Canada L8R 2L3
ISBN 978198946039. CAD $ 20.00
The author’s perspective is to emphasize how she managed to live in an ableist society as a disabled woman. The book answers the question of what it is like to be a disabled woman and how she has overcome her challenges in life.
The author Dorothy Palmer, was born into proclaim about she managed to live with the disability, how she experience her disabled body and to show the reality about societal negative aspects towards disability.
From my perspective, this book differentiates from other books because it is an exceptional version of gift for readers. Palmer’s theoretical overview is grounded on her personal disabled life experiences and how the world works against and towards disabled people. This book speaks to me in various aspects such as I am speaking to my self and it helps me to blow my mind to raise my voice against different kinds of societal discriminatory actions against people with disabilities.
To illustrate my ideas about how other writers have seen this book is a significant marker to show the importance of the book. For instance, first opinion about this book, “Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s falling For Myself is a powerful call for a mass social justice movement that doesn’t ignore Disability justice” Farzana Doctor, author of All Inclusive (Palmer, 2019). Second, “this book reads like a map of exposed nerves. It is a raw, detailed rendering of a disabled woman’s life that, in the end, offers a beautifully discomforting and necessary gift of unapologetic, even gleeful defiance” by Adam Pottle, author of Voice: On Writing with Deafness” (Palmer, 2019), third, “this book has been dedicated to the lives and living legacies of Stella Young and Audre Lorde” (Palmer, 2019) and fourth, “and when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed but when we are silent we are still afraid. So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive” (Audre Lorde, A LITANY FOR SURVIVAL,” THE BLACK UNICORN” (Palmer, 2019).
From my perspective, the target audience of this book is school children, university students and faculty and the general public including policy makers. To mention that, children can learn through their childhood about other people’s hardships in life, university students and faculty can raise the awareness by reading to stand against discriminatory acts against disabled people and policy makers who can easily provide accommodations for these vulnerable groups by provide funding to improve accessibility for everyone. In addition, Palmer has portrayed the psychological and physical barriers disabled people have to go through when they live in a able bodied society.
In this paragraph I would illustrate my ideas on course materials I have learned in Gender and disability in Canada course. Margaret Atwood’s, “victimhood” or “victim positions” explains how disabled women are placed in the society. With attention to, “the first epigraph of Atwood’s survival expresses fear of the incomplete body as though the deviation from a normative physical frame is somehow detrimental to instead of vital-artistic production” (Chivers, 2016,p. 878). In other words, how disabled people can raise their voices through their language. For instance, “language is power. Words don’t simply relate experience they shape and value it. New words smash and recast power” (Palmer, 2019, p.140).
Furthermore, how discourse should be changed in order to have the justice. As an example, “A living language can always be reborn” (Palmer, 2019, p.148). This example shows how Palmer experiences about her disabled body, “my disability rules my every breathing moment. It has had me all along. We need to hear from, and listen to, those impacted by the words we use” (Palmer, 2019, p.141). This example discusses how white feminists should listen to other voices to make a change in the society, “white feminists especially need to listen to BIPOC voices, meaning those who are black or Indigenous or people of colour” (Palmer, 2019, p.141).
“Disabled folks of every identity too often have to take the mic from abled hands, assuming they can get to, and into, the space and place where the mic is being used” (Palmer, 2019, p.143).
“It is also important to note that the disability movement itself desperately needs diversity”
For instance, As black disabled activists Vilissa Thompson so accurately campaigned on Twitter: # Disability Too White (Palmer, 2019, p.143).
“White activists like me also need to pass the mic and to listen when we do so” (Palmer, 2019, p.143).
“Disability activists must reach out and recruit seniors, especially seniors of all marginalized identities” (Palmer, 2019, p.141).
If I want to buy a book it should be an interesting topic for me, a paperback because it is easy to handle, then the date of published to find out a recent book which I can easily understand the content and lastly I would read reviews about the book. I don’t concern about the award winner book or not because I have seen and read many books which are never selected for awards. I like to pay attention to the content rather than the public choice. The author is answering various questions about disabled bodies and I did not see any weaknesses.
References
Palmer, D. E. (2019). Falling for myself: A memoir. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn.
Sugars, C. C. (2016). The Oxford Handbook of Canadian literature. In The Oxford handbook of Canadian literature (pp. 877-891). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
September 2, 2021
This was a difficult book to read not because of the subject matter but because of the absence of any sense of balance in the authors life experiences. She has faced huge challenges that she describes in detail. But she references positive events ( academic, partners, children) in passing without any sense of their positive impact shaping her life. Perhaps it’s the COVID experience but the read was layer on layer of horrible circumstances and events. Input it on pause about half way through.
March 22, 2020
“Falling for Myself” by Dorothy Ellen Palmer, is an exceptional and extremely informative memoir surrounding Dorothy’s life with disability while living in an ableist society. Dorothy Palmer is a disabled woman, writer, and activist who calls readers to action, in my opinion, through this memoir. While some may think that this book is intended for the disabled community, I believe “Falling for Myself” reaches various audience types, both those apart of the disabled community but also those who are not. This book challenges a lot of ableist stereotypes and ideologies around the disabled community, therefore, able bodied people are equally important to hear Dorothy’s messages. Dorothy’s messages largely surround tropes of disability in which she has challenged and continues to challenge in her life. The idea that disabled people need to be hidden and/or/conform to ableist ideals, or the idea that all disabled people want and should be cured/healed, and the Tiny Tim image, are only some of the many tropes to disability that Dorothy explains throughout this book. Dorothy’s memoir is not a short and simple adventure where readers get taken on an inspirational journey, in fact this is exactly what Dorothy cautions against. Inspiration porn is a significant term that ableism as fostered. If a disabled person does something that is deemed out of the ordinary for them, society sees them as inspirational for overcoming something that is not exactly inspirational at all. Inspiration porn can be damaging to the disabled community and this is a strong message throughout. Palmer informs readers of the dark traumas of her life around childhood, accessibility, love etc, while also highlighting the joys surrounding motherhood, career successes, and the overall becoming of herself and the acceptance of her disability. Starting from childhood, Palmer explains how she was adopted at the age of three in 1985 to a family who quite frankly was not prepared to raise a child with a disability. This is where the trope of conforming and hiding disability largely came into play as Dorothy often tried to mask being seen as this doubly damaged disabled orphan. Dorothy was born with a foot deformity where her feet are two different sizes and causes her to continuously fall. Hence the title of her memoir, Palmer explains how her continuous falling caused immense frustration and anger throughout her life. For example, as a newly adopted child and girl in the 50s, Dorothy was expected to be a well put together girly girl which entailed little pink shoes and frilly outfits from time to time. Dorothy explains in one instance where she could not walk in the shoes at all due to her feet who she named Herkimer and Horatio, but she desperately wanted to be accepted by her family and society. Palmer continuously tried to conform to ableist ideals from then on and wanted nothing but to be seen as “normal”. Along side this, Dorothy was even put on display and gawked at/studied for her disability. This was a shocking part of the book for me, but was significant in understanding how oftentimes, disabled people are looked at as “freakshows” and something to be studied due to their differences. The underlying motivation behind this is that ableism assumes that all disabled people want and should be cured in order to be accepted in society. This is not the case Dorothy explains, as she eventually learned to love who she was which heavily includes her disability. As Dorothy explains how she was told to parade around naked in front of a room of men, she knew even then that this a huge downfall from society. Regarding inspiration porn, Dorothy’s stories are not to be taken as self pity, and the anger/frustrating tone of her writing demands this. While there were so many significant themes, tropes, and messages throughout this memoir, what stuck me as the most important message is to have self love. While seeming to be cliché, Dorothy truly enraptures the struggle to self worth but at the same time, shows the importance of it. Although she was conditioned to hide who she was and conform to the hierarchies of ableism, once Dorothy fully accepted herself, she was able to challenge every stereotype that was ever bestowed upon her. Often, disability is seen as something to hide, but as Dorothy explains, it is her identity and is something to be celebrated. This memoir takes readers through an emotional journey, but I don’t think it is meant to be a feel-good story. With Palmer’s snarky and sarcastic dark humour, readers get a glimpse into how disability is lived and just how overbearing ableism is in the world we live in today. This book opened my eyes to how we see disabled people as second class and how our structures, popular culture, education and so on are all centred on the needs of able-bodied people. “Falling for Myself” is an extremely informative read where you will be confronted with the truth, challenged on your beliefs and faced with complicated realities that are otherwise swept under the rug. In a space where there are not many disabled writers, “Falling for Myself” is a successful reclamation of space, recognition and respect. But again, don’t take this as inspiration porn and if you do, maybe give this a second read.
March 27, 2020
Falling For Myself by Dorothy Ellen Palmer is an autobiographical memoir that opens the mind of the audience to the realities of Palmer’s life as a Disabled woman in Canada. This book gives the reader a chance to look at life as a woman through Palmer’s Disabled, and now older, point of view, and to witness her journey to self-discovery, self-exploration, and self-love. Society makes everyday life difficult for many Disabled people, and the world of CanLit is no different, and so Falling For Myself is significant in that it is a book about Disability (amongst other things), by a Disabled woman, and thus helps to empower the Disabled community in Canada, and in CanLit.
