At the beginning of March, TLC debuted its latest reality series, “Jay and Pamela.” The series follows an engaged couple living with osteogenesis imperfecta, aka brittle bone disease—which “Real Housewives of Atlanta” newbie Kelli Ferrell brought awareness to in a recent episode of the Bravo show, helping to raise money at an event in support of those who live with the disease.
In TLC’s furthering of awareness on OI, the series introduces Jay Manuel and Pamela Chavez by highlighting their upbeat, can-do attitude butting up against the harsh realities of society and their own medical limitations. I knew that, for better or worse, I’d have to watch it, especially considering Jay and Pamela’s “rare disorder” was my own. I have lived with osteogenesis imperfecta my entire life and am a full-time wheelchair user. I’ve also watched a lot of content that seeks to talk about my disability. Most of these fall in the same trope of emphasizing those with OI as fragile china dolls, even if they don’t have the short stature and other physical attributes commonly associated with OI. The 2000 superhero film “Unbreakable” and its 2019 sequel “Glass” are prime examples, where the villainous Mr. Glass (Samuel L. Jackson) only retains the extremely breakable bones and nothing else.
Shows like “Jay and Pamela” continue to sell the idea that a good disabled person is one who is 100% able to take care of themselves and who doesn’t need a community or a safety net.
Watching “Jay and Pamela” on TLC, I wasn’t so much concerned with how accurately it portrayed life with OI—I was more concerned with how the couple fit the stereotype of the “good” disabled person. This is a major trope in disabled representation, specifically in the reality TV community. Disabled people are often depicted on screen as positive and resilient. When they face challenges, they adapt and are always grateful. Society may react to them negatively, but these are shown as fleeting interactions and/or the disabled people in question emphasize how they use these opportunities to create teachable moments. And there are plenty of these teachable moments on display in “Jay and Pamela.” When out and about at a bar, or at a bowling alley, the couple say that when people rudely stare at them, they wish they’d just say, “Hi.” There’s never a confrontation or attempt to call the starers to the carpet; the show just focuses on how Jay and Pamela are living their best lives in the face of these ignorant people. They are of use to the predominantly able-bodied audience, not only teaching someone how to interact with a disabled person but, through the act of watching them, the abled audience sees how they can feel better about themselves through them. If these clearly disabled people can make the most of things, then you certainly can’t complain.
To an abled-audience, Jay and Pamela blur the line between unique and oddity. The goal is to illustrate their disability, their appearance and dive into their prurient interests (of course, they’re asked how they have sex), but never to show what the majority of people like them face, like financial independence. One in four working-age disabled people has an income below the federal poverty limit. Over 10 million people qualify for Medicaid based on disability, with 5.4% claiming some form of Social Security assistance, per a 2022 poll. Those who qualify and collect from either of the two disabled Social Security programs, SSI or SSDI, generally make about $1500 a month and are limited in regards to how much they can save, with marriage usually being something that threatens their disability payments due to its ability to throw them over the income threshold.
The system is rigged, to be sure, but shows like TLC’s reality programming play a part in only showing severely disabled people who are independently wealthy.
You won’t find any of this discussed on “Jay and Pamela.” It’s said that Jay is a music producer and Pamela works in corporate America, so while it’s never specified if they collect any government assistance or utilize government programs, their jobs would certainly threaten that. Jay lives in an affluent part of Georgia with his parents, with a fully tricked out wheelchair accessible van. Both utilize motorized wheelchairs. One episode sees the pair go to buy a house, a surprising moment considering nearly 4 million disabled people collecting SSI can’t afford to pay rent in the US. The only time money is discussed is in regard to their wedding. Financial concerns otherwise are non-existent. But this is the point of “Jay and Pamela,” they are the good examples of disabled people because they aren’t utilizing (some might say living off) the government, ignoring the generational wealth of Jay’s family. Their good attitude and ability to support themselves, or have others support them, furthers the presumption that the majority of those on government disability don’t need it. If these two clearly disabled people don’t need it, no one else does.
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Contrast this with other TLC shows like their staple series “My 600-Lb Life,” which follows morbidly obese people as they struggle to lose weight and get gastric bypass surgery. The viewer watches the subjects spend what is presented as the majority of their day eating bad food and not working. Even with jobs, they often spend the day working from their bed or sitting. Some clearly display handicapped plaques as they go to the store. Though never specifically stated, the level of impairment these subjects have leaves the viewer to believe they’re collecting government assistance. Unlike “Jay and Pamela,” the audience watches “My 600-Lb Life” and sees the main disabled stereotype writ large: people sitting at home eating cookies and living off people’s hard-earned tax dollars.
The problem today is the real attacks on disabled services. Because reality shows like this don’t explore the nuances of disability, abled audiences are unaware of how a person’s healthcare is tied into their ability to qualify for programs like SSI and SSDI. If you qualify for SSI, you also have access to in-home healthcare services, all of which are currently under threat by the Department of Government Efficiency. So, even if a disabled person doesn’t need the money, many intentionally stay under federal poverty limit thresholds because their job doesn’t have healthcare, or they aren’t able to function without a home health aide. The system is rigged, to be sure, but shows like TLC’s reality programming play a part in only showing severely disabled people who are independently wealthy. They focus on the exceptions, not the norms.
As someone who has utilized both SSI and SSDI throughout my entire life, it’s frustrating to see how TLC shows like “Jay and Pamela” continue to sell the idea that a good disabled person is one who is 100% able to take care of themselves and who doesn’t need a community or a safety net. This has real-world consequences. In a conversation with a family member earlier this year, wherein I expressed my own fears about disabled children being removed from schools, or the loss of services, I was told to not worry about it because “you’re not that type of disabled person. They’ll know you’re one of the good ones.” But who defines that and how? I don’t worry about how representation like this affects me; I note my privilege, but I do worry about how it affects those more disabled than myself. Until viewers are willing to look deeper at their own programming, it’s, unfortunately, up to us to set them straight.
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