It's Not About the Door

"Why not make someone's life easier? "

"Usurping my independence!"

"Do you know how heavy some doors are?"

"I don't get the door thing. I open doors for people when I can, they open them for me; what's the big deal?"

Dianne told a story of her own:
An older man and a young woman were both approaching the building door. The man holds the door open for the woman. She immediately starts reading him the riot act about acting patronizing to a woman. The man stood quietly while she ranted on. When she finally ran down, the man said simply, "Ma'am, I didn't open the door for you because you are a woman. I opened the door because I am a gentleman."

Behind the story is the issue of intent. It was irrelevant to him if she could open the door herself. What mattered to him was the social convention of courtesy. He was making no judgment or comment about the young woman. He was just polite. Opening the door was not about her, it was about him.

Wouldn't it be nice if all our interactions were based on mutual respect. Now, to be fair, when a disability is involved, there may be other issues. We're often told to try harder if we cannot quite do it the first time. The more doors we can open, the longer we will still be able to open doors. There is also the issue of balance and awkwardness. To be helped in the middle of trying is often more dangerous than it is helpful.

There is no one answer that works all the time. Julianne said: "Let's all give ourselves some room to be people...nobody is either perfectly patient or unrelentingly 'mean.'"

It's not really about the door you know. Doors are a valid controversy, but they are symbolic of a bigger issue.

A door represents independence for those of us who can open it, and a feeling of helplessness for those of us who cannot. Opening a door can be a small triumph in a day filled with obstacles. Help with a door can be a measure of kindness or courtesy, or it can simply be patronizing. Helping to open a door epitomizes the perception of able-bodied people toward a stranger with a crutch or in a wheelchair. A door opened for us reminds us of the abilities we once had but lost, or maybe never had at all.

A door may be an obstacle to the world, a roadblock between us and all those wondrous things behind the door not easily accessible. The next door you see may be the door to opportunity. Even if someone helps you open it, what really matters is what you do on the other side.

Picture Credit (I think most of us would appreciate help with this one): détail de l'entrée de notre dame de beauvoir by Paul Munthoven; GNU Free Documentation license