Dorothy Ellen Palmer is a Disabled author in Canada. Raised in Toronto by her adoptive parents, she has been Disabled her whole life, although she did not identify as Disabled until later on in her life. Apart from writing, she has also been a public school teacher, and she is a mother as well. Despite the privileges she is granted for being white and cisgender, her age, Disability, and gender have not made her life any easier. While she still writes, she does not make much money, and this, coupled with the pain and limited mobility caused by her Disability, are some of her daily struggles, which she further discusses in the book. This book is likely intended for a mature audience, as some of its content can be dark and would not be suited for younger audiences. To me, this is a book by and for Disabled people, making the Disabled community the primary audience, however, as a non-Disabled person, I almost read the whole book in one sitting; even if you’re not Disabled, this book very well may have something that speaks to you, and if doesn’t, it’s at the very least educational. This book’s genre is autobiographical, and it’s this format that shapes the presentation of Disability found within into one that is very candid and very poignant. Palmer is Disabled, and has been her whole life; by sharing her story and the ways in which she relates to Disability, a light is shed on Disability issues in Canada (especially for non-Disabled readers) by a Disabled woman, and it’s this wealth of personal experience and inner turmoil that show readers what it means for Palmer, as a Disabled woman, to (literally) fall, to try and fail, to win, to discover herself, and to love who she is and those around her. Palmer talks about how, for a long time, she did not want to identify as “Disabled” and that she hid or ignored her disability when possible. She assumed that Disability was inherently something negative, something to hide. It was these ableist assumptions, paired with assumptions about womanhood, beauty, and social class, that Palmer struggles against –both internally and externally– throughout the book. Due to the nature of the genre and the fact that Palmer is drawing upon her own experiences and thoughts as a Disabled woman, I wouldn’t say this book uses any tropes about Disability; any perceived trope is a memory, thought, or feeling from Palmer’s life, not a piece of fiction cooked up by a non-Disabled author. The effect that this book had on me was profound, and I won’t speak for others who have read it, but I imagine it had to have meant something great to them as well. As a non-Disabled person, I cannot possibly hope to speak to the experiences of Disability, and so I don’t think I can fully appreciate and understand this book the way others may be able to. That being said, this book opened up my world and made it that much bigger. Reading about all of Palmer’s experiences and trials and emotions really gave me an in-depth look at the realities of Disability, and not just the aspects of it that I’ve gleaned from life, media, and classes. As a woman, there were many moments reading this book where I felt seen or understood by Palmer, or where I found myself saying “wow, I’ve never thought of _______ that way before,” and made mental notes to follow up on the new ideas I’d just read. There were lots of times where I felt sad and angry for Palmer, and there were many more times where I was angry at the world around her, not to mention all of the times I wished I could reach through the book and ask her questions or have a conversation with her myself. I also felt joy reading this book, because it truly was a joy to read about Palmer’s journey with self-exploration and self-love.
If I had not read this book but was considering it, I would want to know that it is at times upsetting, dark, and realistic in a way that makes you wish you had the superpower to protect any and all vulnerable people in the world. I would also like to know that this book is painfully candid, which of course makes the dark stuff darker, but also makes Palmer’s fantastic sense of humour that much funnier and that much more meaningful. You might cry reading this memoir, and you will definitely laugh, but most importantly you will be made aware of just some of the difficulties and traumas that many Disabled people face; if you are Disabled, I believe you will find this book empowering in all its truth, and if you are not Disabled, your understanding of and compassion for Disability issues will be forever deepened.
Dorothy Ellen Palmer is a Disabled author in Canada. Raised in Toronto by her adoptive parents, she has been Disabled her whole life, although she did not identify as Disabled until later on in her life. Apart from writing, she has also been a public school teacher, and she is a mother as well. Despite the privileges she is granted for being white and cisgender, her age, Disability, and gender have not made her life any easier. While she still writes, she does not make much money, and this, coupled with the pain and limited mobility caused by her Disability, are some of her daily struggles, which she further discusses in the book. This book is likely intended for a mature audience, as some of its content can be dark and would not be suited for younger audiences. To me, this is a book by and for Disabled people, making the Disabled community the primary audience, however, as a non-Disabled person, I almost read the whole book in one sitting; even if you’re not Disabled, this book very well may have something that speaks to you, and if doesn’t, it’s at the very least educational. This book’s genre is autobiographical, and it’s this format that shapes the presentation of Disability found within into one that is very candid and very poignant. Palmer is Disabled, and has been her whole life; by sharing her story and the ways in which she relates to Disability, a light is shed on Disability issues in Canada (especially for non-Disabled readers) by a Disabled woman, and it’s this wealth of personal experience and inner turmoil that show readers what it means for Palmer, as a Disabled woman, to (literally) fall, to try and fail, to win, to discover herself, and to love who she is and those around her. Palmer talks about how, for a long time, she did not want to identify as “Disabled” and that she hid or ignored her disability when possible. She assumed that Disability was inherently something negative, something to hide. It was these ableist assumptions, paired with assumptions about womanhood, beauty, and social class, that Palmer struggles against –both internally and externally– throughout the book. Due to the nature of the genre and the fact that Palmer is drawing upon her own experiences and thoughts as a Disabled woman, I wouldn’t say this book uses any tropes about Disability; any perceived trope is a memory, thought, or feeling from Palmer’s life, not a piece of fiction cooked up by a non-Disabled author. The effect that this book had on me was profound, and I won’t speak for others who have read it, but I imagine it had to have meant something great to them as well. As a non-Disabled person, I cannot possibly hope to speak to the experiences of Disability, and so I don’t think I can fully appreciate and understand this book the way others may be able to. That being said, this book opened up my world and made it that much bigger. Reading about all of Palmer’s experiences and trials and emotions really gave me an in-depth look at the realities of Disability, and not just the aspects of it that I’ve gleaned from life, media, and classes. As a woman, there were many moments reading this book where I felt seen or understood by Palmer, or where I found myself saying “wow, I’ve never thought of _______ that way before,” and made mental notes to follow up on the new ideas I’d just read. There were lots of times where I felt sad and angry for Palmer, and there were many more times where I was angry at the world around her, not to mention all of the times I wished I could reach through the book and ask her questions or have a conversation with her myself. I also felt joy reading this book, because it truly was a joy to read about Palmer’s journey with self-exploration and self-love.
If I had not read this book but was considering it, I would want to know that it is at times upsetting, dark, and realistic in a way that makes you wish you had the superpower to protect any and all vulnerable people in the world. I would also like to know that this book is painfully candid, which of course makes the dark stuff darker, but also makes Palmer’s fantastic sense of humour that much funnier and that much more meaningful. You might cry reading this memoir, and you will definitely laugh, but most importantly you will be made aware of just some of the difficulties and traumas that many Disabled people face; if you are Disabled, I believe you will find this book empowering in all its truth, and if you are not Disabled, your understanding of and compassion for Disability issues will be forever deepened.
June 11, 2020
I have just been stomped to pieces by Dorothy Ellen Palmer and trust me when I tell you that you, too, need a stomping. Read this searing, angry, smart, honest, funny, page-turning memoir. Feisty only begins to describe it.
January 24, 2020
What makes Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s memoir Falling for Myself so powerful and unforgettable is her unflinching honesty.
I’ve never read a memoir quite like it in terms of how much the author opens up about everything from a truly messy bathroom encounter to confessing to feeling jealous of her able-bodied daughter.
Palmer’s book is really two stories: her life story of being placed in seven foster homes before the age of three then being adopted into a dysfunctional family where she was made to feel like a burden. Palmer becomes a teacher, mentor, disabled rights activist, wife, mother and finally, a searcher who tries to find her birth parents. This leads to a whole other set of new adventures and new family members.
The second story is about living life with a disability. Born with severely deformed feet, Palmer writes about her daily battle with pain and balance that has made even the simplest acts, like pumping gas, a challenge.
As a child, she endured countless surgeries and during one of her trips to the hospital when she was eight and “with the first swelling of breast buds,” she was taken into the basement. It turned out her mother had agreed for Palmer to be part of a video so doctors could study how she walked. Palmer tells the horrific story of being stripped naked and made to walk across the room while being “gawked at by a room full of smoking men.”
Her anger at the incident is still fresh, especially when she contemplates the possibility that the video has been sold to “perverts” who get off on watching a “tiny, naked redhead, struggling to walk on scarred, deformed feet. And failing.”
Today, writes Palmer, this would be considered child abuse. Back then, it was just part of being a child with a disability who had no voice. There is story after story like this in Palmer’s book and while there’s not an ounce of self pity in her writing, her anger is palpable.
She freely admonishes the able-bodied world and urges change. Think about the books, movies and comics you’ve read who have had disabled characters, Palmer tells her readers. They are few and far between, she writes, and those who do show up, like Tiny Tim, are considered lesser than and are prone to being euthanized which Palmer writes, “made perfect sense in the ableist hierarchy we all absorb from childhood.”
Palmer helps us see life through the eyes of someone with a disability, like when she writes about the Oscar-winning movie The Shape of Water, which portrays the fairytale relationship between a mute woman and a creature. It was one of my favourite movies and my romanticized take on the meaning was that love can take many forms. From Palmer’s perspective, however, it’s about a “disabled woman who is so isolated and lonely she believes she can only be loved by a monster.”
Palmer grew up with constant reminders of her "inferior" status, for example, as a teacher, there were no other disabled colleagues at her school and no incentives to hire teachers with disabilities. Any staff who developed a disability were gradually transitioned into long term disability and those who disclosed to her that they had an invisible disability “begged her not to tell,” for fear of losing their jobs.
But it was the lack of characters with disabilities in books that angered her most.
“I went my whole life as a student and a teacher, longing for books with people ho looked like me. Longing to teach them, hoping to read them.”
Her honesty spills onto every page and she admits that while watching her daughter in her synchronized swim class that she felt jealous, angry and “impossibly inferior.”
There are plenty of ‘oh my god’ moments as well, like when her husband of 19 years suddenly takes off (the reason why he left is the shocking part). But perhaps the most memorable story involves the simple act of using a public washroom. It’s graphic and messy and illustrates how having a disability can permeate every moment of your life.
This isn’t a feel good book nor is it meant to be. While it’s funny in parts, it will mostly make you squirm. Ultimately, it’s a wake-up call to the able-bodied world to stop with the stereotyping of disabled people, stop turning their stories into inspiration porn, and start showing a little compassion.
During her visits to restaurants, Palmer is greeted with nasty comments for trying to squeeze past patrons with her walker. It’s heartbreaking to read, but we need to hear them.
