Let’s get one thing straight: I’ve been called a lot of names in my life. Some were meant to insult me. Others were just people trying to be clever. “Crippled” is the one that’ll earn you a swift response.
You call me “crippled,” and I don’t care what your excuse is — I will straight-up punch you in the balls and not apologize for it.
Now, “gimpy”? That one’s different. You see, I’ve got cerebral palsy. My body does gimpy shit. All the time. It’s not an insult — it’s a fucking fact. And I decided a long time ago I wasn’t going to dance around that fact just to make other people comfortable.
I’ve had Gimp tattooed on my arm longer than most of you have had a Facebook account — and definitely longer than you’ve had that rainbow bumper sticker on your Prius. These days, people want to be identified as anything from non-binary to a woodland squirrel, and the world is told to clap and nod. Cool. But the minute I say, “Hey, I’m a gimp,” people lose their minds.
This isn’t a phase or a cry for attention. It’s identity. It’s attitude. It’s ownership of the body I live in and the life I’ve built from a chair.
About 15 years ago — hell, maybe 20 — The Onion put out a list of slang terms for disabled folks. This was before they sold out and started sucking, but that’s another post. I don’t remember the whole list, but a few stuck with me: “prey-like” — as in small animals who get hunted — and “conveniently parked.” That one made me laugh out loud. But it’s got nothing on “gimp.” And the image they used in the article? I swear to God it looked like a photo of me. Back when The Onion was still being produced out of downtown Madison, before it turned into whatever hollow shell it is now.
Some people — even other disabled folks — get their shorts in a twist when I use the word. They act like I’m setting the community back a hundred years. Guess what? That’s your problem, not mine.
But then there are the ones who do get it — the disabled people who lock eyes with me and grin like pirates. The ones who throw it right back with a “Hell yeah you are. So am I.” Those are my people. That’s the tribe.
People call themselves fat, bald, nerdy, or old all the damn time. And the world shrugs. But I call myself a gimp — myself — and suddenly everyone’s offended on my behalf? Grow up.
This is who I am. I’m not fragile. I don’t need you to wrap me in euphemisms. I need you to either laugh with me or get the hell out of my way.
Most of you know me on this site as The Prince of Darkness. But underneath the sarcasm and deep cuts, I’ve always been The Gimp. In fact, there’s an entire chunk of the Madison music scene — people I’ve worked with for years — who don’t even call me Lucas. They just call me Gimp. I’ve walked into bars, venues, and studios where someone yells “Hey, Gimp!” and my head snaps around faster than if someone said my actual name. Because they’re probably talking to me. That’s not a nickname. That’s identity.
And I’m not giving that up because someone else can’t handle it.
If that offends you?
Congratulations — your face offends me, and I still have to look at it.
So suck it up. Or don’t. I’ll still be over here, flying the flag.
Gimp. Loud. Proud. Rolling right over your comfort zone.
Have something to say? We welcome your comments below — this is where the real conversation happens.
Each blog post is shared across our social transmitters, but those are just bigger antennas. The original source — and the signal we control — is right here on the blog. If you’re looking for other ways to stay updated on Rolling with Scissors, you’ll find our official transmitters linked below.
Spin the dial — we’re probably on it. Lock onto your frequency. Pick your favorite antenna below and ride the signal back to us.