I have just given permission for my blog post The People Who Are will be up on the Fox News Site tomorrow. Now, here's the thing. They may change their minds, I don't know for certain. They just said that it will probably be there tomorrow. To see if they decided to post it and the reaction it gets, go to the site and then click the Opinion button.
See you tomorrow with a new blog post on inclusion.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Sherpa
I noticed them go by. Joe and I were sitting having a cup of tea on a patio somewhere in downtown Boston. It was lovely as we were completely shaded and there was a tiny bit of a breeze. The three of them slowly walked by. He was a distinguished looking grey haired man who looked as if he was new to, and uncomfortable in, a wheelchair. Two young women were with him, they all looked enough alike to suggest they swam in the same gene pool. There was a brittle silence amongst them.
About half way through my green tea they came out of the store they had gone into. One woman was pulling a large square box on a dolly, a large, long, rectangular box lay resting across the arms of the wheelchair. They slowly made their way towards us. When they got close enough, I called out to the guy in the wheelchair, 'You know, man, they are totally using you right now.' He looked at me startled. I said again, 'Really, man, they are so using you.' Slowly his mouth formed into a small then larger smile. He got and he liked the joke.
The woman with the dolly walking ahead turned and there was a gasp from her. She said, under her breath, 'I thought he'd forgotten how to smile.' As he was passing he said something that I couldn't hear. But the woman pushing the chair did and she screamed with laughter. He was still looking at me and I knew he'd got a good one off because now he was chuckling. Sometimes I laugh just because someone else is laughing. Suddenly Joe and I were curled up laughing.
They made their way down the street.
Sometimes I regret my impulsively.
Sometimes I don't.
At that moment, I absolutely did not.
About half way through my green tea they came out of the store they had gone into. One woman was pulling a large square box on a dolly, a large, long, rectangular box lay resting across the arms of the wheelchair. They slowly made their way towards us. When they got close enough, I called out to the guy in the wheelchair, 'You know, man, they are totally using you right now.' He looked at me startled. I said again, 'Really, man, they are so using you.' Slowly his mouth formed into a small then larger smile. He got and he liked the joke.
The woman with the dolly walking ahead turned and there was a gasp from her. She said, under her breath, 'I thought he'd forgotten how to smile.' As he was passing he said something that I couldn't hear. But the woman pushing the chair did and she screamed with laughter. He was still looking at me and I knew he'd got a good one off because now he was chuckling. Sometimes I laugh just because someone else is laughing. Suddenly Joe and I were curled up laughing.
They made their way down the street.
Sometimes I regret my impulsively.
Sometimes I don't.
At that moment, I absolutely did not.
Monday, August 30, 2010
10 Rules of Engagement: How To Self Adocate
Again!
Accessibility promised not delivered.
Again!
Frustration and anger.
Again!
Confrontation and resolution.
If you are going to have the audacity to have a disability, you are going to need the ability to effectively advocate for yourself. It is imperative that you know how to use your voice, how to control your temper, how to ensure that you control the flow of the confrontation and resist the impulse to be placated or bought off. From me to you, my tips on advocating when angry.
1) Breathe: It is important to think through the situation, you need some clarity, take a breath and slow down. The heart is probably racing, the blood pressure is high, the situation has caught you unawares. You need to be able to be firm, not hysterical. You need to be plain spoken, not vulgar. You need to be clear on what the issue is, not jump from topic to topic. So take a breath, when you know what you want to say, start - you have the opportunity, sometimes, to control when the confrontation happens. If the timing doesn't allow that, take a breath anyways, focus your mind quickly and ... start.
2) Respect: You want respect not pity. The issue is almost never your disability, it's inaccessibility. Make this about their attitude, their behaviour or their environment not your disability. Remember we are most often disabled by external factors. I once flew across the ocean, got in a car and drove 200 miles, only to arrive at a hotel and suddenly become disabled because they didn't bother to honour my request for an accessible room - they disabled me. So keep it clear, this is about them primarily.
3) Don't Barter: Often you will be offered a free room, a free meal, a certificate for the future. OK. Fine. But that's not good enough. Let them know that you are not complaining because you want financial compensation, you want moral compensation. You want to ensure that this doesn't happen to another person with a disability, you want the situation rectified, you want to know what they are going to do to change things so that accommodation offered is given. You want a 'right now' fix and a 'long term' solution. I get the impression that most managers think you are just doing this for a free ride - let them know that's not the case.
4) Respect: Yeah, this is here twice. don't hammer a clerk who has no power and is paid minimum wage. Speak to the manager. Even then, don't do to them what you don't want done to you - don't swear at them, don't call them names, don't cast aspersions on their character. This drives them nuts! They want a reason to dismiss you, don't give it to them. Be angry, be frustrated, be firm but be respectful at the same time. Even if they are not understanding or, ultimately, accommodating - don't give in to the urge to 'poo on their heads'. Go higher, go postal - write a letter or an email. They are more afraid of those who go forward with complaints based on anger and reason rather than anger and vitriol.
5) Power: Manage what power you have well. Saying, "I'll never do business here again," means that once you are out of the door - problem solved. Saying, "When I come back I don't want this experience again," means - oh, my, this is someone who will be back and will be expecting change. Too, speaking loud enough to be heard by others is great, they don't want to look like they are upsetting someone with a disability or a parent of a child with a disability. But screaming just pisses everyone off, even those who would be your allies. As well, create enough of a problem that they can't get on with other things until this is settled but don't be purposefully obstructive to others. It unsettles them if you say, 'I'll wait while you deal with this other customer.' The other customer will appreciate it and your credence as an opponent grows.
6) Platitudes and Apologies: Don't let them say, 'I understand' ... because if they do not have a disability, do not have a child with a disability, they don't understand. I hate it when non-disabled people use that line on me. They can imagine what it's like to live using a wheelchair but they don't know and because they don't know they don't understand. Stop them with a clear, 'You don't understand, don't patronize me!' They are using some crap training to try to get you calmed down and on side. Don't let them do it. Apologies are attempts to derail discussion and make it look like you've been heard - the only apology worth anything is change. Be clear on that.
7) Respect: It's back for a third visit. Always speak respectfully of your life with a disability or your child with a disability. Now is not the time to pull out the word 'cripple'! Don't go on about how hard life is for you. That makes disability the issue again. Speak of yourself and your life with respect - if you go for pity, you move them into a position of superiority. Then what they give you will be out of their magnanimity rather than because you are due your rights as an equal.
8) Settle: They say 'never settle' ... I disagree. If something can't be done in the moment, settle for a promise and a plan for something changing. If something can be done, once it's done, it's done. Carrying on and on about it once it's over is counter productive and makes it seem that all you are doing is attention seeking.
9) Close: Finish when you are done, this should be at least 3 or 4 minutes past their toleration. They should be uncomfortable with the interchange. At some level you have to make them feel. Learning happens when emotions are put with facts. You want them to fear this happening in the future, you want them to do everything they can to avoid other firmly angry, appropriately aggressive disabled people. So, control when it ends. Leave the situation with calm and dignity, storming off makes you look like a two year old. Be adult all the way through, right to the end.
10) Follow up: Go postal, as mentioned earlier. Write an email, write a letter, communicate in some way that you expect change. You will, when angry, be tempted to say, 'I'm going to call your head office.' The reason you say this is that it is a really good idea. Don't threaten and then not do - they will come to not believe that you will have the gumption or the energy to follow through. It takes only a few minutes to put thoughts down on paper or in an email message. Take the time and, of course, copy it to the establishment in question.
I've gotten really good at confrontation, I don't like it, I don't want to do it, but I'm disabled, so I have to use my voice over and over again. It's part of what it is to be different in a world that honours uniformity. So, what tips do you have because I'm sure I'll have to do this ...
Again.
Accessibility promised not delivered.
Again!
Frustration and anger.
Again!
Confrontation and resolution.
If you are going to have the audacity to have a disability, you are going to need the ability to effectively advocate for yourself. It is imperative that you know how to use your voice, how to control your temper, how to ensure that you control the flow of the confrontation and resist the impulse to be placated or bought off. From me to you, my tips on advocating when angry.
1) Breathe: It is important to think through the situation, you need some clarity, take a breath and slow down. The heart is probably racing, the blood pressure is high, the situation has caught you unawares. You need to be able to be firm, not hysterical. You need to be plain spoken, not vulgar. You need to be clear on what the issue is, not jump from topic to topic. So take a breath, when you know what you want to say, start - you have the opportunity, sometimes, to control when the confrontation happens. If the timing doesn't allow that, take a breath anyways, focus your mind quickly and ... start.
2) Respect: You want respect not pity. The issue is almost never your disability, it's inaccessibility. Make this about their attitude, their behaviour or their environment not your disability. Remember we are most often disabled by external factors. I once flew across the ocean, got in a car and drove 200 miles, only to arrive at a hotel and suddenly become disabled because they didn't bother to honour my request for an accessible room - they disabled me. So keep it clear, this is about them primarily.
3) Don't Barter: Often you will be offered a free room, a free meal, a certificate for the future. OK. Fine. But that's not good enough. Let them know that you are not complaining because you want financial compensation, you want moral compensation. You want to ensure that this doesn't happen to another person with a disability, you want the situation rectified, you want to know what they are going to do to change things so that accommodation offered is given. You want a 'right now' fix and a 'long term' solution. I get the impression that most managers think you are just doing this for a free ride - let them know that's not the case.
4) Respect: Yeah, this is here twice. don't hammer a clerk who has no power and is paid minimum wage. Speak to the manager. Even then, don't do to them what you don't want done to you - don't swear at them, don't call them names, don't cast aspersions on their character. This drives them nuts! They want a reason to dismiss you, don't give it to them. Be angry, be frustrated, be firm but be respectful at the same time. Even if they are not understanding or, ultimately, accommodating - don't give in to the urge to 'poo on their heads'. Go higher, go postal - write a letter or an email. They are more afraid of those who go forward with complaints based on anger and reason rather than anger and vitriol.
5) Power: Manage what power you have well. Saying, "I'll never do business here again," means that once you are out of the door - problem solved. Saying, "When I come back I don't want this experience again," means - oh, my, this is someone who will be back and will be expecting change. Too, speaking loud enough to be heard by others is great, they don't want to look like they are upsetting someone with a disability or a parent of a child with a disability. But screaming just pisses everyone off, even those who would be your allies. As well, create enough of a problem that they can't get on with other things until this is settled but don't be purposefully obstructive to others. It unsettles them if you say, 'I'll wait while you deal with this other customer.' The other customer will appreciate it and your credence as an opponent grows.