The takeaway message for Palmer has been that “beautiful people are deserving and good; disabled people are ugly and crippled at heart.” And she’s right. We treat people who have a disability as second class. I’ve seen it in my daughter’s public school system where cuts are constantly being made to support services for students with special needs and I’ve seen it in the way we treat with people in wheelchairs.
Palmer’s message is that we need to change. After all, she writes, we’re all heading into old age which means our chances of developing some type of disability will increase. Palmer presents a convincing argument is to why that change needs to come sooner than later.
I’ve never read a memoir quite like it in terms of how much the author opens up about everything from a truly messy bathroom encounter to confessing to feeling jealous of her able-bodied daughter.
Palmer’s book is really two stories: her life story of being placed in seven foster homes before the age of three then being adopted into a dysfunctional family where she was made to feel like a burden. Palmer becomes a teacher, mentor, disabled rights activist, wife, mother and finally, a searcher who tries to find her birth parents. This leads to a whole other set of new adventures and new family members.
The second story is about living life with a disability. Born with severely deformed feet, Palmer writes about her daily battle with pain and balance that has made even the simplest acts, like pumping gas, a challenge.
As a child, she endured countless surgeries and during one of her trips to the hospital when she was eight and “with the first swelling of breast buds,” she was taken into the basement. It turned out her mother had agreed for Palmer to be part of a video so doctors could study how she walked. Palmer tells the horrific story of being stripped naked and made to walk across the room while being “gawked at by a room full of smoking men.”
Her anger at the incident is still fresh, especially when she contemplates the possibility that the video has been sold to “perverts” who get off on watching a “tiny, naked redhead, struggling to walk on scarred, deformed feet. And failing.”
Today, writes Palmer, this would be considered child abuse. Back then, it was just part of being a child with a disability who had no voice. There is story after story like this in Palmer’s book and while there’s not an ounce of self pity in her writing, her anger is palpable.
She freely admonishes the able-bodied world and urges change. Think about the books, movies and comics you’ve read who have had disabled characters, Palmer tells her readers. They are few and far between, she writes, and those who do show up, like Tiny Tim, are considered lesser than and are prone to being euthanized which Palmer writes, “made perfect sense in the ableist hierarchy we all absorb from childhood.”
Palmer helps us see life through the eyes of someone with a disability, like when she writes about the Oscar-winning movie The Shape of Water, which portrays the fairytale relationship between a mute woman and a creature. It was one of my favourite movies and my romanticized take on the meaning was that love can take many forms. From Palmer’s perspective, however, it’s about a “disabled woman who is so isolated and lonely she believes she can only be loved by a monster.”
Palmer grew up with constant reminders of her "inferior" status, for example, as a teacher, there were no other disabled colleagues at her school and no incentives to hire teachers with disabilities. Any staff who developed a disability were gradually transitioned into long term disability and those who disclosed to her that they had an invisible disability “begged her not to tell,” for fear of losing their jobs.
But it was the lack of characters with disabilities in books that angered her most.
“I went my whole life as a student and a teacher, longing for books with people ho looked like me. Longing to teach them, hoping to read them.”
Her honesty spills onto every page and she admits that while watching her daughter in her synchronized swim class that she felt jealous, angry and “impossibly inferior.”
There are plenty of ‘oh my god’ moments as well, like when her husband of 19 years suddenly takes off (the reason why he left is the shocking part). But perhaps the most memorable story involves the simple act of using a public washroom. It’s graphic and messy and illustrates how having a disability can permeate every moment of your life.
This isn’t a feel good book nor is it meant to be. While it’s funny in parts, it will mostly make you squirm. Ultimately, it’s a wake-up call to the able-bodied world to stop with the stereotyping of disabled people, stop turning their stories into inspiration porn, and start showing a little compassion.
During her visits to restaurants, Palmer is greeted with nasty comments for trying to squeeze past patrons with her walker. It’s heartbreaking to read, but we need to hear them.
The takeaway message for Palmer has been that “beautiful people are deserving and good; disabled people are ugly and crippled at heart.” And she’s right. We treat people who have a disability as second class. I’ve seen it in my daughter’s public school system where cuts are constantly being made to support services for students with special needs and I’ve seen it in the way we treat with people in wheelchairs.
Palmer’s message is that we need to change. After all, she writes, we’re all heading into old age which means our chances of developing some type of disability will increase. Palmer presents a convincing argument is to why that change needs to come sooner than later.
March 12, 2021
Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s memoir Falling for Myself is filled with snarky humour that will surely make you giggle as she tells the deeply moving story of her life. Palmer is a senior disabled writer who recounts her life’s journey and her many intersecting identities in Falling for Myself. Showing immense vulnerability, Palmer opens up about intimate moments in her life and challenges the social structures that have oppressed and marginalized her as a disabled, ageing woman living in Canada. Throughout the book, Palmer highlights her personal experiences of ableism, internalized ableism, adoption, childhood, dating and marriage, motherhood, ageing and ageism, medical care, abuse, poverty, and activism. While Falling for Myself primarily tells the story of Palmer’s life, the book also provides a critical narrative that educates its readers about disabled experiences.
Throughout the book, Palmer educates readers by providing important definitions and examples of ableism, inspiration porn, the medical and social models of disability, and Disability Justice. Palmer’s attention to theory and the different social structures that have impacted her life make this book more than just a memoir, but also a highly impactful and educational text. Through writing her memoir, Palmer provides readers with a personal and intimate presentation of her experiences as an ageing, disabled woman. By discussing personal topics, like the need to wear adult diapers, Palmer attempts to normalize things about ageing, disabled human bodies that are often shamed within society despite so many people sharing similar experiences. Throughout Falling for Myself, Palmer works to dispel different disability tropes that she has encountered during her life, and specifically highlights the character of Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol. Palmer examines the ways in which Tiny Tim has presented the image of a compliant and passive disabled person, acting as a story of inspiration porn while fueling further ableism under the guise of charity. Within the memoir, Palmer writes about her journey as an adoptee and finding her birth family, along with finding the disability community. Palmer highlights the support that she has received from the online disabled community, and how disabled activists work online to fight ableism and support and celebrate one another. Palmer also takes inspiration from disabled activists Stella Young and Audre Lorde throughout Falling for Myself, highlighting aspects of their work and noting how they have inspired Palmer’s own activism and perspectives.
While I enjoyed reading this book, some parts covered heavy topics and were difficult to read. Palmer discusses her experience of infant sexual abuse within the book, but provides a content warning in advance for readers who may opt to skip over that section for whatever reason. Within this memoir, Palmer also writes about how rape and sexual harassment have been parts of her life. Additionally, this book contains instances of ableism that can be difficult to read.
The presumed audience of this book includes readers who are socially conscious, or interested in topics like intersectional feminism, Disability Justice, and socialism. Palmer is a self-proclaimed socialist, unionist, and activist, and her passions for social justice are evident throughout the pages of Falling for Myself. As someone who is interested in these topics but had little knowledge about disabled experiences and Disability Justice before reading this book, I thoroughly enjoyed it and found myself learning a great deal while laughing along with Palmer’s sense of humour. As a disabled author writing about her personal experiences, Palmer’s tone may only be palatable to those who also have a certain distaste for social structures that oppress groups of people. The majority of the book is written with a humorous and somewhat snarky tone, which kept me turning the page. For some topics that elicit feelings of anger or frustration, Palmer’s tone changes to portray these emotions, and she even points this out to readers who may not immediately notice.
Palmer asserts that if readers are looking for an inspiring story about the disabled experience, they will not find it within her memoir. This is true. This book is not a story of inspiration porn. However, I felt deeply inspired by Palmer’s intersectional activism and desire for equity for all. Within this memoir, Palmer highlights the importance of including disabled people and their perspectives in discussions and movements regarding all issues in order to create intersectional activist movements that truly benefit all. This is a great book for readers who agree with the sentiment that all people deserve justice and equality, and who are interested in intersectional activism and Disability Justice.
Throughout the book, Palmer educates readers by providing important definitions and examples of ableism, inspiration porn, the medical and social models of disability, and Disability Justice. Palmer’s attention to theory and the different social structures that have impacted her life make this book more than just a memoir, but also a highly impactful and educational text. Through writing her memoir, Palmer provides readers with a personal and intimate presentation of her experiences as an ageing, disabled woman. By discussing personal topics, like the need to wear adult diapers, Palmer attempts to normalize things about ageing, disabled human bodies that are often shamed within society despite so many people sharing similar experiences. Throughout Falling for Myself, Palmer works to dispel different disability tropes that she has encountered during her life, and specifically highlights the character of Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol. Palmer examines the ways in which Tiny Tim has presented the image of a compliant and passive disabled person, acting as a story of inspiration porn while fueling further ableism under the guise of charity. Within the memoir, Palmer writes about her journey as an adoptee and finding her birth family, along with finding the disability community. Palmer highlights the support that she has received from the online disabled community, and how disabled activists work online to fight ableism and support and celebrate one another. Palmer also takes inspiration from disabled activists Stella Young and Audre Lorde throughout Falling for Myself, highlighting aspects of their work and noting how they have inspired Palmer’s own activism and perspectives.
While I enjoyed reading this book, some parts covered heavy topics and were difficult to read. Palmer discusses her experience of infant sexual abuse within the book, but provides a content warning in advance for readers who may opt to skip over that section for whatever reason. Within this memoir, Palmer also writes about how rape and sexual harassment have been parts of her life. Additionally, this book contains instances of ableism that can be difficult to read.
The presumed audience of this book includes readers who are socially conscious, or interested in topics like intersectional feminism, Disability Justice, and socialism. Palmer is a self-proclaimed socialist, unionist, and activist, and her passions for social justice are evident throughout the pages of Falling for Myself. As someone who is interested in these topics but had little knowledge about disabled experiences and Disability Justice before reading this book, I thoroughly enjoyed it and found myself learning a great deal while laughing along with Palmer’s sense of humour. As a disabled author writing about her personal experiences, Palmer’s tone may only be palatable to those who also have a certain distaste for social structures that oppress groups of people. The majority of the book is written with a humorous and somewhat snarky tone, which kept me turning the page. For some topics that elicit feelings of anger or frustration, Palmer’s tone changes to portray these emotions, and she even points this out to readers who may not immediately notice.
