Taxi Rides, Disability, and Unexpected Grace

I had an unexpected and beautiful encounter with my cab driver today in Toronto. He called me because he was having difficulty stopping at my location, and he asked if I could walk to another place nearby. I nervously replied that I couldn’t because of my disability. (My hips and back were aching, making walking difficult.) Rather than being annoyed, he was instantly understanding and said he would come right to my spot.

It was, indeed, not a great stop because it was so close to a ramp to the Don Valley Parkway. As he pulled over, a large truck behind him honked angrily. He got out of his car to help me with my luggage, and shouted at the truck drivers, “She has a disability!” (Had I been a turtle in that moment, my head would have retracted into my shell.) He motioned for them to roll down their window, and told them that he had to stop there in order to accommodate me.

I felt nervous and sheepish. Was his shouting at them a sign that he was annoyed with me? I got into the cab, offered my apologies for the trouble, and settled in for the drive.

After a couple of minutes, he said to me, “Can I ask you a question?” I braced myself to be asked why I didn’t have some sort of mobility device with me to signal that I was disabled. Instead, he opened up and told me that his younger brother in his native country had a cognitive disability and needed a lot of care. He was working as hard as he could to bring his brother over to Canada. “I want to have him with me for the rest of my life,” he said, with conviction in his voice.

He asked me what sort of supports, if any, were available in Ontario for people with disabilities. I told him that although the system was far from perfect, there were many supports. I explained a bit about ODSP and the medical process to get it, some social services for people with different challenges, and so on. I added in that the process to attain those supports would take longer for someone immigrating to Canada, and we talked about the steps he himself had taken to come here. I was taken aback when he said that he was so thankful to have me as a rider, because he didn’t know anyone to talk to about his situation, and he desperately wanted to provide the best care for his brother. He found it more helpful, he said, to speak with people who had personal experience navigating the system, rather than only talking with people in bureaucracy. He said that I had given him more hope for the future, because now he knew that there were resources available to help his brother.

I asked him a bit about his brother, and he explained the challenges that the young man faced. He said that everyone needs a reason to live for, and a major reason for him was his relationship with his brother. He first emphasized the importance of duty to one’s family. Then, he went on to talk about how, when we sacrifice out of love for others, our lives paradoxically becomes enriched rather than diminished. I was so encouraged by his love for his brother, and told him a bit about my own younger brother and his complex medical needs. (My brother has faced massive challenges throughout his entire life, and yet has the most joyful spirit of anyone I know.) The driver and I talked about how everyone benefits when we work to build a more inclusive society for people of all abilities.

Our culture frequently criticizes toxic expressions of masculinity, and those expressions certainly exist. I think we also need to remember, though, that if toxic masculinity is so ugly and repulsive, that simply shows that authentic masculinity is supposed to be beautiful and inspiring. I saw that expression of true masculinity in my driver today. He was willing to firmly stand up for my need for accessibility, even though it irritated people around him. He was committed to loving the most vulnerable people in his life, and he perceived the mystery that it is in giving that we receive.