6) Platitudes and Apologies: Don't let them say, 'I understand' ... because if they do not have a disability, do not have a child with a disability, they don't understand. I hate it when non-disabled people use that line on me. They can imagine what it's like to live using a wheelchair but they don't know and because they don't know they don't understand. Stop them with a clear, 'You don't understand, don't patronize me!' They are using some crap training to try to get you calmed down and on side. Don't let them do it. Apologies are attempts to derail discussion and make it look like you've been heard - the only apology worth anything is change. Be clear on that.
7) Respect: It's back for a third visit. Always speak respectfully of your life with a disability or your child with a disability. Now is not the time to pull out the word 'cripple'! Don't go on about how hard life is for you. That makes disability the issue again. Speak of yourself and your life with respect - if you go for pity, you move them into a position of superiority. Then what they give you will be out of their magnanimity rather than because you are due your rights as an equal.
8) Settle: They say 'never settle' ... I disagree. If something can't be done in the moment, settle for a promise and a plan for something changing. If something can be done, once it's done, it's done. Carrying on and on about it once it's over is counter productive and makes it seem that all you are doing is attention seeking.
9) Close: Finish when you are done, this should be at least 3 or 4 minutes past their toleration. They should be uncomfortable with the interchange. At some level you have to make them feel. Learning happens when emotions are put with facts. You want them to fear this happening in the future, you want them to do everything they can to avoid other firmly angry, appropriately aggressive disabled people. So, control when it ends. Leave the situation with calm and dignity, storming off makes you look like a two year old. Be adult all the way through, right to the end.
10) Follow up: Go postal, as mentioned earlier. Write an email, write a letter, communicate in some way that you expect change. You will, when angry, be tempted to say, 'I'm going to call your head office.' The reason you say this is that it is a really good idea. Don't threaten and then not do - they will come to not believe that you will have the gumption or the energy to follow through. It takes only a few minutes to put thoughts down on paper or in an email message. Take the time and, of course, copy it to the establishment in question.
I've gotten really good at confrontation, I don't like it, I don't want to do it, but I'm disabled, so I have to use my voice over and over again. It's part of what it is to be different in a world that honours uniformity. So, what tips do you have because I'm sure I'll have to do this ...
Again.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Bob and His Contest
I got so excited when I saw them, I just simply forgot. In the joy of discovery that only those with the true 'shopper gene' have, I rushed to purchase. I pictured my pleasure being ultimately reflected on the face of two others. Gift giving is cool, particularly gifts for no reason - just because. What did I find? I found six tins of sugar free mints each with a different logo from a different British Football Club: Chelsea, Arsenal, Manchester United, Celtic, Liverpool, Rangers. We were visiting Mike's son, Joseph, who is a huge football fan and were going to give them to him almost right after buying them. The other set I bought for Bob, the superintendent of our building.
Only after buying them and rolling out to the car did I realize that Bob died a few months ago and our building has a completely different set of staff. Odd, though, how in the joy of the moment, someone came alive again, vividly alive. Odd, though, how people stay stuck in our minds. How people, unstuck, live again for a few moments. I remembered sitting waiting for the WheelTrans bus outside chatting with Bob and having him remember his time in the UK and how Football was something he really, really, enjoyed.
So I had a gift of six tins for Bob. Somehow, I think Bob is somewhere laughing, both at my folly and at the sheer pleasure of being remembered, again.
What would Bob have me do ...
I think he would want me to give them to someone who loves Football. So if you are a Football fan anywhere in the world, write a comment and I'll put everyone's name in a hat and pull out a winner and send them to you.
This reminds me, 'Home Safe: Keeping people with disabilities safe in services' has just been released. I owe someone a copy of it, someone who won a cover contest, you know who you are - could you send me your address again and it will go out in the next days mail. Sorry about this but I am not only physically disabled, I am also organizationally impaired.
Good luck to those who enter ... how about this, I'll take entries for four days.
Only after buying them and rolling out to the car did I realize that Bob died a few months ago and our building has a completely different set of staff. Odd, though, how in the joy of the moment, someone came alive again, vividly alive. Odd, though, how people stay stuck in our minds. How people, unstuck, live again for a few moments. I remembered sitting waiting for the WheelTrans bus outside chatting with Bob and having him remember his time in the UK and how Football was something he really, really, enjoyed.
So I had a gift of six tins for Bob. Somehow, I think Bob is somewhere laughing, both at my folly and at the sheer pleasure of being remembered, again.
What would Bob have me do ...
I think he would want me to give them to someone who loves Football. So if you are a Football fan anywhere in the world, write a comment and I'll put everyone's name in a hat and pull out a winner and send them to you.
This reminds me, 'Home Safe: Keeping people with disabilities safe in services' has just been released. I owe someone a copy of it, someone who won a cover contest, you know who you are - could you send me your address again and it will go out in the next days mail. Sorry about this but I am not only physically disabled, I am also organizationally impaired.
Good luck to those who enter ... how about this, I'll take entries for four days.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Fathers and Sons
Riding the transit system in the 'special bus' is interesting. Given that every morning I go a different route, I get to see different parts of the city. Given that every other person on the bus has a different life, we go to vastly different places. I now know of services that I never knew existed. It's cool to be plunged into the diversity that is disability.
The other morning I was on the bus with two women. One in a power chair, the other with a walker. Neither were chatterboxes and responded with civil grunts to my 'Good Morning'. I am constantly reminded that being a morning person I can be outright annoying. We dropped of the woman in the power chair at her work place and then we drove for a very long time to get to the next drop point. Here we pulled into a big parking lot and we drove by a 'Pain Management Center'. The bus turned around and then pulled right up beside it's door.
The woman with the walker got up and I could see in her careful movements a long history of living with pain. She glanced at me and wished me a good day and then let the driver guide her down the ramp. I looked out then and saw a father and son heading towards the door. The boy turned to look at the woman getting off the bus and I saw that he was maybe 6 or 7 years old. Even so, he walked old. He walked like little boys should never walk - as if life itself hurt. His dad, a big strapping man, was being bright and cheerful and joking with his son as they headed towards the door. The boy turned to his dad with bright eyes and then for a moment stopped and laughed at something his dad said. I'm sure I saw tears form in his father's eyes as he watched his little boy just stand and laugh.
The laughter over the long, long walk to the clinic began. They, father and son, made that walk together as I watched.
It's not fair.
We shouldn't live in a world where 6 year old boys live in pain.
We shouldn't live in a world where father's watch their children suffer.
But we do live in that world.
Pray God that we all have someone walking beside us making us forget, for just a moment, while we laugh.
The other morning I was on the bus with two women. One in a power chair, the other with a walker. Neither were chatterboxes and responded with civil grunts to my 'Good Morning'. I am constantly reminded that being a morning person I can be outright annoying. We dropped of the woman in the power chair at her work place and then we drove for a very long time to get to the next drop point. Here we pulled into a big parking lot and we drove by a 'Pain Management Center'. The bus turned around and then pulled right up beside it's door.
The woman with the walker got up and I could see in her careful movements a long history of living with pain. She glanced at me and wished me a good day and then let the driver guide her down the ramp. I looked out then and saw a father and son heading towards the door. The boy turned to look at the woman getting off the bus and I saw that he was maybe 6 or 7 years old. Even so, he walked old. He walked like little boys should never walk - as if life itself hurt. His dad, a big strapping man, was being bright and cheerful and joking with his son as they headed towards the door. The boy turned to his dad with bright eyes and then for a moment stopped and laughed at something his dad said. I'm sure I saw tears form in his father's eyes as he watched his little boy just stand and laugh.
The laughter over the long, long walk to the clinic began. They, father and son, made that walk together as I watched.
It's not fair.
We shouldn't live in a world where 6 year old boys live in pain.
We shouldn't live in a world where father's watch their children suffer.
But we do live in that world.
Pray God that we all have someone walking beside us making us forget, for just a moment, while we laugh.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Count Down and Out!
I can barely type!
My very fingertips are sore.
For some reason, beyond my typical reason, I ordered a wheelchair aerobics DVD from Amazon. It came the other day and I decided to try it yesterday morning. My. Oh. My. The 'warm up' ended with me 'worn down'. I quit with everything hurting. How does it come to be that stretching hurts! I didn't know that a 'head roll' could be so noisy. So this morning I got up with the intent of getting past the warm up and into some of the exercises. I made it about 10 minutes longer than yesterday and then had to stop.
This surprises me a little bit because I can push my self a fairly long way. Over the last few months I've been concentrating on asking for Joe to push me less and for me to push over carpet and up hills more. I figured it was my only exercise and I should at least try. Now I can easily push myself right from the apartment down a carpeted hallway, through two sets of doors and down to the road and be sitting waiting when the car pulls around to pick me up. This is a vast improvement. I think that's what gave me the courage to order the DVD.
But. My. Oh. My. This perky blond woman looks out at me from my computer screen and then tortures me with 'three more' ... and of course 'three more' is actually more like six or seven. Never let an aerobics instructor do your taxes! My perky instructor doesn't even break a sweat nor look like her shoulders are screaming in pain. My less than perky self, however, is grunting and groaning and forcing my arms to do what she does.
One of the nice things about getting up ridiculously early in the morning is that there is no one around to watch me punch the air, three more, two more, one more, let's do it again ... So I sit in the faint glow of the computer screen doing head rolls and shoulder rolls all so that I can roll more effectively.
My favourite part is where she talks about pulling your stomach in so that my belly button touches my spine. Um, got a yardstick dearie?
I've got to go shower and then get to the bus and hope that the drone of the engine will drown out the echo of ...
three more, two more ...
My very fingertips are sore.
For some reason, beyond my typical reason, I ordered a wheelchair aerobics DVD from Amazon. It came the other day and I decided to try it yesterday morning. My. Oh. My. The 'warm up' ended with me 'worn down'. I quit with everything hurting. How does it come to be that stretching hurts! I didn't know that a 'head roll' could be so noisy. So this morning I got up with the intent of getting past the warm up and into some of the exercises. I made it about 10 minutes longer than yesterday and then had to stop.