Palmer asserts that if readers are looking for an inspiring story about the disabled experience, they will not find it within her memoir. This is true. This book is not a story of inspiration porn. However, I felt deeply inspired by Palmer’s intersectional activism and desire for equity for all. Within this memoir, Palmer highlights the importance of including disabled people and their perspectives in discussions and movements regarding all issues in order to create intersectional activist movements that truly benefit all. This is a great book for readers who agree with the sentiment that all people deserve justice and equality, and who are interested in intersectional activism and Disability Justice.
March 21, 2020
Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s memoir “Falling for Myself” is an excruciatingly humorous journey self-acceptance. Blunt and to the point, Palmer isn’t afraid to get personal while confronting her internalized ableism and the fight she took to accepting and celebrating her disabled body. Palmer spent most of her life doing everything she could to “pass” as able bodied, which often meant suffering from both the external and internal pain of hiding her disability. “Passing” involves hiding your disability and living/appearing as able bodied. Many people who can “pass” do this in order to avoid the discrimination faced by disabled people, although in Palmer's story we see that you can only “pass” for so long until you have to confront who you are and what that means.
Palmer was adopted in the 1950’s, by a family who had been struggling to conceive a child of their own. She was born with less bones in her feet than typical, making walking more difficult and extremely painful at times. Her adoptive parents did not accept her for who she was and encouraged her to be someone she wasn’t. She endured numerous surgeries, abuse, and was forced to live and embody ableism in her youth. Palmer’s backstory as an adopted child seems to be another integral part of her identity and how she views herself. As a memoir, this is a deeply personal account of one women’s experience of discovering the disability community and finding, or falling for, herself.
A memoir makes the exploration of disability abundantly real and upfront in a refreshing way. Often, we see disability depicted in TV, movies and books through secondary characters by non-disabled writers. These depictions of disabled bodies are typically stereotypical, showing some common tropes of disability and not much beyond that. It is rare that a book/TV show/movie is performed or written by a disabled person, often making the depictions feel inauthentic. Palmer’s memoir on the other hand lives and breathes disability and is a kind of account that is relatable. I usually read fiction so the representations of disability I have read seem to be either non-existent or they feel as though they’ve been put in there just to have a box checked off. Reading about someone else’s life is oddly intimate and gave me the feeling that I was intruding on Palmer's personal space. This is one of the first books that has been assigned for a class that I felt genuinely interested and compelled to continue reading. This memoir made me feel so many feelings and I think that is the key to a good writer and story teller. I felt as though I was along for the ride with all of the ups and downs, the happy moments and the sorrow, the excitement and the fear.
As an English teacher, Palmer had the upper hand for writing and storytelling, although I think the most difficult part about writing this memoir would be digging up all these memories from the past. It is difficult to pinpoint the chosen audience for a memoir but I would think that Palmer’s intended audience is the disabled community, allies of the community, and anyone looking to educate themselves on living as a disabled person. Palmer explores the depths of her embedded ablest beliefs which followed her into adulthood as she sat silently in the face of disabled students who were discriminated against and taught literature that further pushed discrimination. At the depths of this was Palmer’s fear of being outed as a disabled person herself, something she had fought all her life to avoid. This is also a memoir about finding community and family. Palmer does a great job of showing how all aspects of life intersect with each other and meld together over time. She never assumes that others share the same experiences she does or that her experience as a disabled person is the same as another’s. She ends up fighting for what she believes in and doing what she can to support others on their journeys. Her story is one example of a disabled woman’s life experiences that can be used to inform how we live our own lives. Other people’s stories can be used as a tool to interpret our stories and I think that is the beauty of memoirs. Reading about someone’s life is kind of like having a friend who you continue to learn lessons from, even after you are no longer friends.
Palmer was adopted in the 1950’s, by a family who had been struggling to conceive a child of their own. She was born with less bones in her feet than typical, making walking more difficult and extremely painful at times. Her adoptive parents did not accept her for who she was and encouraged her to be someone she wasn’t. She endured numerous surgeries, abuse, and was forced to live and embody ableism in her youth. Palmer’s backstory as an adopted child seems to be another integral part of her identity and how she views herself. As a memoir, this is a deeply personal account of one women’s experience of discovering the disability community and finding, or falling for, herself.
A memoir makes the exploration of disability abundantly real and upfront in a refreshing way. Often, we see disability depicted in TV, movies and books through secondary characters by non-disabled writers. These depictions of disabled bodies are typically stereotypical, showing some common tropes of disability and not much beyond that. It is rare that a book/TV show/movie is performed or written by a disabled person, often making the depictions feel inauthentic. Palmer’s memoir on the other hand lives and breathes disability and is a kind of account that is relatable. I usually read fiction so the representations of disability I have read seem to be either non-existent or they feel as though they’ve been put in there just to have a box checked off. Reading about someone else’s life is oddly intimate and gave me the feeling that I was intruding on Palmer's personal space. This is one of the first books that has been assigned for a class that I felt genuinely interested and compelled to continue reading. This memoir made me feel so many feelings and I think that is the key to a good writer and story teller. I felt as though I was along for the ride with all of the ups and downs, the happy moments and the sorrow, the excitement and the fear.
As an English teacher, Palmer had the upper hand for writing and storytelling, although I think the most difficult part about writing this memoir would be digging up all these memories from the past. It is difficult to pinpoint the chosen audience for a memoir but I would think that Palmer’s intended audience is the disabled community, allies of the community, and anyone looking to educate themselves on living as a disabled person. Palmer explores the depths of her embedded ablest beliefs which followed her into adulthood as she sat silently in the face of disabled students who were discriminated against and taught literature that further pushed discrimination. At the depths of this was Palmer’s fear of being outed as a disabled person herself, something she had fought all her life to avoid. This is also a memoir about finding community and family. Palmer does a great job of showing how all aspects of life intersect with each other and meld together over time. She never assumes that others share the same experiences she does or that her experience as a disabled person is the same as another’s. She ends up fighting for what she believes in and doing what she can to support others on their journeys. Her story is one example of a disabled woman’s life experiences that can be used to inform how we live our own lives. Other people’s stories can be used as a tool to interpret our stories and I think that is the beauty of memoirs. Reading about someone’s life is kind of like having a friend who you continue to learn lessons from, even after you are no longer friends.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 15, 2021
“If you’re expecting an inspiring tale about the importance of getting back up, you’ll be disappointed” Dorothy Ellen Palmer’s Falling for Myself tells of her painstaking journey to self-acceptance and resilience. She takes the reader on a journey from A-Z through her adoption, abuse, erasure, and acceptance of her disability.
She provides a critique of how she has been viewed and treated because of her disability. From childhood she spoke about feeling like she was unwanted for being disabled and how it was that she needed to pass as ‘normal’ and ‘able bodied’. Palmer does not sugar coat her experience, nor does she try to make the reader comfortable with her hardships. She is blunt and upfront about what she has experienced, but she delivers the story with a side of comedy. She is not bitter; she is realistic, and she tells her truth.
Palmer explains her long struggle with internalized ableism and how ableism normalizes and rewards those who have socially accepted, ‘normal’ bodies and how it leaves no room for those who don’t. She points out every day struggles that she has, with tasks as simple as pumping gas. Tasks that abled bodied people would not think twice about. However, she does not do this for sympathy she does this for awareness. To raise her voice and keep taking up the space she deserves in the world.
Palmer doesn’t just stop at her experience as a disabled person but into the intersectionality of being a woman as well. She explores the different sexual assaults that she experienced and the struggle for doctors and friends to believe her. She tells a striking story of when she lost her virginity and had to convince the man she loved that she was, in fact, a virgin like she said she was. Palmer ridicules the concept and social importance of virginity and how the value of a young woman is tied so heavily to this myth. Beyond this she also explores how her disability was seen as feminine. Due to the fact that her feet were smaller than average, many people would compliment her and comment about jealousy because she was seen as ‘feminine’ and ‘delicate’. No one spoke about all of the issues and difficulties that the small feet had caused her in life. She points out as well, how disabled women are often left out of feminist movements, such as the Women’s March in 2017. Although she was able to attend, she noticed a lack of wheelchairs or visibly disabled women. Disabled women make up an important intersection of inequality and should not be erased from the feminist history.
This book comes to a close, not with a soft and inspirational message but rather with what she refers to as ‘coming out of the disabled closet’. It is about Palmer accepting herself as a disabled personal and not putting up with erasure. She makes it clear that she does not see disability as a bad thing, rather as something that makes her who she is. She criticizes the medical model of disability and how it assumes that there is something wrong with disabled people.
Her last chapter is a rally cry for change, it speaks to the idea of allyship and calls on the reader to do more. “If we want mass movement we must reach out beyond our 5 best friends” she claims, meaning that in order to create change we must interact with everyone in the community and not just those who are close to us. We must participate, we must demand the changes that we want to see and we must not stop demanding them until we get them. Palmer uses her experiences and her lessons not as a demand for sympathy or an excuse to do less, but rather as a journey so she can do more.
This book is exceptional and is truly a piece of disabled-feminist art. I think that everyone should read it in order to get an insight and better understanding of the experiences that disabled women face through different decades. Dorothy Ellen Palmer is a force of a women and one hell of a writer and I urge everyone to read this book. Read this book and then do something with the new knowledge that you gain. Get involved in different movements that support disabled people, speak out about feminist issues. This is a book you cannot just read and then do nothing. As Dorothy herself says: “if we act in our numbers, if we ally in our numbers, we cannot be ignored”.
