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Kenny Fries finds parallels between evolution and his life experience in new book. (Photo courtesy of Carroll & Graf)
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KATHI WOLFE
Friday, June 08, 2007
For
most
of
his
life,
gay
writer
and
poet
Kenny
Fries
only
saw
that
he
walked
differently
from
able-bodied
people
when
he
looked
down
at
his
orthopedic
shoes.
Now,
Fries,
born
in
1960
with
bones
missing
in
both
of
his
legs,
sees
much
more
than
this
difference.
He
remembers
the
places
(from
temples
in
Thailand
to
the
Colorado
River
rapids
running
through
the
Grand
Canyon),
where
his
shoes,
adapted
to
his
different
way
of
walking,
enabled
him
to
travel.
“The
History
of
My
Shoes
and
the
Evolution
of
Darwin’s
Theory,”
his
newest
work,
defies
pigeon-holing.
Fries
juxtaposes
the
story
of
his
changing
made-to-order
shoes
with
a
concise
history
of
Charles
Darwin
and
Alfred
Russel
Wallace’s
development
of
the
idea
of
evolution.
The
author
offers
a
travelogue
as
well
as
probing
explorations
of
ableism
(prejudice
against
people
with
disabilities),
difference
and
adaptation.
Fries,
like
a
growing
number
of
gay
and
straight
writers
with
disabilities,
places
disability
within
a
context
of
civil
rights,
pride
and
culture.
Though
he
has
had
pain
from
his
impairment,
Fries
believes
that
disability
is
more
than
a
medical
issue.
“What
is
a
disability?
Who
is
disabled?
Who
decides?”
he
asks.
Often
this
decision
is
made,
not
by
the
person
with
a
disability,
but
by
a
non-disabled
person,
acting
out
of
fear
or
ignorance,
Fries
argues.
As
a
graduate
student
in
New
York
and
later
in
San
Francisco,
he
was
successful
at
finding
sexual
partners
in
gay
bars.
But
once,
a
man
decided
“not
to
go
home
with
me
after
he
noticed
my
legs,”
Fries
writes,
“…
what
made
me
disabled
was
not
my
bodily
impairment
but
this
man
who
decided
to
disable
my
body
by
choosing
…
not
to
have
sex
with
me
that
night.”
JUST
AS
GAY
people
sometimes
internalize
homophobia,
people
with
disabilities
can
be
ashamed
of
being
disabled,
especially
in
approval-based
situations
like
cruising
a
nightclub.
When
he
first
went
to
bars,
Fries
sat
on
a
stool
and
avoided
standing
to
keep
his
disability
from
being
noticed.
“By
deciding
to
remain
stationary,
in
my
mind
I
made
myself
nondisabled,”
he
writes.
“As
soon
as
I
walked,
I
felt
I
would
become
disabled.”
Fries
has
also
a
completely
opposite
experience.
After
being
photographed
for
a
gay
sex
guide
to
portray
a
disabled
men
having
sex,
Fries
learned
that
his
disability
“didn’t
read”
(wasn’t
visible
enough).
His
photos
didn’t
appear
in
the
published
guide.
Instead,
there
was
only
“one
fully
clothed
disabled
man
in
his
disability-signifying
wheelchair,”
Fries
writes.
THIS
ISN’T
THE
author’s
first
exploration
of
these
themes.
In
1997,
he
wrote
the
searing
memoir
“Body,
Remember”
and
edited
“Staring
Back:
the
Disability
Experience
from
the
Inside
Out,”
a
superb
anthology
of
writing
by
people
with
disabilities.
“The
History
of
My
Shoes”
is
a
fascinating
edition
to
his
developing
oeuvre.
With
incisive
passion,
Fries
argues
that
the
ideas
of
Darwin
and
Wallace
yield
insights
into
how
disability
fits
into
culture.
Disabled
people
adapt
(as
Fries
does
by
changing
his
shoes
to
meet
his
needs)
in
order
to
survive
just
as
species
do.
Because
variation
is
important
to
evolution,
“people
with
a
physical
difference”
are
important
to
the
survival
of
the
human
species.
The
shift
between
chapters
on
evolution
and
essays
on
Fries’
life
is
jarring
at
times
and
the
writing
on
science
can
be
a
tad
dense.
But
these
are
minor
quibbles.
“The
History
of
My
Shoes”
will
take
you
on
a
remarkable
journey
of
memoir,
disability
and
culture.
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