This surprises me a little bit because I can push my self a fairly long way. Over the last few months I've been concentrating on asking for Joe to push me less and for me to push over carpet and up hills more. I figured it was my only exercise and I should at least try. Now I can easily push myself right from the apartment down a carpeted hallway, through two sets of doors and down to the road and be sitting waiting when the car pulls around to pick me up. This is a vast improvement. I think that's what gave me the courage to order the DVD.
But. My. Oh. My. This perky blond woman looks out at me from my computer screen and then tortures me with 'three more' ... and of course 'three more' is actually more like six or seven. Never let an aerobics instructor do your taxes! My perky instructor doesn't even break a sweat nor look like her shoulders are screaming in pain. My less than perky self, however, is grunting and groaning and forcing my arms to do what she does.
One of the nice things about getting up ridiculously early in the morning is that there is no one around to watch me punch the air, three more, two more, one more, let's do it again ... So I sit in the faint glow of the computer screen doing head rolls and shoulder rolls all so that I can roll more effectively.
My favourite part is where she talks about pulling your stomach in so that my belly button touches my spine. Um, got a yardstick dearie?
I've got to go shower and then get to the bus and hope that the drone of the engine will drown out the echo of ...
three more, two more ...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
To Jennifer From Dave
Dear Jennifer Aniston,
I wasn't going to write you this letter. Really, I wasn't, even though readers of this blog asked me to publicly and privately. Most wanted me to put into words the anger that they felt towards you and the controversy that your insensitive use of 'R#tard' had sparked. To me your lack of public apology told me everything I needed to know about you. Until yesterday I thought I had said all I had to say.
But then I learned of him.
Of Ernie Hernandez Jr.
You don't know his name do you Ms Aniston? That's no great surprise. Ernie lived his life quietly being distinguished only by his desire for do a good job, his love of his personal independence and his manner of contributing to the lives of those he cared about. But his freedom came at a cost Ms Aniston, do you know why? Well his mother reported that he would come home and tell her about people in the mall teasing him, taunting him and calling him 'r#tard'. He was fearful but his fear didn't stop him. He had the kind of courage that you and I can only dream of. He wanted to live in the community and he would do so even though there were bullies out there who attacked his very existence.
You may wonder Ms Aniston what this has to do with your casual use of a word. Well, here's the thing. You made the word 'cool' to talk about, your defenders loved the opportunity to tell everyone that you had a God Given Right to speak your mind. Here's some of the company you find yourself in, I am not altering or censoring the words written, their impact may hurt other readers, you, of course, may not care:
You people are retards that are spinning this into something offensive and not politically correct
This PC has gone too far. It is friggin retarded. Unbunch your panties you liberal pricks.
i act like a retard so come slam on me now....piss off everyone is human and says and does things in there life thats others might not think are "right" fredom of speech people we are in AMERICA.
You all need to fuck yourselfs and the retards you rode in on.
Lovely.
Does that give you a sense of what Ernie Hernandez Jr. experienced when he was out for a walk or meeting with friends? Does that give you a sense of what happens to people with disabilities? You see no one much takes the word 'r#tard' seriously. No police officer, few teachers, probably no security guards would intervene. It's a word that everyone uses, even America's Best Friend, Jennifer Aniston. You normalized hate speech. You took a hateful word and trivialized it's impact. You brought out the hate hyena's to bay all over the Internet, all over neighbourhoods, all over schools.
Do you know what happened to Ernie Hernandez Jr., Ms Aniston?
Well the police report stated that the murderous attack on him was violent and vicious. He was stabbed multiple times. He died in the community that he had fought to live in. He died after reporting time and again about being called names, being taunted, hearing 'r#tard' echoing on streets and in passageways.
Modesto California has lost a citizen.
We, people who have disabilities, have lost a brother.
Ms Aniston, you and your thoughtless, meanspirited, language made his life a little harder. You have made our battle longer.
I did not know Ernie, but I mourn him. I mourn that he died too young. I mourn that he experienced social and verbal and finally physical violence. I mourn that the world he wanted to live in did not embrace him.
Ernie, brother, rest well.
Dave Hingsburger
I wasn't going to write you this letter. Really, I wasn't, even though readers of this blog asked me to publicly and privately. Most wanted me to put into words the anger that they felt towards you and the controversy that your insensitive use of 'R#tard' had sparked. To me your lack of public apology told me everything I needed to know about you. Until yesterday I thought I had said all I had to say.
But then I learned of him.
Of Ernie Hernandez Jr.
You don't know his name do you Ms Aniston? That's no great surprise. Ernie lived his life quietly being distinguished only by his desire for do a good job, his love of his personal independence and his manner of contributing to the lives of those he cared about. But his freedom came at a cost Ms Aniston, do you know why? Well his mother reported that he would come home and tell her about people in the mall teasing him, taunting him and calling him 'r#tard'. He was fearful but his fear didn't stop him. He had the kind of courage that you and I can only dream of. He wanted to live in the community and he would do so even though there were bullies out there who attacked his very existence.
You may wonder Ms Aniston what this has to do with your casual use of a word. Well, here's the thing. You made the word 'cool' to talk about, your defenders loved the opportunity to tell everyone that you had a God Given Right to speak your mind. Here's some of the company you find yourself in, I am not altering or censoring the words written, their impact may hurt other readers, you, of course, may not care:
You people are retards that are spinning this into something offensive and not politically correct
This PC has gone too far. It is friggin retarded. Unbunch your panties you liberal pricks.
i act like a retard so come slam on me now....piss off everyone is human and says and does things in there life thats others might not think are "right" fredom of speech people we are in AMERICA.
You all need to fuck yourselfs and the retards you rode in on.
Lovely.
Does that give you a sense of what Ernie Hernandez Jr. experienced when he was out for a walk or meeting with friends? Does that give you a sense of what happens to people with disabilities? You see no one much takes the word 'r#tard' seriously. No police officer, few teachers, probably no security guards would intervene. It's a word that everyone uses, even America's Best Friend, Jennifer Aniston. You normalized hate speech. You took a hateful word and trivialized it's impact. You brought out the hate hyena's to bay all over the Internet, all over neighbourhoods, all over schools.
Do you know what happened to Ernie Hernandez Jr., Ms Aniston?
Well the police report stated that the murderous attack on him was violent and vicious. He was stabbed multiple times. He died in the community that he had fought to live in. He died after reporting time and again about being called names, being taunted, hearing 'r#tard' echoing on streets and in passageways.
Modesto California has lost a citizen.
We, people who have disabilities, have lost a brother.
Ms Aniston, you and your thoughtless, meanspirited, language made his life a little harder. You have made our battle longer.
I did not know Ernie, but I mourn him. I mourn that he died too young. I mourn that he experienced social and verbal and finally physical violence. I mourn that the world he wanted to live in did not embrace him.
Ernie, brother, rest well.
Dave Hingsburger
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
In Good Hands
(Today we have a guest post from a friend of mine - Susan. She wrote this a while back and I've asked her permission to reprint it here. I like this post a lot. So, enjoy another voice today.)
"I'm scared, Mom."
He was scared all right. I could see it in his eyes and in his body movements. We were walking through the new Terminal 1 at Pearson International Airport. He had just checked his baggage and we were heading toward the departure gate. He was wearing the new jacket I had bought him at Costco on the way to the airport. It was the top half of a rain suit, perfect for English weather. The bottom half was safely stowed in his duffel bag and on its way to the belly of the giant air bus he was about to board.
"I'll be praying for you," I said. "You'll be okay. God's brought you this far..."
"Yeah," he said with quiet resolve. "I'm scared, but I'm still going…"
David had just finished his second year at Queen's University in Kingston. While at school that year, he learned about the opportunity to go to England for a study term and had thoroughly and carefully explored the possibility. He applied for a bursary to help with the cost and filled out all the forms on his own, calling us often for reassurance and affirmation that this idea was a good one. We talked to him about the difficulty someone on the autism spectrum would have getting through airport security, finding the right seat on the right plane, and then finding his way around a strange airport in a strange country and ending up, finally, at the right destination but where everything was new and there was no structure in place ahead of time. We thought it would be best if one of us traveled with him. David knew he needed some help, but he didn't need our help. Instead he approached Disability Services on the Queen’s campus and got the name of someone his own age who would also be going on the trip - someone who would watch out for David and was willing to provide any support he might need. "Peer support". He was identifying for himself what his needs were and building his own support system around himself. Yup, our Davie was growing up.
We met El-amin at the airport, just under a massive grey pillar marked "J" and next to the Air Canada counter. It was still half an hour before they could register for their boarding passes so we had a bit of time to get acquainted with him and his parents. Like me, they had come along to see their son off. El-amin was an only child, I soon found out from his lovely, doting mother. Her head was elegantly wrapped in a beautiful scarf. El-amin was very self-assured and told me that he was a philosophy major, just finishing his third year.
"Do you believe all that stuff they teach you?" I smiled at him.
He laughed in reply. "No, not any more. I did during my first year, but it didn't take long to realize that all these cool things that sound like the truth, can't all be the truth. You have to sort things through for yourself."
We visited for a while and then his friend Emily arrived who was also going on the study trip. She was just as friendly and accepting as El-amin. I stood and visited with her parents while the three students procured their boarding passes and then stood in line to check their baggage.
We parents were all excited and obviously apprehensive a little about sending our children across the ocean, even if it was just for six weeks. We exchanged stories and got to know each other a bit. El-amin and Emily soon led David through the baggage checking process and I was relieved to see them take his bag across the counter, having feared all this time that it was overweight and not knowing what we'd do if it was.
Rejoined by our children, we left the baggage checking area and drifted over to Gate 8, where we would be saying our final goodbyes. We were joined by a few other students who were on the same study trip and knew each other from school. We all hung together for a bit longer, looking at the planes out the window, and then suddenly everyone was hugging and kissing, and saying their farewells.
I couldn't believe what a warm and wonderful young man was El-amin. His parents told me that one of his jobs on campus was to welcome International students helping them to adjust to life in Canada on a strange campus. He seemed instinctively to have just the right idea of how much support David needed, while at the same time giving him enough space to maintain his self-esteem.
"C'mon, Dave. This way." El-amin and Emily waited for David to catch up before they all three disappeared behind the sliding doors where they would undergo their security checks. David turned to give me a characteristically stiff hug and then he was gone.
We parents all looked at each other, suddenly bereft of our children. I could see worry and concern behind their smiles and in the reassuring comments they made to one another.