She provides a critique of how she has been viewed and treated because of her disability. From childhood she spoke about feeling like she was unwanted for being disabled and how it was that she needed to pass as ‘normal’ and ‘able bodied’. Palmer does not sugar coat her experience, nor does she try to make the reader comfortable with her hardships. She is blunt and upfront about what she has experienced, but she delivers the story with a side of comedy. She is not bitter; she is realistic, and she tells her truth.
Palmer explains her long struggle with internalized ableism and how ableism normalizes and rewards those who have socially accepted, ‘normal’ bodies and how it leaves no room for those who don’t. She points out every day struggles that she has, with tasks as simple as pumping gas. Tasks that abled bodied people would not think twice about. However, she does not do this for sympathy she does this for awareness. To raise her voice and keep taking up the space she deserves in the world.
Palmer doesn’t just stop at her experience as a disabled person but into the intersectionality of being a woman as well. She explores the different sexual assaults that she experienced and the struggle for doctors and friends to believe her. She tells a striking story of when she lost her virginity and had to convince the man she loved that she was, in fact, a virgin like she said she was. Palmer ridicules the concept and social importance of virginity and how the value of a young woman is tied so heavily to this myth. Beyond this she also explores how her disability was seen as feminine. Due to the fact that her feet were smaller than average, many people would compliment her and comment about jealousy because she was seen as ‘feminine’ and ‘delicate’. No one spoke about all of the issues and difficulties that the small feet had caused her in life. She points out as well, how disabled women are often left out of feminist movements, such as the Women’s March in 2017. Although she was able to attend, she noticed a lack of wheelchairs or visibly disabled women. Disabled women make up an important intersection of inequality and should not be erased from the feminist history.
This book comes to a close, not with a soft and inspirational message but rather with what she refers to as ‘coming out of the disabled closet’. It is about Palmer accepting herself as a disabled personal and not putting up with erasure. She makes it clear that she does not see disability as a bad thing, rather as something that makes her who she is. She criticizes the medical model of disability and how it assumes that there is something wrong with disabled people.
Her last chapter is a rally cry for change, it speaks to the idea of allyship and calls on the reader to do more. “If we want mass movement we must reach out beyond our 5 best friends” she claims, meaning that in order to create change we must interact with everyone in the community and not just those who are close to us. We must participate, we must demand the changes that we want to see and we must not stop demanding them until we get them. Palmer uses her experiences and her lessons not as a demand for sympathy or an excuse to do less, but rather as a journey so she can do more.
This book is exceptional and is truly a piece of disabled-feminist art. I think that everyone should read it in order to get an insight and better understanding of the experiences that disabled women face through different decades. Dorothy Ellen Palmer is a force of a women and one hell of a writer and I urge everyone to read this book. Read this book and then do something with the new knowledge that you gain. Get involved in different movements that support disabled people, speak out about feminist issues. This is a book you cannot just read and then do nothing. As Dorothy herself says: “if we act in our numbers, if we ally in our numbers, we cannot be ignored”.
March 9, 2021
In her memoir, Falling for Myself, Dorothy Palmer shares her adventure in the pursuit of self-love and actualization. Shortly after Palmer was born, she was placed in state care and was eventually adopted. Growing up in Toronto, Canada, Palmer faced and overcame numerous obstacles resulting from her disability. Born with congenital abnormalities in both her feet, making it difficult and excruciatingly painful to walk, each day was a struggle. While many doctors and surgeries attempted to ease the pain, the disability progressed over time and Palmer became closely acquainted with Herkimer and Horatio, her feet.
In telling her story, Palmer begins by informing the reader of her close, personal relationship with the ground. As her feet were uncooperative, Palmer explains that she spent many moments face down. However, this is not her only instance of falling. As her memoir is properly named, Palmer recites the many times in which she fell – for her husband, her child, her career as an activist, teacher, and writer, and finally herself.
Having a disability does not define who a person is and what they can accomplish. Through her honest, snippy, and humorous writing style that makes you laugh and keeps you wanting more, this statement is proven true time and time again as Palmer takes us with her on her journey through the trials and triumphant moments of her life.
In addition, because Palmer identifies as a disabled individual and is a disability activist, disability tropes such as “overcoming” one’s disability and inspiration porn are not central aspects of her writing style in Falling for Myself; however, the issues surrounding these tropes are discussed. Moreover, in addition to the discussion of disability tropes seen in the media and literacy, common stereotypes surrounding disabilities and disabled individuals, such as the idea that “broken” bodies equal “broken” brains, are discussed and can be seen throughout the book as they were held by some members of her family and community. In this sense, the addition of and discussion surrounding these disability tropes and stereotypes is educational as it shows the reader just how easy it can be to think with an ablest mindset, especially when you do not know any different.
Being a memoir, this book has the power to accurately portray the lived experiences some disabled individuals have. Additionally, the vulnerability and rawness Palmer expresses throughout the telling of her story makes this work even more powerful as it places the reader in the mind of a disabled individual where they can experience even a fraction of what the author faced. While I believe this story is intended for adult audiences as it discusses some mature subjects, such as child abuse and sex, I believe this memoir is very eye-opening as it gives the reader, disabled or not, a glimpse into the lived experiences of a woman whose life was and continues to be greatly impacted by her disability. In saying this, I do not believe this book was written to draw pity from the readers but instead holds the power to change perspectives and give readers another viewpoint other than their own through which they can gain more knowledge of disabilities.
Overall, I greatly believe that Palmer’s memoir Falling for Myself is an important piece of disability literature. As disability literature is often pushed to the sidelines and can be flooded with disability tropes, having a memoir that does not sugar coat the reality (for some) of living with a disability is important. Moreover, as the story is personal and written in a way that invites the reader to experience Palmer’s journey with her, the lessons the reader learns from this story will last a lifetime.
As this is the first memoir I have read, I was unsure of what to expect; however, I am extremely pleased this story was my first experience with the genre. After reading this book and having some time to think and gather my thoughts, I believe that this book and Palmer’s story will stick with me.
In telling her story, Palmer begins by informing the reader of her close, personal relationship with the ground. As her feet were uncooperative, Palmer explains that she spent many moments face down. However, this is not her only instance of falling. As her memoir is properly named, Palmer recites the many times in which she fell – for her husband, her child, her career as an activist, teacher, and writer, and finally herself.
Having a disability does not define who a person is and what they can accomplish. Through her honest, snippy, and humorous writing style that makes you laugh and keeps you wanting more, this statement is proven true time and time again as Palmer takes us with her on her journey through the trials and triumphant moments of her life.
In addition, because Palmer identifies as a disabled individual and is a disability activist, disability tropes such as “overcoming” one’s disability and inspiration porn are not central aspects of her writing style in Falling for Myself; however, the issues surrounding these tropes are discussed. Moreover, in addition to the discussion of disability tropes seen in the media and literacy, common stereotypes surrounding disabilities and disabled individuals, such as the idea that “broken” bodies equal “broken” brains, are discussed and can be seen throughout the book as they were held by some members of her family and community. In this sense, the addition of and discussion surrounding these disability tropes and stereotypes is educational as it shows the reader just how easy it can be to think with an ablest mindset, especially when you do not know any different.
Being a memoir, this book has the power to accurately portray the lived experiences some disabled individuals have. Additionally, the vulnerability and rawness Palmer expresses throughout the telling of her story makes this work even more powerful as it places the reader in the mind of a disabled individual where they can experience even a fraction of what the author faced. While I believe this story is intended for adult audiences as it discusses some mature subjects, such as child abuse and sex, I believe this memoir is very eye-opening as it gives the reader, disabled or not, a glimpse into the lived experiences of a woman whose life was and continues to be greatly impacted by her disability. In saying this, I do not believe this book was written to draw pity from the readers but instead holds the power to change perspectives and give readers another viewpoint other than their own through which they can gain more knowledge of disabilities.
Overall, I greatly believe that Palmer’s memoir Falling for Myself is an important piece of disability literature. As disability literature is often pushed to the sidelines and can be flooded with disability tropes, having a memoir that does not sugar coat the reality (for some) of living with a disability is important. Moreover, as the story is personal and written in a way that invites the reader to experience Palmer’s journey with her, the lessons the reader learns from this story will last a lifetime.
As this is the first memoir I have read, I was unsure of what to expect; however, I am extremely pleased this story was my first experience with the genre. After reading this book and having some time to think and gather my thoughts, I believe that this book and Palmer’s story will stick with me.
March 14, 2021
Falling for Myself is a very funny yet sincere memoir written by disabled author, Dorothy Palmer. The title of the book is a perfect indication of what to expect when reading. A hilarious story telling that involves a lot of falling down. Palmer uses crip humour to describe her life and relationship with disability. She talks about her childhood, being an adopted child, the abuse she experienced, and how she tried hiding her disability for many years. She also discusses her journey to find her biological parents along with how she was able to find an accepting and beautiful family in the disabled community.
For many years she tried to hide her disability. However, she is now proud, standing with her walker and telling her story. Palmer was born with a disability that gave her very tiny feet. This meaning, she would fall down a lot. Although she jokes and uses humour to tell her story, she addresses some very important topics about disability. She explains that for a long time she refused a walker. She did not want to be seen as disabled, she tried to hide it. For years Palmer was a feminist teacher, mother, and activist for the disabled community, but still did not use a walker. However, after some pretty serious injuries, and many years of learning to love her body and truly accept herself, she sees the walker as an aid.
Palmer is not afraid to speak her mind or tell the scariest of secrets. She discusses sexual abuse and even goes as far to say “generarations of rapists have made excellent fathers”. She really leaves no stone unturned, by addressing Tiny Tim, a lot of falling down, adult diapers, the acceptance of a walker, and ableism. Not only does she discuss the ableism that she experienced, she also suggests ways to combat it. Importantly, she calls out the ableist institutions that she lived through in her childhood, like church, and schools. Not only is she very honest about her experiences with other people or institutions. She is also very open about herself. As mentioned above she discusses adult diapers. She is very open about the fact that she uses them. While explaining her use of diapers she is combating ageism and helping normalize things that make society uncomfortable.
