Being a Disabled Aerialist Pt. 2
This is part two in an ongoing series of thought about disability and circus. Part one can be found here.
Part Two: Circus and the Suspension of the Impossible
Circus as an artistic medium has always relied on the suspension of disbelief, even from its earliest days. Disability and circus have always been intrinsically linked as well, with the simultaneous “Freak show” exhibits that went along with the “Death defying” and “impossible” stunts. Circus was one of the few places where disabled people could earn a living and exist as fairly autonomous people (even if they were still somewhat relegated to a status of second class citizenship within a travelling circus). Disabled circus performers were certainly better off than disabled people who weren’t otherwise able to work or provide for themselves. Especially in a time of poor houses and paternalistic models of charity that were associated with disabled people that still prevail in many forms of how disability is handled today (Think of all of the rules around social assistance as opposed to working from a minimum guaranteed income model).
But the best part about watching circus as an audience member is getting to engage in that perpetual state of a suspension of disbelief. Where the impossible seems to happen right before your eyes. Where people fly, and have stunning drops, or twists and turns and you don’t have any sense of how they are managing to do what they are doing even though it’s happening right before your eyes. They are able to make the work appear effortless. My favourite routines are the ones that force me to turn off my circus brain when I watch them and just focus on what is happening right in front of me. To just be in that moment with the performer instead of trying to reverse engineer what just happened in front of me. Once you have the insider knowledge it becomes harder for people to shake you out of that space of reverse engineering and purely into a state of experiencing. The typical limitations on the human form seem optional, and it can be awe-inspiring whether you understand the background mechanics of it or not.
As a disabled person, you are altogether too aware of the physical limitations of the human form. It is almost impossible to escape the realities of living in a body that has limitations. Particularly when the continued expectation is to perform to expectations that you do not have the capability of fulfilling. It can become almost intolerable to exist in a place where you feel like you are continually failing to meet the minimum standards of what a person should be capable of doing. it is overwhelming when that is your reality every single day. When walking can be a challenge, being able to fly and glide is a fantastic idea to hold onto to be able to escape from the oppressive reality of that for awhile. To in fact be able to achieve it yourself carries an almost dream like quality of unreality.
And in fact, I think in part that is what makes circus a space that I am so passionate about. I love the feeling of endless possibility that stretches out before me with an apparatus in my hand. That there is a space where I get to experience my own body as strong, as reliable, as dependable. That there is a space where my body is making an impact on people not because of what it can’t do, but instead because of how my body bends their own conception of what is possible. What does it mean that on a day when walking is exhausting I can save up my energy from that whole day, to express it in joyful moments navigating my way through the air? Experiencing circus as opening up possibilities in my body that don’t exist outside of that space. How does a body that can have such a difficult time navigating everyday life fly? How does it escape gravity when existing within it can seem so difficult?
And ultimately, that is why circus and disability can make such a magical match if people let them. Because we’re continually doing the impossible in circus. We are continually looking for ways to provoke the appearance of shedding the limitations of our human forms. We are constantly looking for creativity and new ways of expanding capabilities. So, it can be a space where disability needs to be accounted for, but is also highly irrelevant (to the end goals of circus, not to the gritty details of getting there). What does your ability to walk matter, if you’re able to fly? Circus exists in the space where bodies are capable of doing the impossible and are capable of overcoming limitations. While the limitations placed upon a body by disability are different than limitations of things such as gravity and corporeal forms, the spirit of finding ways around those limitations rings true within circus no matter what you bring to it. The space for innovation and creativity and problem solving is endless. That there is a spirit of embracing the impossible and bringing it to fruition.
As someone with multiple disabilities, circus for me is a medium where I get to do the impossible and experience it with my own body. It’s a place that challenges me to develop a new relationship and experience with my body. It’s a place that is free of the rules and the fighting that permeates every other space I attempt to gain access to. At least in some fairly significant ways. Some of the rules and the fights that do very much exist in circus for disabled people will be addressed in later posts in the series. But it’s important to understand why disability and circus work so well together and are so important to each other so that we don’t get overwhelmed in the face of the current issues and decide that it isn’t worth pursing at all. Ultimately there is freedom and possibility and suspension of disbelief that doesn’t exist in other spaces in my life. That even though there might be extra creativity, or time or problem solving required to be able to make the impossible, possible for aerialists with disabilities, we can experience that impossibility just as much as anyone else can. We can convince an audience to suspend their disbelief just as much as anyone else can. Maybe even more so as we work together to experience the wonder and pure joy of being able to do something that our bodies frequently and painfully remind us of not being able to do.