"They'll be all right," they kept saying over, and over.
I had a sense that I wasn't quite fitting in to the situation somehow. I was actually feeling a bit guilty that I wasn't more worried - like these other parents so obviously were. Here was my kid with a fairly significant disability headed across the ocean for six weeks. Wouldn't a "good" parent show the same concern as these others? My kid has a disability and I wasn't worried. Yet, all the parents of these "typically developing" kids obviously were.
I thought about it as we all parted ways and I headed back to the parking garage, but it wasn't until I was telling the story to my friend Belinda on my cell phone on the way home that all my feelings began to gel. David had matured enough to realize what kind of support he would need, and took the steps to arrange for it himself. God had provided El-amin - and Emily – the perfect traveling companions for him and would he not meet all of his other needs as well? What did I have to worry about, really?
David is often overwhelmed with anxiety sometimes to the point of being temporarily incapacitated. He struggles in social situations. And he was headed for England. We, his parents, who had been the primary buffer between him and the rest of the world, were staying behind. But unlike the other parents in that terminal, I was confident my kid would know Who to call on in times of trouble when I'm not there. And I know exactly in Whose hands ultimately he is in.
Godspeed, Davy-boy!
"I'm scared, Mom."
He was scared all right. I could see it in his eyes and in his body movements. We were walking through the new Terminal 1 at Pearson International Airport. He had just checked his baggage and we were heading toward the departure gate. He was wearing the new jacket I had bought him at Costco on the way to the airport. It was the top half of a rain suit, perfect for English weather. The bottom half was safely stowed in his duffel bag and on its way to the belly of the giant air bus he was about to board.
"I'll be praying for you," I said. "You'll be okay. God's brought you this far..."
"Yeah," he said with quiet resolve. "I'm scared, but I'm still going…"
David had just finished his second year at Queen's University in Kingston. While at school that year, he learned about the opportunity to go to England for a study term and had thoroughly and carefully explored the possibility. He applied for a bursary to help with the cost and filled out all the forms on his own, calling us often for reassurance and affirmation that this idea was a good one. We talked to him about the difficulty someone on the autism spectrum would have getting through airport security, finding the right seat on the right plane, and then finding his way around a strange airport in a strange country and ending up, finally, at the right destination but where everything was new and there was no structure in place ahead of time. We thought it would be best if one of us traveled with him. David knew he needed some help, but he didn't need our help. Instead he approached Disability Services on the Queen’s campus and got the name of someone his own age who would also be going on the trip - someone who would watch out for David and was willing to provide any support he might need. "Peer support". He was identifying for himself what his needs were and building his own support system around himself. Yup, our Davie was growing up.
We met El-amin at the airport, just under a massive grey pillar marked "J" and next to the Air Canada counter. It was still half an hour before they could register for their boarding passes so we had a bit of time to get acquainted with him and his parents. Like me, they had come along to see their son off. El-amin was an only child, I soon found out from his lovely, doting mother. Her head was elegantly wrapped in a beautiful scarf. El-amin was very self-assured and told me that he was a philosophy major, just finishing his third year.
"Do you believe all that stuff they teach you?" I smiled at him.
He laughed in reply. "No, not any more. I did during my first year, but it didn't take long to realize that all these cool things that sound like the truth, can't all be the truth. You have to sort things through for yourself."
We visited for a while and then his friend Emily arrived who was also going on the study trip. She was just as friendly and accepting as El-amin. I stood and visited with her parents while the three students procured their boarding passes and then stood in line to check their baggage.
We parents were all excited and obviously apprehensive a little about sending our children across the ocean, even if it was just for six weeks. We exchanged stories and got to know each other a bit. El-amin and Emily soon led David through the baggage checking process and I was relieved to see them take his bag across the counter, having feared all this time that it was overweight and not knowing what we'd do if it was.
Rejoined by our children, we left the baggage checking area and drifted over to Gate 8, where we would be saying our final goodbyes. We were joined by a few other students who were on the same study trip and knew each other from school. We all hung together for a bit longer, looking at the planes out the window, and then suddenly everyone was hugging and kissing, and saying their farewells.
I couldn't believe what a warm and wonderful young man was El-amin. His parents told me that one of his jobs on campus was to welcome International students helping them to adjust to life in Canada on a strange campus. He seemed instinctively to have just the right idea of how much support David needed, while at the same time giving him enough space to maintain his self-esteem.
"C'mon, Dave. This way." El-amin and Emily waited for David to catch up before they all three disappeared behind the sliding doors where they would undergo their security checks. David turned to give me a characteristically stiff hug and then he was gone.
We parents all looked at each other, suddenly bereft of our children. I could see worry and concern behind their smiles and in the reassuring comments they made to one another.
"They'll be all right," they kept saying over, and over.
I had a sense that I wasn't quite fitting in to the situation somehow. I was actually feeling a bit guilty that I wasn't more worried - like these other parents so obviously were. Here was my kid with a fairly significant disability headed across the ocean for six weeks. Wouldn't a "good" parent show the same concern as these others? My kid has a disability and I wasn't worried. Yet, all the parents of these "typically developing" kids obviously were.
I thought about it as we all parted ways and I headed back to the parking garage, but it wasn't until I was telling the story to my friend Belinda on my cell phone on the way home that all my feelings began to gel. David had matured enough to realize what kind of support he would need, and took the steps to arrange for it himself. God had provided El-amin - and Emily – the perfect traveling companions for him and would he not meet all of his other needs as well? What did I have to worry about, really?
David is often overwhelmed with anxiety sometimes to the point of being temporarily incapacitated. He struggles in social situations. And he was headed for England. We, his parents, who had been the primary buffer between him and the rest of the world, were staying behind. But unlike the other parents in that terminal, I was confident my kid would know Who to call on in times of trouble when I'm not there. And I know exactly in Whose hands ultimately he is in.
Godspeed, Davy-boy!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Small C, Big P
Something's been bothering me. I've tried to push it to the back of my mind, primarily because of the pigs. But last night as I lay in bed trying to sleep it kept raising into my consciousness and even pigs swimming a synchronized ballet couldn't push it back. Nanny McPhee (small c big p).
Clearly I've changed between seeing the last one and the new one that's just opened. I loved, without qualification, the last one. I did this one too, for about a day. I laughed, like a delighted child, at the antics of the pigs and at the burping crow and at the pen stealing elephant. I liked the idea that children were learning lessons which were taught with magic and fun and love. I was thrilled by the cameo performances of some big stars, Fiennes deserves an Oscar for his few minutes on screen.
But.
Perhaps it's best to tell you a bit about the plot (no spoilers here). Nanny McPhee (small c big p) shows up and she's got a distinctive face. We're supposed to think it ugly. She's got moles, a unibrow, a thick nose and one tooth that escapes her mouth only to take rest on her lower lip. People make jokes about her appearance yet she goes happily on her way respected by all who know her. However, as the children learn their lessons she becomes more traditionally attractive, moles disappear, eyebrows separate, magic rhinoplasty alters her nose and so forth. By the end of the movie she has a traditionally beautiful and somewhat radiant face.
I was delighted to see her again when she showed up on the screen. I was delighted moles and all. Knowing who she was from the last film, I found myself liking that face - the first face. I already knew that she had a beautiful character and that character shone through her eyes and informed mine. When the moles began to disappear I was disturbed. I closed my eyes and wished them back but, no, they were gone. As she grew more conventionally attractive I grew more disenchanted with what I was seeing. I didn't NEED Nanny to change to find her beautiful. I didn't NEED her to be anything but 'Nanny In The First Place'.
I know, I know, films and literature constantly say, out loud, that beauty is only skin deep - but then most stories give a different message. Ugly is criminal, ugly is deviant, ugly is repulsive - it's beauty, not the beast, that is holy. Isn't it possible that attractiveness is about more than clear skin and sculptured brows? Isn't it possible that we as viewers, could have come to see her become magically more beautiful WITH moles - wouldn't that be more like the miracle of true transformation. That the appearance of beauty happens in the heart of the viewer rather than on the face of Nanny McPhee (small c big p).
Emma Thompson, the star of the film also wrote the film. I challenge her to make Nanny McPhee (small ... oh you get it by now) part 3 - but this time do something magical. Let her true beauty stand out - let her in dignity be 'Nanny With The First Face.' It's a face we already love - we don't need it different.
Clearly I've changed between seeing the last one and the new one that's just opened. I loved, without qualification, the last one. I did this one too, for about a day. I laughed, like a delighted child, at the antics of the pigs and at the burping crow and at the pen stealing elephant. I liked the idea that children were learning lessons which were taught with magic and fun and love. I was thrilled by the cameo performances of some big stars, Fiennes deserves an Oscar for his few minutes on screen.
But.
Perhaps it's best to tell you a bit about the plot (no spoilers here). Nanny McPhee (small c big p) shows up and she's got a distinctive face. We're supposed to think it ugly. She's got moles, a unibrow, a thick nose and one tooth that escapes her mouth only to take rest on her lower lip. People make jokes about her appearance yet she goes happily on her way respected by all who know her. However, as the children learn their lessons she becomes more traditionally attractive, moles disappear, eyebrows separate, magic rhinoplasty alters her nose and so forth. By the end of the movie she has a traditionally beautiful and somewhat radiant face.
I was delighted to see her again when she showed up on the screen. I was delighted moles and all. Knowing who she was from the last film, I found myself liking that face - the first face. I already knew that she had a beautiful character and that character shone through her eyes and informed mine. When the moles began to disappear I was disturbed. I closed my eyes and wished them back but, no, they were gone. As she grew more conventionally attractive I grew more disenchanted with what I was seeing. I didn't NEED Nanny to change to find her beautiful. I didn't NEED her to be anything but 'Nanny In The First Place'.
I know, I know, films and literature constantly say, out loud, that beauty is only skin deep - but then most stories give a different message. Ugly is criminal, ugly is deviant, ugly is repulsive - it's beauty, not the beast, that is holy. Isn't it possible that attractiveness is about more than clear skin and sculptured brows? Isn't it possible that we as viewers, could have come to see her become magically more beautiful WITH moles - wouldn't that be more like the miracle of true transformation. That the appearance of beauty happens in the heart of the viewer rather than on the face of Nanny McPhee (small c big p).