Although Palmer’s story is a memoir about her life, I can also see that it is a story about self-acceptance and self-love after a life of hardship. Palmer describes her childhood, and how it was not the easiest environment to grow up in as a disabled person. She was born to a single mother who was not yet ready for children. However, the family that adopted her was not prepared for life with a disabled child either. She was adopted into a very traditional 1950s family where was encouraged to hide her disability. Which inevitably led to the idea of masking in adulthood. Palmer even recalls how she would get into trouble for falling down. Which as said in the book, happened a lot. At the very beginning of the book, she uses humour to retell the story of how she leaned too far over her adoptive fathers fish tank and accidentally dove in, not so gracefully. She got into trouble for this, even though it was not her fault, it was just her tiny feet.
I truly enjoyed Palmer’s way of story telling and her brilliant use of crip humour. Her use of humour makes it easier to discuss and listen to some of the more triggering events in her memoir. She somehow makes the reader feel comfortable when talking about very frightening and touchy subjects such as sexual abuse. As mentioned above, she is not afraid to call anyone or anything out. Her honesty mixed with witty sense of humour is what makes this memoir so enjoyable while getting important points about self acceptance, and ableism through to the audience. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who has relation to disability, or anyone who wants a good laugh while learning about ableism.
For many years she tried to hide her disability. However, she is now proud, standing with her walker and telling her story. Palmer was born with a disability that gave her very tiny feet. This meaning, she would fall down a lot. Although she jokes and uses humour to tell her story, she addresses some very important topics about disability. She explains that for a long time she refused a walker. She did not want to be seen as disabled, she tried to hide it. For years Palmer was a feminist teacher, mother, and activist for the disabled community, but still did not use a walker. However, after some pretty serious injuries, and many years of learning to love her body and truly accept herself, she sees the walker as an aid.
Palmer is not afraid to speak her mind or tell the scariest of secrets. She discusses sexual abuse and even goes as far to say “generarations of rapists have made excellent fathers”. She really leaves no stone unturned, by addressing Tiny Tim, a lot of falling down, adult diapers, the acceptance of a walker, and ableism. Not only does she discuss the ableism that she experienced, she also suggests ways to combat it. Importantly, she calls out the ableist institutions that she lived through in her childhood, like church, and schools. Not only is she very honest about her experiences with other people or institutions. She is also very open about herself. As mentioned above she discusses adult diapers. She is very open about the fact that she uses them. While explaining her use of diapers she is combating ageism and helping normalize things that make society uncomfortable.
Although Palmer’s story is a memoir about her life, I can also see that it is a story about self-acceptance and self-love after a life of hardship. Palmer describes her childhood, and how it was not the easiest environment to grow up in as a disabled person. She was born to a single mother who was not yet ready for children. However, the family that adopted her was not prepared for life with a disabled child either. She was adopted into a very traditional 1950s family where was encouraged to hide her disability. Which inevitably led to the idea of masking in adulthood. Palmer even recalls how she would get into trouble for falling down. Which as said in the book, happened a lot. At the very beginning of the book, she uses humour to retell the story of how she leaned too far over her adoptive fathers fish tank and accidentally dove in, not so gracefully. She got into trouble for this, even though it was not her fault, it was just her tiny feet.
I truly enjoyed Palmer’s way of story telling and her brilliant use of crip humour. Her use of humour makes it easier to discuss and listen to some of the more triggering events in her memoir. She somehow makes the reader feel comfortable when talking about very frightening and touchy subjects such as sexual abuse. As mentioned above, she is not afraid to call anyone or anything out. Her honesty mixed with witty sense of humour is what makes this memoir so enjoyable while getting important points about self acceptance, and ableism through to the audience. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who has relation to disability, or anyone who wants a good laugh while learning about ableism.
March 23, 2020
Falling for Myself was written by Dorothy Ellen Palmer, a disabled writer, teacher, activist, and mother, among other things, who resides in Ontario. Palmer writes to an audience of disabled people and allies who can either relate to or support her journey. This is not a book meant to educate people who know nothing about disability, but a book where Palmer shares the story of her heart and soul. Her assumed audience allows her to write about her disability with a candor that would not possible with—or might not be well-received by—another audience. Palmer’s book is an autobiography of sorts and thus the portrayal of her disability is complete with a rainbow of emotions. She discusses how being disabled can sometimes be a source of frustration, hardship, anger, and pain (physical and emotional), but shows that it can also be a source of identity, community, and belonging.
Palmer elegantly crafts a personal history that illustrates the complex feelings she has towards her disability. She explains negative experiences that have been enmeshed with her disability in her memory, such has her adoption. She recounts how her childhood experiences with religion once gave her negative connotations to which she attached her disability. As a child, religion taught her that disability should be healed, that having a disability was a burdensome, and that her disability was of no fault but her own. Furthermore, the manner in which Palmer relates to disability is influenced by how disability is presented through tropes in the media that was available to her as a child. She discusses how tropes have impacted her life, both through society’s ableism and the internalized ableism with which she struggled as she became more and more disabled over the course of her life. She talks about the role of the Tiny Tim trope in her life, specifically how it portrays disabled people as being in desperate need of charity and engages with the trope critically in her text. She also provides an eloquently articulated critique of the trope of overcoming disability, the “supercrip” trope, and the use of inspiration porn, and more in her analysis of ableism informed by her life experiences. Looking back, Palmer recalls how harmful these representations were to her sense of self and looks at today’s society in which ableist ideologies and systems continue to exist without being held accountable for the harm they bestow upon the disabled community.
As Palmer grew older and learned that disability was, in fact, not a negative trait, she began exploring the language around disability, the reclaiming of words like “crip,” and the implications this has for disabled people. Palmer continuously alludes to the adverse impacts of shame and stigma in her own life as well as in other disabled people’s lives. Her book covers the ableist ideologies that infiltrate every system in society, thus resulting in various forms of oppression. Among these are the ideologies of cure and eugenics, which Palmer explores in relation to her experiences with family, adoption, and religion. She draws from personal experience to discuss how disabled people are consistently infantilized and treated as inferior in social and institutional settings, such as when doctors or family members take on choices surrounding their medical care (choices that disabled people can make for themselves). She critiques how so-called allies have repeatedly steered the narrative away from disabled people; instead, these so-called allies advocate for things disabled people neither need nor want, and then pat themselves on the back for a job well done, like what happened with the rhetoric around person-first language.
I enjoyed reading Palmer’s book, which was a beautifully constructed account of her individual experience with disability. She speaks with specificity to her own disability, but also with a relatability that allows readers to connect with her story. Her book was funny, sad, and aggravating. It was refreshing to read a book by a disabled writer where disability was not sugar-coated, bent to suit the whims of able-bodied people, or subjected to myriad tropes and one-liners. Since I have chronic migraines, and chronic pain is part of Palmer’s experience with disability, her stories of pain resonated with me. Despite how different our disabilities may be, mine invisible and hers becoming more visible with time, I was able to relate to how pain permeates every aspect of her life. This is a book I would recommend to my disabled friends and anyone I know who is trying to be a better ally to disabled people.
Palmer elegantly crafts a personal history that illustrates the complex feelings she has towards her disability. She explains negative experiences that have been enmeshed with her disability in her memory, such has her adoption. She recounts how her childhood experiences with religion once gave her negative connotations to which she attached her disability. As a child, religion taught her that disability should be healed, that having a disability was a burdensome, and that her disability was of no fault but her own. Furthermore, the manner in which Palmer relates to disability is influenced by how disability is presented through tropes in the media that was available to her as a child. She discusses how tropes have impacted her life, both through society’s ableism and the internalized ableism with which she struggled as she became more and more disabled over the course of her life. She talks about the role of the Tiny Tim trope in her life, specifically how it portrays disabled people as being in desperate need of charity and engages with the trope critically in her text. She also provides an eloquently articulated critique of the trope of overcoming disability, the “supercrip” trope, and the use of inspiration porn, and more in her analysis of ableism informed by her life experiences. Looking back, Palmer recalls how harmful these representations were to her sense of self and looks at today’s society in which ableist ideologies and systems continue to exist without being held accountable for the harm they bestow upon the disabled community.
As Palmer grew older and learned that disability was, in fact, not a negative trait, she began exploring the language around disability, the reclaiming of words like “crip,” and the implications this has for disabled people. Palmer continuously alludes to the adverse impacts of shame and stigma in her own life as well as in other disabled people’s lives. Her book covers the ableist ideologies that infiltrate every system in society, thus resulting in various forms of oppression. Among these are the ideologies of cure and eugenics, which Palmer explores in relation to her experiences with family, adoption, and religion. She draws from personal experience to discuss how disabled people are consistently infantilized and treated as inferior in social and institutional settings, such as when doctors or family members take on choices surrounding their medical care (choices that disabled people can make for themselves). She critiques how so-called allies have repeatedly steered the narrative away from disabled people; instead, these so-called allies advocate for things disabled people neither need nor want, and then pat themselves on the back for a job well done, like what happened with the rhetoric around person-first language.
I enjoyed reading Palmer’s book, which was a beautifully constructed account of her individual experience with disability. She speaks with specificity to her own disability, but also with a relatability that allows readers to connect with her story. Her book was funny, sad, and aggravating. It was refreshing to read a book by a disabled writer where disability was not sugar-coated, bent to suit the whims of able-bodied people, or subjected to myriad tropes and one-liners. Since I have chronic migraines, and chronic pain is part of Palmer’s experience with disability, her stories of pain resonated with me. Despite how different our disabilities may be, mine invisible and hers becoming more visible with time, I was able to relate to how pain permeates every aspect of her life. This is a book I would recommend to my disabled friends and anyone I know who is trying to be a better ally to disabled people.
