Waving Back

Sitting in a hotel flipping by the channels I stop at the broadcast of some huge event. I don't realize for a few seconds that it's the opening ceremonies for the Special Olympics world games. I put the flicker down to watch. There is some complex 'dance' going on, two people with disabilities are climbing up a human mountain. The music is compelling and the two disabled folks are the only ones wearing colour, all the others are dressed in sparkling white.

As I watch I remember being asked to comment on Special Olympics for the CBC on the morning show. The topic was, put bluntly, Special Olympics, it's cute but is it sport? Toronto was hosting the Winter Games and as such, the media was picking up on it. It wasn't reported, however, in the sports pages, which led to the topic being raised on the Morning Show. I agreed only if they had a Special Olympian on with me. In order to do my job well I went to watch some of the games. I chose figure skating because that's a sport I understand.

The seats in the arena were too small, it was incredibly crowded in the venue, there was excitement in the air. I watched as people with disabilities became atheletes before my eyes. I saw the depth of the community that was there cheering, I was moved by the concentration of the skaters and the seriousness with which they took their performances.

This was during a time when the movement to ban Special Olympics was very strong and to openly support them was almost career suicide. I've never had an issue with standing for what I believed and I've never understood the hysterical response to the SO. What's wrong with having activities that are aimed specifically at a minority group? Every minority has their own events, times to come together, big deal.

I wrote and published a piece called Hot Fudge Sunday that described the debate on CBC television. The name came from the Special Olympian who appeared with me, Martin Fudge. In it I was publically and clearly stating my support for the event and for Special Olympics as a whole. Whoa, was there fallout from that! I did a huge keynote presentation in the States shortly thereafter and was called and specifically forbidden to even mention Special Olympics. I got letters, boy did I get letters.

Some spoke of taudry venues in their home communities where people with disabilities were forced to run around a track. Others spoke of the damaging effects of segregation and the need to disallow segregated activities. It struck me that both examples involved the use of force - forced participation, forced abstention. To me the issue has always really been force and power. If a person with a disability chooses to go ... um ... what business is it of yours to even have much of an opinion?

All this was running through my mind when I was watching the openning ceremonies. Then the moment came where they were carrying in the Special Olympics flag. Four atheletes with disabilites slowly processed the flag into the venue, one on each corner. The guy on the back left corner was almost vibrating with excitement. And why wouldn't he? This would be one of the big moments of his life.

They walked in like they'd practised this a time or two before. Then suddenly his hand raised and his fingers waved at the crowd. He couldn't stop himself. He had to say 'Hey'. In that moment he was who he was for the world to see. He was proud. He just had to say, "I'm here, look at me, I'm here."

As a fat, stupid child, I know what it is to be different and to seek the shadows, to search out the safety of corners, to lurk just out of sight. My world was full of cruelty, there was safety in invisibility.

It would have been wonderful to have a moment, just one moment, where it was safe to be. To raise my hand and wave my fingers, to be amongst my own.

I didn't have it.

But by God, he did.

And I saw it. Laying on my bed in a hotel far from home.

I waved back.