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It is 1968 and a disabled woman is pregnant. What next?

It's 1968 and Sue is in the toilet at a pop festival. Abortion, which has just been legalised, provides a moment of liberation. But for wheelchair user Sue, it also throws up difficult questions about her body and her beliefs. A whirlwind romance has left her pregnant. What should she do now?

This story is part of CripTales, a series of fictional monologues, based on factual research and the lived experience of disabled people spanning British history since 1970.

Funny, inventive, dramatic and sexy, each one places disabled voices centre stage.

Originally recorded for television, ±«Óătv Ouch is sharing three of the monologues to mark 25 years since the Disability Discrimination Act was passed.

Subscribe to this podcast on ±«Óătv Sounds or say "Ask the ±«Óătv for Ouch" to your smart speaker.

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Transcript: Thunderbox

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mat -

Hi there. This is the Ouch podcast and I’m Mat Fraser, actor and writer. CripTales, which I curated, is a series of monologues written, directed and performed by disabled people. Ouch is featuring them in their week of podcasts to mark the 25th anniversary of the Disability Discrimination Act. This monologue is ‘Thunderbox’ by deaf actor and writer, Genevieve Barr, starring BAFTA nominated actor, Ruth Madeley. It’s about who exactly is in charge of a disabled woman’s body and who gets to decide about childbirth.

In 1967 abortion became legal in the UK, but religion, family and society’s beliefs often strongly influenced these decisions. The story starts at a pop festival in a wooden Portaloo, known as a thunderbox. Outside is an empty wheelchair. We move in to see a young white woman in a ’60s dress, sitting on the loo with her tights down. This is ‘Thunderbox’. I hope you enjoy it.Ìę

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[’6os pop music plays]

Ruth

Jack Kelly walked into my granddad’s bed shop and asked if he could buy a mattress. I was sat at the counter reading my ‘Lady Penelope’, and when he saw me he said he’d have me on top of it an’ all. The mattress, not my ‘Lady Penelope’. My jaw just
 [laughs]. And then he laughed and it was so
 joyous
 before my granddad heard him and went after him with a Dial A Matic. Thankfully it weren’t worse, he were watching over the butcher’s shop next door.

So I put me jaw back up and that was that, you know? Or at least I thought it was. He came back the next day. I was just
 [laughs]. I never thought a boy like that would look at me like that, and just be like, okay. Not special, like, just okay. Okay’s fine with me. We had our first date at the bed shop. “Why go elsewhere when we have all we need for romance here,” he said. I’m not one to argue. I locked up and span around with me hands on me hips like I’d seen me nan do in her dancing classes.

“Where are the candles then?” he said. Not that we did candles, they don’t really mix well with goose eiderdown. He got us a pie and I let him have some whisky. Ten years. Ten years younger and all the spaces between us. It didn’t matter though, we didn’t touch. He said he stank from working at the docks. But there was a magnetism in our minds. I was flustered at its simple promise.

My ma had a backstreet abortion. They give her a choice. It were Farrar’s Catholic pills or a quick jab up
 there with the needles. She chose the pills. It didn’t do the job. Hospitalised her. Barely survived. She said she wouldn’t wish the pain on anyone. Worse than childbirth. It don’t sound right, that. And when I arrived three years later all crooked she said I were punishment for her sins.

Sex was
 I once walked in on me nan blowing the hairdryer up on her
 box. [sniggers] Her face! It were like a cross between when she’s found a corner piece of a jigsaw and when me ma occasionally comes home and tries to fob off with her baccy. This peculiar reluctant delight. It’s the first time she swore at me. “You’ve got hands, you can bloody knock,” she said. I just stood there. “Won’t you burn yourself?” I asked. And she pressed her lips tightly, like she was trying to squash a smile. “All things need a bit of an airing from time to time.” I could barely breathe for crying wi’ laughter.

“Best to get it done quick,” he said, “first time won’t feel like our minds meeting. And then you’ll start to blossom.” “Blossom? What, like a cocoon?” His voice sounded funny. [muffled] “A cocoon?” he said. “A cock oon,” I replied. He laughed and
 His skin smelt nice. They’d been loading Cheshire salts on the boats at the docks.

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[music]

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My granddad got the Bizzies involved. “It weren’t right,” they all said. So they went calling for him down at the docks. Me granddad dragged me down an’ all in case he didn’t come by his name. I remember how our minds met. He was gone. Dockmaster said, “He’s a Woolly Back, what do we expect?” Then, “A girl like her will be grateful.” Granddad didn’t need his Dial-A-Matic that time.

The doctor described me to my ma as subnormal. That was the word. “You’ve got a girl but I’m afraid she’s come out subnormal.” Polite. He said, “Given the outcome had been unexpected no one would judge if
 If things didn’t work out.” Community care could be arranged. “We could fix to have her sterilised. It might be kind.” Or kinder. That’s British eugenics for you. Me nan put a stop to all that. Fourteen, I were knitting baby clothes for Barnardo’s to send over to the Colonies. Ma walked in and she didn’t like that at all. Snatched them right out me hand, pulled the stiches out. “No, no more,” she said. “You’re the end of the line.”

I tried to kiss her and lick the whisky from her breath. Babies need to be kept warm, it helps them feel safe. My ma drove me in Granddad’s car. Me nan couldn’t. Three hundred miles away, a small cottage hospital. My ma stayed in the car. “You’ve got to get rid,” she said, “it’s not right.” She slipped me a bus fare, lit up a fag and shot off in a plume of smoke. I sat in the disappointment room. Last on the list. “It might get more complicated with you.” I got a pat on the hand. He went in, he went out. A lady whispered, “You’re lucky, you know. No one’s going to judge you for getting rid.” I got another pat.

Later, I went in. The doctor said, “You’ve made the right choice.” I felt my legs pick me up and carry me away. When I got back Nan was knitting by the fire. She knew. I said, “I’m having her.” Nan cried. She said she was too old. “No. No more, not again. Who’s to raise her?” [crying] “Me,” I said. “You’re not fit,” she said. “Me. I can do it, I can.” Her lips
 her lips pressed tightly for a long time. She patted me on the hand and said, “Be fair. Life’s not fair.” The point is Father, I wanted her. Will you let her know that please? Forgive me, Father. Forgive me, darling girl.

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[music]

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