March 12, 2021
It is often easy to forget the thoughts that passed through our heads as we grew from young children into adolescents and then adults. Our understanding of the world before what can only be called the “cultural frame” of society began to structure our consciousness into something unrecognizable by our childhood selves. The questions we once asked, which were often answered crudely by those around us or our experiences, soon shaped our understandings. Dorothy Palmer, in her memoir “Falling for Myself,” revisits the realm of childhood unknowns, which work to frame how she views the world around her, and how the world, in turn, views her. Palmer eloquently, and with unapologetic honesty, introduces readers to her complex life, riddled with intersectionality as a disabled, adopted, white woman, growing up in Post War Ontario. If you consider yourself a dreamer and are seeking to disrupt and confront your paradigm of thought and believe in an attainable utopia of equality and equity, this memoir is for you. If you consider yourself pragmatic and incapable of viewing the world in a different light, then do not read this memoir. And yes, that is a challenge.
By using acute wit and humour, Palmer introduces readers to many serious topics by sharing her complex and intricate existence. She explores her difficult relationship with her adoptive mother who seemed to prioritize her birth children over her adopted, disabled one, and who sought to “fix” her adopted daughter by any means. She explains the journey to find her birth mother, a long and excruciating battle, which resulted in many answered questions, an explanation to her tiny hands and her artistic drives. She tells readers of a near-absent adopted father, and a birth father she never got to meet. Palmer converges typical feelings of adoptees of rejection, with another layer of complexity, disability. Palmer introduces her readers to the concept inspiration-porn and confronts ableism with her provocative approach to explaining disability via a message of her mother figure, Stella, a friend and disabled woman half her age. The message to readers is clear, people with disabilities are not martyrs who exist in order to galvanize able bodied people. They are simply people, existing in a society which seeks to exclude them at every opportunity. Palmer also delves into her white privilege, an interesting intersection, considering Palmer’s societal exclusion, she still did possess some inherent privileges. Palmer held a position as a marginalized and yet, privileged person, she also existed as a female in a patriarchal society. Not only did she wear special shoes for her feet which do not fit in everyday shoes, she also wore the trousers, at a time when women were expected to wear skirts. Her feminist activism began early, but she found that even the women’s movement, like many social structures, radiated an aura of elitism and inaccessibility.
With unrepentant candor, time and time again, Palmer reminds readers that the pen is indeed mighty. Her memoir has the ability to transform thoughts and attitudes of readers. It is not meant only to be read by members of the disabled community, but readers outside the community as well. The message within her text is vast, it could say to readers anything from “you are not alone,” to “see me, see us.” For me, an able-bodied person who has a keen drive for social justice, the memoir has left a lasting impression. It says to me, “do more.”
By using acute wit and humour, Palmer introduces readers to many serious topics by sharing her complex and intricate existence. She explores her difficult relationship with her adoptive mother who seemed to prioritize her birth children over her adopted, disabled one, and who sought to “fix” her adopted daughter by any means. She explains the journey to find her birth mother, a long and excruciating battle, which resulted in many answered questions, an explanation to her tiny hands and her artistic drives. She tells readers of a near-absent adopted father, and a birth father she never got to meet. Palmer converges typical feelings of adoptees of rejection, with another layer of complexity, disability. Palmer introduces her readers to the concept inspiration-porn and confronts ableism with her provocative approach to explaining disability via a message of her mother figure, Stella, a friend and disabled woman half her age. The message to readers is clear, people with disabilities are not martyrs who exist in order to galvanize able bodied people. They are simply people, existing in a society which seeks to exclude them at every opportunity. Palmer also delves into her white privilege, an interesting intersection, considering Palmer’s societal exclusion, she still did possess some inherent privileges. Palmer held a position as a marginalized and yet, privileged person, she also existed as a female in a patriarchal society. Not only did she wear special shoes for her feet which do not fit in everyday shoes, she also wore the trousers, at a time when women were expected to wear skirts. Her feminist activism began early, but she found that even the women’s movement, like many social structures, radiated an aura of elitism and inaccessibility.
With unrepentant candor, time and time again, Palmer reminds readers that the pen is indeed mighty. Her memoir has the ability to transform thoughts and attitudes of readers. It is not meant only to be read by members of the disabled community, but readers outside the community as well. The message within her text is vast, it could say to readers anything from “you are not alone,” to “see me, see us.” For me, an able-bodied person who has a keen drive for social justice, the memoir has left a lasting impression. It says to me, “do more.”
January 1, 2021
I am so glad this is the last book I read this year because it has opened up a new genre of books that I want to continue reading and learning more about in 2021, that is books about and by disabled people.
Palmer connects so many dots in my understanding of intersectionality with critiques of ableism, ageism, and capitalism. I’ve done a lot of reading on sexism and racism, but knew little about ableism and ageism aside from the fact that they exist and that I exist in them as a person of privilege. This book makes you realize what you take for granted as an abled person. It also exposed me to the discrimination and bigotry disabled people experience for simply just existing, and when they are fighting to be valued and seen as human beings in society.
I made so many highlights in my ebook of phrases, sentences, and ideas that I wanted to remember. One of my favourite passages is from the chapter: On Original Numbers and Odds in Our Favour.
“Imagine a world where we are all seen in our numbers. Where we all have books, movies, theatre, dance and art that rejects the stereotypes of aging, and the ableist tropes of triumph, cure or death. We’ll all be enriched by arts that showcase authentically complex disabled and senior characters with struggles, lives and loves of their own. We all deserve to see seniors and disabled people earn space, employment, funding and respect supported by senior and disabled employers and mentors. We’ll all benefit when younger abled artists consult seniors and disabled people, pay for their expertise and do the honest hard work of research and empathy to include our perspectives. We’ll all be happier when we get to create in our bodies, as ourselves.”
Reading this book was a whole experience of questioning and critiquing my ableism and abled self. Going forward I want to consciously think about the words I’m using, and refrain from using words and phrases like “lame” and “crazy,” and “blind” and “deaf” in the wrong contexts. I want to remember to ask a disabled person for consent if they want me to help them and how I can best do it. And I will not attend any literary events that are inaccessible. Palmer gives us concrete examples of things we can do everyday to combat ableism and ageism, I strongly recommend reading this book to everyone who has limited or no knowledge of ableism, and for everyone who is dedicated to creating a more inclusive world for all people.
Palmer connects so many dots in my understanding of intersectionality with critiques of ableism, ageism, and capitalism. I’ve done a lot of reading on sexism and racism, but knew little about ableism and ageism aside from the fact that they exist and that I exist in them as a person of privilege. This book makes you realize what you take for granted as an abled person. It also exposed me to the discrimination and bigotry disabled people experience for simply just existing, and when they are fighting to be valued and seen as human beings in society.
I made so many highlights in my ebook of phrases, sentences, and ideas that I wanted to remember. One of my favourite passages is from the chapter: On Original Numbers and Odds in Our Favour.
“Imagine a world where we are all seen in our numbers. Where we all have books, movies, theatre, dance and art that rejects the stereotypes of aging, and the ableist tropes of triumph, cure or death. We’ll all be enriched by arts that showcase authentically complex disabled and senior characters with struggles, lives and loves of their own. We all deserve to see seniors and disabled people earn space, employment, funding and respect supported by senior and disabled employers and mentors. We’ll all benefit when younger abled artists consult seniors and disabled people, pay for their expertise and do the honest hard work of research and empathy to include our perspectives. We’ll all be happier when we get to create in our bodies, as ourselves.”
Reading this book was a whole experience of questioning and critiquing my ableism and abled self. Going forward I want to consciously think about the words I’m using, and refrain from using words and phrases like “lame” and “crazy,” and “blind” and “deaf” in the wrong contexts. I want to remember to ask a disabled person for consent if they want me to help them and how I can best do it. And I will not attend any literary events that are inaccessible. Palmer gives us concrete examples of things we can do everyday to combat ableism and ageism, I strongly recommend reading this book to everyone who has limited or no knowledge of ableism, and for everyone who is dedicated to creating a more inclusive world for all people.
March 11, 2021
Dorothy Palmer, a disabled feminist teacher, mom, improv coach, and unionist, born with a congenital birth defect affecting her feet and was adopted at the age of three. Palmers writing illustrates a very personal lens, reflecting on her experiences being a disabled women which allows readers to understand her appreciation for her disability. The objective of this book is not to be viewed as ‘inspiration porn’ the author is not looking for the readers pity, the authors motives is for individuals to examine their own stories, and to check in on their privilege and ableism status. Palmers vulnerability has been poured into the book, being vulnerable can lead to a lot of worries and rejection when you are seen as a minority in society. However, the way Dorothy Palmer shares her vulnerability shows how resilient and proud she is to be a disabled women. The book speaks about disability as a gift, “We all have one true gift to offer the world, and now you know mine: I fall down”. Palmer associates disability with confidence and showing disabled persons the importance to be self-assertive when it comes to living with a disability. Palmer did not just miraculously wake up and have confidence, this grew through lived experiences. Throughout her childhood, she hid her disability, impersonating an able body with an immense amount of pain doing so as she feared rejection by her peers. Chapter 3, Palmer (2019) shares vulnerable experiences that happened in the authors early years. Palmer suffered from pleurisy, an infection within the lining of the lungs, affecting her left lung more where the virus spread to her ear and she permanently lost hearing in her left ear. Palmers family had strong intentions to provide her with specialists and resources so she could be “fixed”. Chapter 18 further portrays the reality of ableism for disabled individuals, Society inevitably fears ageing, there is an attached idea that one lacks independence as they age since society values dependence. Palmer explains the duo of grey hair and the need of a walker creating profound changes in the way the world viewed and treated her. As an able-bodied person after reading the book, Palmers experiences has helped me further understand just how deeply Ableism paints non-able bodies life experiences. It made me become more aware of my privilege and just how much I take advantage of being an able-bodied person.