Emma Thompson, the star of the film also wrote the film. I challenge her to make Nanny McPhee (small ... oh you get it by now) part 3 - but this time do something magical. Let her true beauty stand out - let her in dignity be 'Nanny With The First Face.' It's a face we already love - we don't need it different.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The People Who 'ARE'
It's in the press again. I search to find out the context of the word. I see debates all over the web, people bemoaning the 'politically correct' and the 'word police' and making ridiculous claims about having to ban the concept of a 'fire retardant'. Last I looked there's never been a protest about products that protect from fire. Last I looked there's only ever been protests about the use of a word that demeans a group of people.
No matter what the fearless defenders of freedom of speech say, there is a huge difference between a word to describe something that slows fire and someone who learns differently. There's a huge difference between a thing and a person - but, no, maybe not. After reading their diatribes regarding their freedom to spit out hurtful words, they may, really, not see people with disabilities as fully human with a human heart capable human hurt.
People mock the concept of respectful language regarding disability. People make odd arguments about the latest gaffe by ... no, I won't say her name here ... they say 'she was saying that of herself not anyone else' - um, so? The word she used was one referring, not to a commercial product, but to an oppressed minority. Yet the debate rages on and the fierceness of the attack by those who are proponents of the use of hate language are both hysterical and who often purposely miss the point. One wonders what's at stake - their personal liberty to hurt others?
It's time to recognize that the 'R' word is an attack against who people with with intellectual disabilities 'are', it is an attack against the group that they belong to. It is like other words that exist to slur an entire people, unacceptable. The fact that people do not see the seriousness of the word and the attack it represents is simply a result of the fact that they do not take the 'people' who wear that label seriously. The concerns of those with intellectual disabilities have always been diminished and trivialized. There is a sneaking suspicion that they 'don't understand, poor dears', that they 'miss the point, little lambs' so therefore their anger need not be feared as justified.
The people who 'ARE' what the 'R' word refers to have a long history.
They have been torn from families and cast into institutions.
They have been beaten, hosed down, over medicated, under nourished, sterilized, brutalized, victimized.
They have been held captive, have been enslaved, have had their being given over to the state.
They are the group in society most likely to be physically, sexually and financially abused.
They are the group least likely to see justice, experience fair play, receive accommodation or support within the justice system.
They are the group most likely to be bullied, most likely to be tyrannized, most likely to be the target of taunts.
They are the least likely to have their hurt taken seriously, physical hurt, emotional hurt, spiritual hurt.
They are most likely to be ignored when they speak of pain, have their words diminished by an assumption of diminished capacity.
They are the least likely to ever be seen as equal, as equivalent and entirely whole.
They are the victim of some of the most widespread and pervasive prejudices imaginable.
They are those that the Nazi's thought unworthy of life, they are those targeted by geneticists for non-existence, they need fear those who wear black hats and those who wear white coats.
They are educated only under protest, they are included as a concession rather than a right, they are neighbours only because petitions failed to keep them out.
They are kept from the leadership of their own movement, they are ignored by the media, their stories are told to glorify Gods that they do not worship.
That they are a 'people' is questioned even though they have a unique history, a unique voice, a unique perception of the world.
That they are a 'community' is questioned even though they have commonality, they have mutual goals, they have a collective vision of the future.
That they are have a legitimate place at the table is questioned simply because no one's ever offered a seat.
They are a people.
They ask for respect and receive pity.
They ask for fair play and are offered charity.
They ask for justice and wipe spittle off their face.
They ask to silence words that brutalize them and their concerns are trivialized.
They ask to walk safely through their communities and yet bullies go unpunished.
They ask to participate fully and they are denied access and accommodation and acceptance.
And this is NOW.
This is the people who have walked the land of the long corridor, who have waited at the frontier of our bias to finally be here, now. They have survived. They have come home. They have continued, silently and without fanfare, to take hold of freedom and live with dignity. They have given everything they have for what others take for granted. Their civil liberties are perceived as 'gifts' as 'tokens' and as 'charity'. Their rights are seen as privileges. Their movement is, as of yet, unacknowledged. They are a people recently emancipated, new citizens, who are tentatively discovering their voice.
It is a voice not yet heard.
It is a voice not yet respected.
It is a voice not yet understood.
But it is speaking.
And when it is finally heard. The world will change.
The 'R' word is an attack on a people who know discrimination. Tremble when you say it. Because those who should know better will be held accountable to those who know best.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Battle!
Three days ago we went to our local grocery, which had just opened after going through a several month closure due to renovations, and I noticed something slightly odd and yet wildly infuriating. They have 7 or 8 checkout aisles, one of which is designated as a wheelchair lane. It's a lovely lane for me especially when I am in my power wheelchair. I'm wide, it's wider, the lane is widest - a lovely fit wouldn't you say. It's so much better than what they had before. So, anyways, back to being annoyed - which through a mammoth act of will I manage NOT to be all the time. They had all the aisles open, that's ALL of them, except the wide wheelchair aisle.
Now it doesn't take a lot of deep thought or even a strategic plan to figure out that if only one is open it should be the aisle that EVERYONE can use. But, no, they were all open EXCEPT the one that everyone could use. I ask to speak to a manager. He comes out. How do people that young get to be managers, he seemed be be seven days older than sperm. Anyways I talk to him and explain the principle of access for all and that if one lane is open it should the the one that everyone can use. He nods gravely and says, 'I'll get that fixed by the afternoon.' This was first thing in the morning and it was going to take him several hours to move a cashier from one terminal to another. I nodded stupidly because I was at a loss for anything else to say. He did promise me though that from that day forward the accessible aisle would be open. OK.
So we go back today after lunching with a friend. We'd had a lovely time at lunch, laughing, talking, and solving the problems of the world. So we went shopping with a lovely feeling of having had good food and better conversation. Arriving at the store I see ALL the aisles open except the ONE for ALL. I ask to speak to the manager, hoping against hope that I was going to get the same guy so I could yell. But the only manager on was the grocery manager. He came over to speak to me and I pointed out the 'problem'. I asked, 'Is this the store's way of communicating to people with disabilities that you'd rather we not shop here?' He assured me it was an oversight. I told him that I'd already made this comment to the manager a couple days before.
He had the aisle open within a few minutes and I was able to both shop and check out.
You know what kind of pisses me off. There are so many bigger battles for us, as people with disabilities to fight, that we shouldn't be worn down by stating the obvious to the oblivious. We shouldn't have to whittle common sense to a point at one end and then use a mallet to smash into the ears of those who neither think or, it seems, listen. We should be fighting the big battles of rampant un and under employment of people with disabilities, the rampant physical, sexual and financial abuse of people with disabilities, the constant nasty remarks of friends like Jennifer Anniston. We have big battles but we also have strong wills and loud voices - but we grow weak and hoarse trying to pay for our freaking groceries.
Sometimes I simply despair ....
Now it doesn't take a lot of deep thought or even a strategic plan to figure out that if only one is open it should be the aisle that EVERYONE can use. But, no, they were all open EXCEPT the one that everyone could use. I ask to speak to a manager. He comes out. How do people that young get to be managers, he seemed be be seven days older than sperm. Anyways I talk to him and explain the principle of access for all and that if one lane is open it should the the one that everyone can use. He nods gravely and says, 'I'll get that fixed by the afternoon.' This was first thing in the morning and it was going to take him several hours to move a cashier from one terminal to another. I nodded stupidly because I was at a loss for anything else to say. He did promise me though that from that day forward the accessible aisle would be open. OK.
So we go back today after lunching with a friend. We'd had a lovely time at lunch, laughing, talking, and solving the problems of the world. So we went shopping with a lovely feeling of having had good food and better conversation. Arriving at the store I see ALL the aisles open except the ONE for ALL. I ask to speak to the manager, hoping against hope that I was going to get the same guy so I could yell. But the only manager on was the grocery manager. He came over to speak to me and I pointed out the 'problem'. I asked, 'Is this the store's way of communicating to people with disabilities that you'd rather we not shop here?' He assured me it was an oversight. I told him that I'd already made this comment to the manager a couple days before.
He had the aisle open within a few minutes and I was able to both shop and check out.
You know what kind of pisses me off. There are so many bigger battles for us, as people with disabilities to fight, that we shouldn't be worn down by stating the obvious to the oblivious. We shouldn't have to whittle common sense to a point at one end and then use a mallet to smash into the ears of those who neither think or, it seems, listen. We should be fighting the big battles of rampant un and under employment of people with disabilities, the rampant physical, sexual and financial abuse of people with disabilities, the constant nasty remarks of friends like Jennifer Anniston. We have big battles but we also have strong wills and loud voices - but we grow weak and hoarse trying to pay for our freaking groceries.
Sometimes I simply despair ....
Saturday, August 21, 2010
A Blog For A Slow Day
I get asked a lot of questions about being in a wheelchair. The most common is about my gloves. Why do I wear them? Is there something wrong with my hands too? Wouldn't things be easier if I didn't wear gloves because then I wouldn't have to take them on and off, this one is usually asked, impatiently, when I take my gloves off in a line to pay and then put them back on when I leave.
In all my borne days I would never have thought that gloves were such a conversation starter. Too, I find it interesting that people will just out and ask me questions about something that could be personal without a moments thought about intrusion into my day. No one ever, that's not ever, asked me anything about my clothing before I sat down in a wheelchair. But nonetheless, gloves seem to be a curiosity.
So for those desperately wondering. I wear gloves for the same reason you wear shoes. For transportation, for protection and for comfort. I also use them for brakes. I use them when I want to accelerate. They aren't, though fashionable, a fashion accessory.
All this is in aide of telling you, especially those who push their own chairs, about these gloves I found. I'm on my 5th or 6th pair of gloves since I started using a chair. When my last pair ran out I was in the States so we stopped at a Wallmart (sorry) and I went looking. I found these wellslamont gloves. I tried them out in the store and it was awesome. My grip on the wheel is stronger, my ability to brake is increased to the point that I can go down really steep grades. They are perfect for wheelchair use.
I bought a set in every colour. They are really durable and I think they'll last me at least several years. So bring on the hills. Bring on the long stretches. I'm set to go ...
"Hey, so why do you wear gloves?"
And odd question, don't you think, from someone wearing shoes.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Hair Today
Here's something weird.
