On Monday, the class photo of Canadian second-grader Miles
Ambridge went viral on the Internet because the boy, who uses a power
wheelchair, was visibly isolated from the rest of his class in the picture. His
parents were outraged, as they should be, but the story was sad for multiple
reasons. Commenters on blogs and social media across the web called the
incident shocking. This is a telling indicator that our society remains
painfully unaware of everyday oppression for millions of people with disabilities
around the world. These “shocking” displays of ableism happen all the time. The
fact that most people find them so surprising is just another reminder of how
far we have to go in a society where people with disabilities are excluded even
from diversity discussions. It says a lot about the ways we have failed
America's largest minority when the computer on which I type this piece
underlines ableism as a “non-word”. It may not be in your mental dictionary or
even in your physical one, but it is in your neighborhood, in the way you've
been taught to think, and in your concept of what it means to be normal.
Ableism is hardly
discussed, at least not in mainstream media. You may not think about it very
much, but to call it shocking is to turn your head away from a very real
discrimination that happens so frequently, and yet, rarely captures the
attention of the newspapers, the cameras, or even your conversation over
breakfast. Cases like that of Miles Ambridge usually are tucked quietly into
the “that’s how it is” file. Innocent children like Miles, seeking an equal
opportunity in the world, are told they are too different by the actions of
their peers. Millions of similar photographs are hung on refrigerators, by
parents who would cry, but know too well that this is just one of too many
battles that will challenge them along the way. That, or they will hang up the
picture without a fight, not because they don't care, but because they have
already fought for so many things, and the game has made them tired. When I saw
this article, I saw my elementary school self, and all the class photos, the
concerts, and the lunch tables that isolated me as a matter of course. I felt
the same sadness expressed by all the other readers, but unlike them, the
chills pulsing through my body came for Miles, and all the similar struggles I
know would lie ahead for him. They came because the story was so real for me,
and so commonplace it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Millions of people will
face the same discrimination, and no one will lift a pen to tell their stories.
Several days later, a follow-up article surfaced applauding
the photography company for taking another class photo, this time with Miles
seated in a chair, supported by an assistant.
The blogosphere has since filled with approval for the
retake; even the boy’s parents have called it “gorgeous”. While it's a personal
choice to get out of the wheelchair or not, I don't think the tail of the
retaken photo has sent the right message by suggesting that the solution for
the act of exclusion was to remove the child from his wheelchair. This implies
that his wheelchair was the problem, not the attitudes of his school and the
photographer. It suggests that the way to practice inclusion is to take away
our visible markers of difference rather than change the way we treat people
who look different from ourselves. What kind of lesson does that teach the
other students and all those who could learn a thing or two about acceptance
and making everyone a part of the group? The root injustice remains
unaddressed, and the school and the photographer will not have to face the
reality of their own prejudice. The media had an excellent opportunity to start
a discussion about disability pride, and to talk about the institutional
barriers that plague a rich cultural community of people with disabilities. But
that is not the conversation it started. Instead, it was more of the same,
perpetuating the idea that we have no responsibility to accommodate those who
do not fit the mold, because “hush, hush” we're supposed to busy ourselves
being grateful that we're allowed to go to mainstream school at all. Again, we
are told that children like Miles, and people like me, are best off when our
differences are hidden, and our bodies made to look as close to the hegemonic
concept of normal as possible. Young people in wheelchairs, or with any kind of
disability were denied another chance to have a meaningful dialogue, and told
that there is something wrong with them, and not with the second class treatment
they endure as a marginalized population.
I hope next time you see a story about a person with a disability
being left out, discriminated against, or humiliated, you will not feel
shocked, just angry because you know we can do better as a human family. I hope
you will check your privilege and realize that the disability rights movement
isn't just a bunch of people in wheelchairs looking for you to build a ramp. And
I hope that someone will tell Miles, and every other child like him, that they
deserve an equal place in this world, wheelchair and all.
Beautifully written as always Kathleen! I can't wait to start following this blog - Hope you're doing great!
ReplyDeleteYou're wonderful and I am proud to call you my BEST FRIEND <3
ReplyDeleteSpaz Girl and The Squeaky Wheelchair.....I feel like there's a punchline hidden somewhere in here....
i must apologize for any grammatical errors/horrors. Dragon speech software....
ReplyDeleteThanks for joining the blogosphere and writing honestly about your thoughts. It's interesting and thought provoking and I want to read more. All the best. JMF
ReplyDeletethis is awesome
ReplyDeleteJust remember how to reply to all these comments. Thanks so much for reading and stay tuned.
ReplyDelete