August 2, 2020
Such an important book! This is a book about disability and how the author combats her own internalized ableism as well as ableism everywhere in society, and how her experience with disability also intersects with so many other aspects of the author's life, from being adopted (born a "bastard"), infant sexual abuse, the victim of an unenforced family law support order and thus living in poverty, becoming overweight (because healthy food is more expensive), and getting older / experiencing discrimination against seniors. She had a career as a teacher and as a union leader, and only after her she had retired from teaching did she became a disability activist. Her writing continues to teach, as I learned so much from this book! I highly recommend that as many people as possible read this book, although it is not always a comfortable read. She does enjoy word-play, and her choice of words is sometimes both serious and humorous, reinforcing how important word-choice is, revealing our world view about ableism and other things. For example, the title "Falling for Myself", and the reclaiming of the alphabet for her 26 chapters in alphabetical order (you will have to read the book to discover the significance of the alphabet in her life). I am very interested in DNA genetic genealogy, so I am very glad she had hers done and found some blood relatives (other than her own children). This is the best kind of memoir, that tells her personal story but also takes the reader to so many deeper universal truths. As she says at the end: "I love the word recollection. To remember. To recollect. Reorder, redefine, re-empower". Thank you Dorothy Ellen Palmer for having the courage to tell us your story, and I do hope that the telling has re-empowered you, and I hope that as many people as possible are buying and reading your book!
December 1, 2022
A powerful memoir calling out ableism that will break hearts, demand change and challenge beliefs. Reading this amplified and was amplified by a diversity, equity and inclusion calendar I've been going through from work this month.
Here are a few quotes I found particularly meaningful:
"A life in pain is both delicate and resilient. In all its shrivelling person loss, I have found collective joy. I long to show you the extraordinary ordinariness of my life."
A "deep-seated belief that our human rights are both charity and a choice underpins and perpetuates abled privilege."
"Imagine a world where we are all seen in our numbers. Where we all have books, movies, theatre, dance and art that rejects the stereotypes of aging, and the ableist tropes of triumph, cure or death. We’ll all be enriched by arts that showcase authentically complex disabled and senior characters with struggles, lives and loves of their own. We all deserve to see seniors and disabled people earn space, employment, funding and respect supported by senior and disabled employers and mentors. We’ll all benefit when younger abled artists consult seniors and disabled people, pay for their expertise and do the honest, hard work of research and empathy to include our perspectives. We’ll all be happier when we get to create in our bodies, as ourselves."
"When human value does not depend on the ability to produce, to labour and consume, everybody belongs. Nobody, and no body, gets left behind."
Here are a few quotes I found particularly meaningful:
"A life in pain is both delicate and resilient. In all its shrivelling person loss, I have found collective joy. I long to show you the extraordinary ordinariness of my life."
A "deep-seated belief that our human rights are both charity and a choice underpins and perpetuates abled privilege."
"Imagine a world where we are all seen in our numbers. Where we all have books, movies, theatre, dance and art that rejects the stereotypes of aging, and the ableist tropes of triumph, cure or death. We’ll all be enriched by arts that showcase authentically complex disabled and senior characters with struggles, lives and loves of their own. We all deserve to see seniors and disabled people earn space, employment, funding and respect supported by senior and disabled employers and mentors. We’ll all benefit when younger abled artists consult seniors and disabled people, pay for their expertise and do the honest, hard work of research and empathy to include our perspectives. We’ll all be happier when we get to create in our bodies, as ourselves."
"When human value does not depend on the ability to produce, to labour and consume, everybody belongs. Nobody, and no body, gets left behind."
July 30, 2020
Wow! This book is an eye-opening read. Part biography and part call to action/awareness.
The biography aspect of the book was hard to read. She is brutally honest and the story is so sad. Childhood trauma galore here as an adopted, disabled kid in a family that goes on to have their own biological children. She tried for a good part of her life to be "normal" to minimize the amount of bullying at school and to be less work for her family.
I am guilty of falling for what she calls "Inspiration Porn". She says "Exactly how is a passive, immobilized child in pain inspiring? How is illness, injury or the spectre of imminent death inspiring? They aren't. These children are on display as objects of pity. When big-hearted, healthy, abled you clicks on an emoji to say you love them, it's not about them; it's about you. You love how they make you feel. Relieved. Separated. Grateful not to be them." I had no idea that Canada imported disabled children (orphaned or not) to work as servants to Canadian farmers and factory owners! The entire "V is for Victory and for Venom" chapter made me stop and pause. I literally could not pick this book up for a few days after reading it.
She is angry, and for good reason. Her mission is to call out ableism as clearly as possible. She was definitely successful in making me aware of my own ableism.
The biography aspect of the book was hard to read. She is brutally honest and the story is so sad. Childhood trauma galore here as an adopted, disabled kid in a family that goes on to have their own biological children. She tried for a good part of her life to be "normal" to minimize the amount of bullying at school and to be less work for her family.
I am guilty of falling for what she calls "Inspiration Porn". She says "Exactly how is a passive, immobilized child in pain inspiring? How is illness, injury or the spectre of imminent death inspiring? They aren't. These children are on display as objects of pity. When big-hearted, healthy, abled you clicks on an emoji to say you love them, it's not about them; it's about you. You love how they make you feel. Relieved. Separated. Grateful not to be them." I had no idea that Canada imported disabled children (orphaned or not) to work as servants to Canadian farmers and factory owners! The entire "V is for Victory and for Venom" chapter made me stop and pause. I literally could not pick this book up for a few days after reading it.
She is angry, and for good reason. Her mission is to call out ableism as clearly as possible. She was definitely successful in making me aware of my own ableism.
December 28, 2020
As the reviewers on the back of the book say “searing, unflinching, brutally honest.” This book is all that and more. Palmer herself says “having experienced childhood slurs as snakebites, as an adult I carry an accumulation of venom.” And that is exactly how I experienced this book. As a white, middle-aged, abled, capitalist, I felt called out at every turn of the page. I felt Palmer’s anger, her anguish, and her activism.
Disability Justice was a new term for me. I suspect Dorothy would not be surprised by that - aren’t the large majority of white, abled capitalists un-woke? Hm. Inspiration porn had me fist pumping - my non-profit experience with toxic charity around homelessness and poverty is one place of intersectionality.
And though her harsh judgments rubbed me like sandpaper, I loved her wit and the way she wields her pen. I admire her intestinal fortitude in continuing to search for belonging through the search for her biological roots. Perhaps the chapter on the uncinching of adoption privacy laws had me nodding the most.
Thank you Dorothy for this uncomfortable book. I’ll say here the same thing I wrote on my sign at my very first protest march this summer - a BLM gathering during the pandemic - “I’m still learning.” I suspect your abrasiveness may not win friends, but perhaps it will influence some transformation.
April 23, 2021
How to review this book? I was very much looking forward to reading about this authors life and struggles. I think it’s important for myself to read about and from others perspectives and experiences. I strive to gain understanding of others and enjoy the first hand and often vulnerability in reading such stories.
I think the author has a good writing style and conveyed her life in an interesting and readable manner. I never bored of those parts of the book.
I am happy to also report that I learned and gained insight to things I had not considered. I am hopeful to also draw some attention of my own to these issues.
However, I am sad to say I almost didn’t finish the book. Halfway through I found the author to be more of an angry advocate where there was no solution. I’m glad I stuck it out though as I did enjoy the ending and appreciate the new outlook I’ve gained since reading it. I hope she sees much success from her book and am wouldn’t be surprised to come across her as we are in the same city.
She has slowly chipped away at the lack of seniors/ disabled content available out there by sharing her story.
I think the author has a good writing style and conveyed her life in an interesting and readable manner. I never bored of those parts of the book.
I am happy to also report that I learned and gained insight to things I had not considered. I am hopeful to also draw some attention of my own to these issues.
However, I am sad to say I almost didn’t finish the book. Halfway through I found the author to be more of an angry advocate where there was no solution. I’m glad I stuck it out though as I did enjoy the ending and appreciate the new outlook I’ve gained since reading it. I hope she sees much success from her book and am wouldn’t be surprised to come across her as we are in the same city.
She has slowly chipped away at the lack of seniors/ disabled content available out there by sharing her story.
July 27, 2020
My friend Jael said recently that some books change you, stay with you and change your world. This book is one of those books. Falling for myself is a memoir by a woman born with foot deformities, which made it very difficult to walk. She was constantly set back by disability, but was a teacher and union activist, and hard core activist. She was also adopted, and that early upbringing is very painful to read.
The memoir is interspersed with bits of Dorothy's life, interspersed with some thoughts about disability, ableism, accessibility and the ways we overlook our seniors, our disabled people and our people with mobility needs.
After reading this book, I couldn't help noticing all the ableist around me, including my own. I didn't agree with all of Dorothy perspectives' but I did learn A LOT from this book.
The memoir is interspersed with bits of Dorothy's life, interspersed with some thoughts about disability, ableism, accessibility and the ways we overlook our seniors, our disabled people and our people with mobility needs.
After reading this book, I couldn't help noticing all the ableist around me, including my own. I didn't agree with all of Dorothy perspectives' but I did learn A LOT from this book.
August 18, 2020
This is a kind of book that you will remember long after finishing it because of all the awareness that it raises in us. The instances where people feel entitled to steal parking spots designated for the handicapped; that they feel entitled to swear at them and call them names are greater in number than we realize. While all of us growing up were picked on for one thing or another: a big nose, bow legs, frizzy hair, whatever, the tortures this poor young woman went through heartbreaking.
And none of us can be smug! As she points out that 25% of the population, (the disabled and seniors with limited mobility combined) will be have the same limited accessibility issues that she faces daily.
We need to work together not an Us and Them but as a We.
And none of us can be smug! As she points out that 25% of the population, (the disabled and seniors with limited mobility combined) will be have the same limited accessibility issues that she faces daily.
We need to work together not an Us and Them but as a We.
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