I have to go get a haircut this afternoon. I go to a barbershop a couple blocks from home. The first time I went there I got my hair cut by a woman who did an OK job. Just OK. Now, I don't have much hair, so OK isn't really good enough. But now, every time I go there she insists to the other barbers that she alone is my barber. I'd really like one of the others to have a go but don't have the gumption to say so. Without a doubt, today, I will get an 'OK' hair cut.
Yet I'm the guy who writes politicians and 'letters to the editor' and makes phone calls to assert my point of view. To me that's much easier than saying, 'I'd rather someone else cut my hair.' I don't know why that is ... I can't even imagine saying that to her. I don't want to hurt her feelings even though I don't like her work. Like I'm sure she spends any time worried about me at all!
Assertion is a funny, funny, thing. For me it's easier to assert myself over an issue or a point of view than it is for something personal. It's easier to protest over the treatment of someone else than it is about the treatment I get. In fact some of those on the 'other side of the issue' might find me a bit of a bulldog when it comes to sparring over an issue. I admit, it's true, I can be pretty passionate about what I believe - I just can't do it with a barber! I'm sure some of you readers are the same way.
So barring going to another barber shop entirely - which is hard because I go where I go because it's the only accessible shop that doesn't charge me an outrageous fee, I'm getting the same cut from the same barber. Some of the places near me charge 30 bucks for a hair cut - that's, like, 25 cents a hair. I tried negotiating at one place and the fellow looked down at me, which happens a lot when you are in a wheelchair - both literally and figuratively, and said, 'We do quality work.' Well, yeah but cutting an acre lawn is surely more expensive than trimming a postage stamp yard.
Oh well, today is hair cutting day.
And if nothing else, I got a blog out of it.
I have to go get a haircut this afternoon. I go to a barbershop a couple blocks from home. The first time I went there I got my hair cut by a woman who did an OK job. Just OK. Now, I don't have much hair, so OK isn't really good enough. But now, every time I go there she insists to the other barbers that she alone is my barber. I'd really like one of the others to have a go but don't have the gumption to say so. Without a doubt, today, I will get an 'OK' hair cut.
Yet I'm the guy who writes politicians and 'letters to the editor' and makes phone calls to assert my point of view. To me that's much easier than saying, 'I'd rather someone else cut my hair.' I don't know why that is ... I can't even imagine saying that to her. I don't want to hurt her feelings even though I don't like her work. Like I'm sure she spends any time worried about me at all!
Assertion is a funny, funny, thing. For me it's easier to assert myself over an issue or a point of view than it is for something personal. It's easier to protest over the treatment of someone else than it is about the treatment I get. In fact some of those on the 'other side of the issue' might find me a bit of a bulldog when it comes to sparring over an issue. I admit, it's true, I can be pretty passionate about what I believe - I just can't do it with a barber! I'm sure some of you readers are the same way.
So barring going to another barber shop entirely - which is hard because I go where I go because it's the only accessible shop that doesn't charge me an outrageous fee, I'm getting the same cut from the same barber. Some of the places near me charge 30 bucks for a hair cut - that's, like, 25 cents a hair. I tried negotiating at one place and the fellow looked down at me, which happens a lot when you are in a wheelchair - both literally and figuratively, and said, 'We do quality work.' Well, yeah but cutting an acre lawn is surely more expensive than trimming a postage stamp yard.
Oh well, today is hair cutting day.
And if nothing else, I got a blog out of it.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Breaking News
I'm sitting here crying.
Actually crying.
I just went to the Ford on Ford website and the postcard using the 'r' word is gone.
Gone.
This means ... we've won.
I've not heard anything from the Smitherman camp about the postcard being removed. In fact I checked an hour ago it was still there, then just before bed I checked and it's gone.
I've said, 'Change is the only apology that matters.'
So Smitherman and his team, I accept.
I know that what they were trying to do was highlight the kind of statements that a fellow candidate has made in his career. I know that it's difficult to educate about prejudice without demonstrating it. I know all that. However some words are beyond tolerable. Slurs against an entire people belong in that category.
It is important here to acknowledge the support of Rolling Around in My Head readers. I also want to especially thank Vita Community Living Services and Special Olympics Ontario for weighing in with powerful letters of support. It takes courage to stand and be counted. You all did. These agencies did. Rah you. Rah us.
We, as disabled people, as allies of disabled people, need to continue to use our voice productively and creatively. We need to discover the power we have as a community and as a movement. People have often said that those of us with disabilities had to discover voice, I disagree, we have always had voice. It's just that others needed to discover their ears.
George Smitherman and his team discovered theirs.
And for that I am well pleased.
People are safer right now than they were only short minutes ago.
I'm still crying.
Actually crying.
I just went to the Ford on Ford website and the postcard using the 'r' word is gone.
Gone.
This means ... we've won.
I've not heard anything from the Smitherman camp about the postcard being removed. In fact I checked an hour ago it was still there, then just before bed I checked and it's gone.
I've said, 'Change is the only apology that matters.'
So Smitherman and his team, I accept.
I know that what they were trying to do was highlight the kind of statements that a fellow candidate has made in his career. I know that it's difficult to educate about prejudice without demonstrating it. I know all that. However some words are beyond tolerable. Slurs against an entire people belong in that category.
It is important here to acknowledge the support of Rolling Around in My Head readers. I also want to especially thank Vita Community Living Services and Special Olympics Ontario for weighing in with powerful letters of support. It takes courage to stand and be counted. You all did. These agencies did. Rah you. Rah us.
We, as disabled people, as allies of disabled people, need to continue to use our voice productively and creatively. We need to discover the power we have as a community and as a movement. People have often said that those of us with disabilities had to discover voice, I disagree, we have always had voice. It's just that others needed to discover their ears.
George Smitherman and his team discovered theirs.
And for that I am well pleased.
People are safer right now than they were only short minutes ago.
I'm still crying.
God's Gone Out for a ...
We were driving home on a beautiful, sunny, breezy and cool afternoon. Work had gone extremely well and I was feeling good in that 'worked hard' and 'achieved much' kind of way you do sometimes. Too, the windows were down and we had music playing, we were just a couple of dudes driving through the city. We came to a stop at a pedestrian crosswalk, a zebra crossing as the Brits would have it, and a young woman began a slow journey across the street.
She walked carefully, as if she'd fallen before and wasn't intending to repeat the experience, but she also walked with the clear purpose of crossing the street without holding traffic up any longer than necessary. About half way cross she was tiring and we saw her slow. I felt the breeze on my arm and I smiled at her, knowing she couldn't see me, but I wanted to add a smile to the mix. I love people with disabilities who still do what they want to do in the way that they do it. Like every act sometimes is both an act of politics and and act of poetry at the same time.
Now the guy in the very tall vehicle next to us, was fuming and getting more impatient with the moment. He reved his engine a couple of times to let everyone know of his growing anger. He must have been a vitally important person and he must have had a vitally important destination. A couple of times his truck seemed to almost buck as if the engine itself was tired of waiting for some careful and slow walking pedestrian.
I looked at his angry face and thought to myself, "I wonder why God gave up smoting? Perhaps for His health?'
When she reached the other side he squealed tires and shot across the intersection, I screamed because I saw her almost topple backwards into a horrible fall as the sudden sound took her by surprise. But she grabbed hold and stayed upright. Joe was stunned and took a few seconds to regroup and then pressed the petal.
We turned the corner onto Davenport and what to our wondering eyes did appear? A flashing light, a police officer, and the truck parked quietly off to the side of the road.
Sometimes the world rights itself.
She walked carefully, as if she'd fallen before and wasn't intending to repeat the experience, but she also walked with the clear purpose of crossing the street without holding traffic up any longer than necessary. About half way cross she was tiring and we saw her slow. I felt the breeze on my arm and I smiled at her, knowing she couldn't see me, but I wanted to add a smile to the mix. I love people with disabilities who still do what they want to do in the way that they do it. Like every act sometimes is both an act of politics and and act of poetry at the same time.
Now the guy in the very tall vehicle next to us, was fuming and getting more impatient with the moment. He reved his engine a couple of times to let everyone know of his growing anger. He must have been a vitally important person and he must have had a vitally important destination. A couple of times his truck seemed to almost buck as if the engine itself was tired of waiting for some careful and slow walking pedestrian.
I looked at his angry face and thought to myself, "I wonder why God gave up smoting? Perhaps for His health?'
When she reached the other side he squealed tires and shot across the intersection, I screamed because I saw her almost topple backwards into a horrible fall as the sudden sound took her by surprise. But she grabbed hold and stayed upright. Joe was stunned and took a few seconds to regroup and then pressed the petal.
We turned the corner onto Davenport and what to our wondering eyes did appear? A flashing light, a police officer, and the truck parked quietly off to the side of the road.
Sometimes the world rights itself.
Campaign Update: A Three Minute Protest
Note: for those late to the party ... the Smitherman has taken down the offensive post card. See update.
I don't want readers to keep coming back only to read what's going on with the word 'r&tard' coming out of candidate Ford's mouth and ending up in candidate's Smitherman's material. So I will update as I can. I did hear from the Smitherman people who assure me they do not endorse the word they are just educating people about Ford's character. They cannot and do not seem to be able to understand the concern about perpetuating the use of the word ... oh well.
So, I have another idea, go to the Ford on Ford site, click to send one of the post cards, click again on the offensive post card, which is called 'signs' and send it back to Smitherman at info@georgesmitherman.ca with the message: Please remove this from the website. As I see it the website encourages people to send the email, why not send it back to him. Almost done now go back and send one to Rob Ford at rob@robfordformayor.ca and ask him to apologize and .'take the pledge' not to use the word again. This takes less than 3 minutes to do! (You know how I know!) Let's get the message across in a different way as letters have not seemed to work. Just note here in the comment section that you've done it please.
Also, the winner of last year's Best Disability Blogger in Canada, has written a new post on the topic of leadership. Drop by and visit her. Thanks
I don't want readers to keep coming back only to read what's going on with the word 'r&tard' coming out of candidate Ford's mouth and ending up in candidate's Smitherman's material. So I will update as I can. I did hear from the Smitherman people who assure me they do not endorse the word they are just educating people about Ford's character. They cannot and do not seem to be able to understand the concern about perpetuating the use of the word ... oh well.
