I watched Dancing On Wheels yesterday, a new BBC show that's come out of the Strictly Come Dancing stable but that pairs one wheelchair-using dancer with one standing partner. I was asked if I'd go on it (to add to my reality-tv non-portfolio: I was invited to go on Wife Swap when we moved to Devizes but didn't fancy the reputation of owning the Wife-Swap-Toyshop). Watching the show, I'm glad I turned them down.
Six couples, one of whom gets knocked out each week. Three judges, only one of whom is a wheelchair user. One coach, Brian Fortuna, who was on Strictly. A long period of four days a week training. Being followed by cameras the whole time. The winners get to compete in the Wheelchair Dance Sport European Championship. No thanks.
I'm sure I would gain by learning how to dance in my chair. When I read Wheelchair Dancer's blog I'm stirred by her language of movement and flow and ease. I don't feel any of that in my chair. My chair is a mechanism for getting me around; I don't feel it's part of me. I'm only too happy to get out of it. I don't wheel with grace or style. Yes, the show is amazing to watch. Yes, it's wonderful the BBC has commissioned it. Yes, the show will change perceptions of wheelchair users. I'd just rather be an observer than a participant. I'm not ready to dance just yet.