So, I have another idea, go to the Ford on Ford site, click to send one of the post cards, click again on the offensive post card, which is called 'signs' and send it back to Smitherman at info@georgesmitherman.ca with the message: Please remove this from the website. As I see it the website encourages people to send the email, why not send it back to him. Almost done now go back and send one to Rob Ford at rob@robfordformayor.ca and ask him to apologize and .'take the pledge' not to use the word again. This takes less than 3 minutes to do! (You know how I know!) Let's get the message across in a different way as letters have not seemed to work. Just note here in the comment section that you've done it please.
Also, the winner of last year's Best Disability Blogger in Canada, has written a new post on the topic of leadership. Drop by and visit her. Thanks
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Doubt and Reassurance
Sometimes, even with the affirmation of you out in blog land, I wonder if I'm over sensitive and tinge my opinions with self-righteousness. I don't want to be 'that guy'. I was thinking about my letters to politicians, my blog posts, my calls to others for help. I had just hung up from speaking with Special Olympics Ontario who were eager to participate in the campaign to demand public apology from one politician and a retraction of an electronic postcard with hateful language from another. I had a stunning moment of self doubt.
I remembered I wanted to pick up a book at the bookstore. I headed into the store and was steering carefully by a row of shoppers sitting and reading. One of them was a young man with a very pleasant face who was sitting looking like he was waiting for someone. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It took me a second to register. He was wearing a lime-green plastic bracelet, the kind that is used for both fundraising and awareness. A few feet later, it struck me ...
As Vita was gearing up the 'Words Hit' campaign we had some bracelets made up so that we could give them out at events like the Pride parade and eventually make them available on our website. The colour was suspiciously like the one the young man was wearing. It couldn't be ...
So I drove by a couple times, probably looking like a stalker so I pulled up to him and said, 'I notice you are wearing a bracelet,' before I could continue he began to speak. He told me that he'd got the bracelet at the Gay Pride march. I was thrilled that he could say that out loud, in public, without embarrassment or fear of reprisal, we've come a long way. He further told me that his younger sister has Down Syndrome and that he discovered that she was being brutally teased by other kids at school and that he wore it for her.
As we talked it was clear how much he loved his sister. He had been surprised, thinking everyone saw her as he did, that she was a victim of such verbal abuse. She was so concerned about her family that she never told them. He discovered it when he surprised her at school, waiting to pick her up. What he saw astonished him. They've had many discussions and he showed her the bracelet, she is thrilled he's wearing it.
Sometimes I doubt myself but then I remember ...
Words Hit
Like a Fist
I remembered I wanted to pick up a book at the bookstore. I headed into the store and was steering carefully by a row of shoppers sitting and reading. One of them was a young man with a very pleasant face who was sitting looking like he was waiting for someone. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It took me a second to register. He was wearing a lime-green plastic bracelet, the kind that is used for both fundraising and awareness. A few feet later, it struck me ...
As Vita was gearing up the 'Words Hit' campaign we had some bracelets made up so that we could give them out at events like the Pride parade and eventually make them available on our website. The colour was suspiciously like the one the young man was wearing. It couldn't be ...
So I drove by a couple times, probably looking like a stalker so I pulled up to him and said, 'I notice you are wearing a bracelet,' before I could continue he began to speak. He told me that he'd got the bracelet at the Gay Pride march. I was thrilled that he could say that out loud, in public, without embarrassment or fear of reprisal, we've come a long way. He further told me that his younger sister has Down Syndrome and that he discovered that she was being brutally teased by other kids at school and that he wore it for her.
As we talked it was clear how much he loved his sister. He had been surprised, thinking everyone saw her as he did, that she was a victim of such verbal abuse. She was so concerned about her family that she never told them. He discovered it when he surprised her at school, waiting to pick her up. What he saw astonished him. They've had many discussions and he showed her the bracelet, she is thrilled he's wearing it.
Sometimes I doubt myself but then I remember ...
Words Hit
Like a Fist
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Insincere And Their Tricks
Note: the Smitherman campaign has removed the offensive postcard so hate will no longer be a click away. Ford, however, has not publicly apologized for what he said. It's now 10 to 3 in Smitherman's favour.
Trick Number One:
Have you ever had an argument with someone who said something hurtful and they ended up saying, 'I'm sorry if what I said offended you.' Doesn't that just piss you off? It's kind of like a passive way of accusing you of being oversensitive and then drawing attention to the fact that they are big enough to apologize for bruising your fragile feelings. I overheard someone once call me a 'fat pig' in another language, I knew the expression and when I called them on it they said, 'I'm sorry if that hurt you.' Um, and you expected it wouldn't? So you can be outrageously hurtful and then be surprised that something said to hurt actually did hurt. Hmmmmm. So that's an apology? A lovely trick. Apology without apology and no commitment to change. As it has been said, 'Change is the only apology that means anything.'
Here's what Rob Ford said in his letter to Joe (he's not apologized to me): If you were offended by my comments, I apologize.
Um, Rob, I'd rather you commit to change and pledge to refrain from hurting us further.
Trick Number Two:
The next big trick is to diminish the offense by pretending to be a maverick and passionate and accidentally stumbling into the politically incorrect. I love how you can diminish your act by changing verbal abuse, the use of what many people with disabilities consider hate speech and an act of bullying into something 'politically incorrect'. Don't shine my shoes with shit! Calling names is known by 4 years olds to be wrong. Four year olds don't come running into the house screaming, 'Robby was politically incorrect to me.' No, they say, 'Robby HURT MY FEELINGS.' Being a maverick, being outspoken, is not diminished by refusing to use racist, sexist, homophobic or disphobic language.
Here's what Rob Ford said to Joe: I have always been an outspoken Councillor while doing my best to stand up for the people of Toronto, and occasionally I have said things that weren't politically correct.
Um, Rob, people with disabilities are part of 'people' and yes, they live in Toronto.
Your statement in the letter that you have respect and empathy for people with disabilities is completely lost when you diminish our concerns.
Trick Number 3: Talking? Is someone talking?
As to the Smitherman camp. Not a single email. At least Ford had the gumption to answer Joe's and many of yours, to me he said, 'I read your blog, you do good work' or something such. As I didn't hear from Smitherman's office, I called them. I talked to two women one of which said that she understood my point.
Um, Smitherman, get your people to answer emails. Um, Smitherman people, if you understood my point you might be moved to action.
So here's the score ...
Ford, I'm awarding one point for answering his emails. I'm awarding another point for an attempt at apology. I'm awarding a final point for reading the blog.
Smitherman, I'd like to give a point to the nice woman I talked to but since I had to call to get someone to call me back - and even then they hadn't read the emails or the blog that outlined the issue, I can't in all fairness.
So for handling the issue thus far:
Ford: 3 points
Smitherman: 0 points
Vita Community Living Services has sent out an open letter to the candidates and to the media and I have spoken to some organizations who will be weighing in on this and joining our protest. Again, we want apology and promise from Ford, we want the postcard removed and an apology from Smitherman.
Blog readers, it's not to late to join in. Write a letter, write a blog, if you work for a service organization get them to write something ... the addresses are in yesterday's blog.
Trick Number One:
Have you ever had an argument with someone who said something hurtful and they ended up saying, 'I'm sorry if what I said offended you.' Doesn't that just piss you off? It's kind of like a passive way of accusing you of being oversensitive and then drawing attention to the fact that they are big enough to apologize for bruising your fragile feelings. I overheard someone once call me a 'fat pig' in another language, I knew the expression and when I called them on it they said, 'I'm sorry if that hurt you.' Um, and you expected it wouldn't? So you can be outrageously hurtful and then be surprised that something said to hurt actually did hurt. Hmmmmm. So that's an apology? A lovely trick. Apology without apology and no commitment to change. As it has been said, 'Change is the only apology that means anything.'
Here's what Rob Ford said in his letter to Joe (he's not apologized to me): If you were offended by my comments, I apologize.
Um, Rob, I'd rather you commit to change and pledge to refrain from hurting us further.
Trick Number Two:
The next big trick is to diminish the offense by pretending to be a maverick and passionate and accidentally stumbling into the politically incorrect. I love how you can diminish your act by changing verbal abuse, the use of what many people with disabilities consider hate speech and an act of bullying into something 'politically incorrect'. Don't shine my shoes with shit! Calling names is known by 4 years olds to be wrong. Four year olds don't come running into the house screaming, 'Robby was politically incorrect to me.' No, they say, 'Robby HURT MY FEELINGS.' Being a maverick, being outspoken, is not diminished by refusing to use racist, sexist, homophobic or disphobic language.
Here's what Rob Ford said to Joe: I have always been an outspoken Councillor while doing my best to stand up for the people of Toronto, and occasionally I have said things that weren't politically correct.
Um, Rob, people with disabilities are part of 'people' and yes, they live in Toronto.
Your statement in the letter that you have respect and empathy for people with disabilities is completely lost when you diminish our concerns.
Trick Number 3: Talking? Is someone talking?
As to the Smitherman camp. Not a single email. At least Ford had the gumption to answer Joe's and many of yours, to me he said, 'I read your blog, you do good work' or something such. As I didn't hear from Smitherman's office, I called them. I talked to two women one of which said that she understood my point.
Um, Smitherman, get your people to answer emails. Um, Smitherman people, if you understood my point you might be moved to action.
So here's the score ...
Ford, I'm awarding one point for answering his emails. I'm awarding another point for an attempt at apology. I'm awarding a final point for reading the blog.
Smitherman, I'd like to give a point to the nice woman I talked to but since I had to call to get someone to call me back - and even then they hadn't read the emails or the blog that outlined the issue, I can't in all fairness.
So for handling the issue thus far:
Ford: 3 points
Smitherman: 0 points
Vita Community Living Services has sent out an open letter to the candidates and to the media and I have spoken to some organizations who will be weighing in on this and joining our protest. Again, we want apology and promise from Ford, we want the postcard removed and an apology from Smitherman.
Blog readers, it's not to late to join in. Write a letter, write a blog, if you work for a service organization get them to write something ... the addresses are in yesterday's blog.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Outrage Out Loud
Note: I see from my stats that this post is being hit a lot due to Facebookers. Thanks for whomever is promoting my work. Just a note, however, that the postcard on the Smitherman FordonFord site has been removed. They have acted. Ford, however, still has not apologized publicly for his use of the word. Read on to see what the fuss has been about.
Warning: This post will be using a quote that includes the 'r' word. It is done only for the purposes of information and without the intent of promulgating the use of the word.
Toronto is less safe for people with intellectual disabilities now that people with disabilities are being defamed as part of the mayoralty campaign. I was innocently watching the news when a poster filled the screen. The poster had a picture of candidate Rob Ford beside a word bubble which said: You’d have to be retarded if you can’t see frickin’ water in front of you. I was brought up short. My heart started to pound and my teeth clenched. The 'R' word has a profound and negative impact on me emotionally.
I've always hated that word, or rather, the use of that word in hateful ways for the purpose of devaluing others. It's a word that is an attack on who people with intellectual disabilities are as individuals and an attack on the minority constituency to which they belong. It's a word that is outrageously harmful and it is used, no matter what people say, with full knowledge and intent. That the word hurts others has also been clearly stated by people with intellectual disabilities themselves, by their families and by the organizations that provide them support. This is not news.
At Vita Community Living Services, we were issued a challenge by our self advocate group. We were asked what we were going to do to make the community safer, to make the community a place where they could go without fear of hearing the 'r' word tossed about. We responded by creating a campaign wherein we distributed the words hit cards to all our members and all our staff, eventually we distributed them to self advocate groups and organizations around the world. We wanted to actively engage those who used the word. Further we developed a version of the card for Gay Pride where we marched for the first time. Our goal was both to confront those who use the word as well as to begin to build unity with other groups who have experienced negative taunts out of the mouths of bigots.
Then comes the campaign for the mayor's seat and because we live in modern times the discussion and debate has become nasty. The George Smitherman camp has decided to use words out of the mouth of candidate Rob Ford to bring him down. As such they created a website with electronic postcards that contain various quotes from the public record said by Rob Ford on various issues. One of the quotes uses the word 'retarded' in reference to signage. This campaign was everywhere. I saw it in the newspapers, I saw it on television, I easily found it on the web. I actually sent the electronic postcard to Manuela, Vita's Executive Director, both so she could see it as well as to find out how easy it is to simply forward this kind of hateful stuff onwards - it's easy.
I was angered.
At Rob Ford for using the word in this manner.
At George Smitherman for choosing this quote to highlight and as a result making the 'r' word so visible, so public, so accessible.
I was angered.
By the media for not bringing a disability perspective to the story. I can't imagine the media, had another word been used to disparage another minority, not interviewing or speaking to spokespeople wounded or damaged by that word.
I think Ford and Smitherman and even the Toronto media believe that we are a passive minority that might be offended but that will be silent. I think that all of us who have justifiable outrage at Ford's use of the word and Smitherman's promulgation of the word will simply shake our heads and go quietly away.
No more silence.
I immediately wrote both Ford and Smitherman. I demanded that Ford apologize for his use of the word and that he 'take the pledge' not to use the word again in that manner. I demanded that Smitherman take that electronic postcard off the site, apologize for choosing that quote and 'take the pledge'. I, of course, have heard nothing back from either side.
Here's where you come into the picture. I have a large daily readership. Many of you are faithful commenters. I would like you to take just five minutes from your day and contact both Ford and Smitherman and if you have time also a note to City Television which has a popular news programme here in Toronto. I'd also ask that you leave a comment here in the comment section to let me know that you've done this. It's a lot to ask. But we have to start using the muscle of our numbers and the motivation of our anger to make our voices heard. Don't worry if you are from outside of Toronto or outside of Canada, the international movement against the 'r word' needs to been seen, felt and most importantly heard. I have this wonderful image of those of you who live in parts of the world that are reading this just after publishing at midnight here in Toronto immediately writing letters, I imagine the Ford and Smitherman people openning their emails in the morning to discover international outrage. I imagine and I hope.
For those of you who have a personal blog, disability themed or not, who are looking for something to blog about, please join in and maybe we can blogswarm this topic. It's inappropriate for public figures to speak disparagingly of any member of the disability community. If you do blog about this, put the link in the comments so we can all visit and get a sense of the length and breadth of our community.
Here's how you get in touch:
Rob Ford who used the word:
Campaign Address
245 Dixon Road
Toronto, Ontario
M9P 3T4
Phone: 416.628.8576
E-mail: rob@robfordformayor.ca
The George Smitherman Campaign who is distributing the quote containing the word:
70 The Esplanade, Suite 201
Toronto, ON
M5E 1R2
T. 416.342.9674
E. info@georgesmitherman.ca
To a media outlet in Toronto:
news.to@citynews.ca
The world needs to be made safe for all - and we are finally realizing that we are part of 'all'.
Thanks 'y'all' for reading, for writing, for protesting, for expressing outrage.
Outrage OutLoud!
Warning: This post will be using a quote that includes the 'r' word. It is done only for the purposes of information and without the intent of promulgating the use of the word.
Toronto is less safe for people with intellectual disabilities now that people with disabilities are being defamed as part of the mayoralty campaign. I was innocently watching the news when a poster filled the screen. The poster had a picture of candidate Rob Ford beside a word bubble which said: You’d have to be retarded if you can’t see frickin’ water in front of you. I was brought up short. My heart started to pound and my teeth clenched. The 'R' word has a profound and negative impact on me emotionally.
I've always hated that word, or rather, the use of that word in hateful ways for the purpose of devaluing others. It's a word that is an attack on who people with intellectual disabilities are as individuals and an attack on the minority constituency to which they belong. It's a word that is outrageously harmful and it is used, no matter what people say, with full knowledge and intent. That the word hurts others has also been clearly stated by people with intellectual disabilities themselves, by their families and by the organizations that provide them support. This is not news.
At Vita Community Living Services, we were issued a challenge by our self advocate group. We were asked what we were going to do to make the community safer, to make the community a place where they could go without fear of hearing the 'r' word tossed about. We responded by creating a campaign wherein we distributed the words hit cards to all our members and all our staff, eventually we distributed them to self advocate groups and organizations around the world. We wanted to actively engage those who used the word. Further we developed a version of the card for Gay Pride where we marched for the first time. Our goal was both to confront those who use the word as well as to begin to build unity with other groups who have experienced negative taunts out of the mouths of bigots.
Then comes the campaign for the mayor's seat and because we live in modern times the discussion and debate has become nasty. The George Smitherman camp has decided to use words out of the mouth of candidate Rob Ford to bring him down. As such they created a website with electronic postcards that contain various quotes from the public record said by Rob Ford on various issues. One of the quotes uses the word 'retarded' in reference to signage. This campaign was everywhere. I saw it in the newspapers, I saw it on television, I easily found it on the web. I actually sent the electronic postcard to Manuela, Vita's Executive Director, both so she could see it as well as to find out how easy it is to simply forward this kind of hateful stuff onwards - it's easy.
I was angered.
At Rob Ford for using the word in this manner.
At George Smitherman for choosing this quote to highlight and as a result making the 'r' word so visible, so public, so accessible.
I was angered.
By the media for not bringing a disability perspective to the story. I can't imagine the media, had another word been used to disparage another minority, not interviewing or speaking to spokespeople wounded or damaged by that word.
I think Ford and Smitherman and even the Toronto media believe that we are a passive minority that might be offended but that will be silent. I think that all of us who have justifiable outrage at Ford's use of the word and Smitherman's promulgation of the word will simply shake our heads and go quietly away.
No more silence.
I immediately wrote both Ford and Smitherman. I demanded that Ford apologize for his use of the word and that he 'take the pledge' not to use the word again in that manner. I demanded that Smitherman take that electronic postcard off the site, apologize for choosing that quote and 'take the pledge'. I, of course, have heard nothing back from either side.
Here's where you come into the picture. I have a large daily readership. Many of you are faithful commenters. I would like you to take just five minutes from your day and contact both Ford and Smitherman and if you have time also a note to City Television which has a popular news programme here in Toronto. I'd also ask that you leave a comment here in the comment section to let me know that you've done this. It's a lot to ask. But we have to start using the muscle of our numbers and the motivation of our anger to make our voices heard. Don't worry if you are from outside of Toronto or outside of Canada, the international movement against the 'r word' needs to been seen, felt and most importantly heard. I have this wonderful image of those of you who live in parts of the world that are reading this just after publishing at midnight here in Toronto immediately writing letters, I imagine the Ford and Smitherman people openning their emails in the morning to discover international outrage. I imagine and I hope.
For those of you who have a personal blog, disability themed or not, who are looking for something to blog about, please join in and maybe we can blogswarm this topic. It's inappropriate for public figures to speak disparagingly of any member of the disability community. If you do blog about this, put the link in the comments so we can all visit and get a sense of the length and breadth of our community.
Here's how you get in touch:
Rob Ford who used the word:
Campaign Address
245 Dixon Road
Toronto, Ontario
M9P 3T4
Phone: 416.628.8576
E-mail: rob@robfordformayor.ca
The George Smitherman Campaign who is distributing the quote containing the word:
70 The Esplanade, Suite 201
Toronto, ON
M5E 1R2
T. 416.342.9674
E. info@georgesmitherman.ca
To a media outlet in Toronto:
news.to@citynews.ca
The world needs to be made safe for all - and we are finally realizing that we are part of 'all'.
Thanks 'y'all' for reading, for writing, for protesting, for expressing outrage.
Outrage OutLoud!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
In Preparation
Today is the last day of my vacation and I'm going to take it off. Instead of a post today I am going to refer you to a blog written by my friend Susan who writes every Friday for the faith blog Whatever He Says. She writes about her gentle confrontation with a member of her family regarding the 'r' word. The only correction I would make to her post is that she states the 'words hit' campaign was intitiated by me. I'd love to take that credit but the campaign was actually started as a result of a request for community safety from a Vita member and then was designed in consultation with Manuela Dalla Nora, Vita's executive director and Vince Papa of Ancaster Pope Communications, along with various self advocates and staff.
I will ask you to read that blog in preparation for my blog tomorrow. I was going to write it today but I'm too angry and need to settle down a bit before writing it. I'll do so much later today after a period of time for reflection. Then, tomorrow, I'm going to ask you, maybe even beg you, for help. Action is sometimes needed. I believe it is needed now. But ... wait ... that's for tomorrow. For now, drop by and visit Susan ...
I will ask you to read that blog in preparation for my blog tomorrow. I was going to write it today but I'm too angry and need to settle down a bit before writing it. I'll do so much later today after a period of time for reflection. Then, tomorrow, I'm going to ask you, maybe even beg you, for help. Action is sometimes needed. I believe it is needed now. But ... wait ... that's for tomorrow. For now, drop by and visit Susan ...
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