Ableism and A Water Shed Experience.

I do not like to use the term ableism. There is more than a bit of irony in this and a good friend pointed out recently that ableism is the first entry in the ABC-CLIO Companion to the Disability Rights Movement edited by Fred Pelka. For those unfamiliar with this book it is an invaluable resource. I consult it often and the first entry, Ableism, begins: "Ableism is that set of often contradictory stereotypes about people with disabilities that acts as a barrier to keep them from achieving their full potential as equal citizens in society". What a great start to an encyclopedia type text devoted to disability rights. Yet, this does not address why I do not like the word. As I thought about writing this entry today, the day before many celebrate May Day, I told my son I was struggling with how to address ableism. Far from a diplomat, he replied "Dad, ableism is a stupid word. Nobody aside from people who know a lot about disability will have any idea what you are talking about. Those people are not the one's that need to understand what ableism is". Leave it to a teenager who thinks he has the answer to the world's problems to get down to brass tacks.

While I may not like the word ableism, I certainly was taught what it meant at a young age. In fact, I was taught what ableism means by mother within months of being paralyzed and well before the word existed. Thus when I think of the word ableism I think back to the days when I was a newly minted crippled dude. The year was 1978. I was 18 years old and had just emerged from a ten year medical odyssey that left me paralyzed. I did not have a clue as to which end was up. I was struggling to figure out how to drive with hand controls, take care of my paralyzed body, and return to what I expected to be a normal existence. It did not take me long to realize that a normal life was out of the question. This left me confused and I had a tendency to avoid social interaction and anything that resembled a confrontation. I was also worried about returning to school where I had been known as the kid that was always really sick and upon my return became the kid that used a wheelchair. I was not pleased and felt more than a little sorry for myself. This bring me to the point of this entry: my mother taught me to confront ableism head on.

One day I drove myself to high-school in my parents car and discovered there was no handicapped parking. When I got home I told my mother about this in a woe is me fashion designed to prompt sympathy. This went over like a led balloon. My mother told me in no uncertain terms that rather than whining about the lack of a parking spot for handicapped people I should do something about it. I replied, "Yeah, what can I do I am just a student". She told me "Tomorrow I want you to drive to school and park in the principal's parking spot. If he has a problem with this tell him there is no handicapped parking. If he gives you any grief call me and your father". I was in my first period class when the principal walked in the door and asked "Who is William Peace and why is his car parked in my spot". Stunned silence ensued, I turned red as an apple and was asked to follow him to his office. I felt like a man heading to gallows and asked to call my mother. But then a strange thing happened. I told him exactly what my mother told me to say: "I parked in your spot because there is no handicap parking. The day before I parked very far away in the student lot and had a hard time getting to the only accessible school entrance". Hardly impressed but willing to listen I dug in my heels and questioned why handicapped parking did not exist. A few minutes later my mother walked in the door. She gave the principal a withering stare only a furious mother can produce that strike fear into the hearts of others. Two things dawned on me: first, my parents were behind me 100% Although I could no longer walk, I was still the same person. Second, I realized I had to assert myself. That morning I learned I might be the same person I was before I was paralyzed but my wheelchair radically changed the way I was perceived. My mother used the lack of handicapped parking to force me to acknowledge this fact and assert my rights. By assert my rights I mean she taught me to reject ableism. Sure I was paralyzed but schools and other institutions had no right to treat me any differently. Basic and what has become known as "reasonable accommodations" could and should be made. My mother told the principal she and her husband would encourage me to park in his spot every day until the school created handicapped parking. This matter was not subject to discussion and the sooner handicap parking was created the sooner this issue would be resolved.

What happened when my mother and I left the principal's office? I went back to class and my peers were awed by my audacity. News of what I did spread like wild fire. My social status was only enhanced the next day when I drove to school and discovered next to the principals parking spot was a newly established area designated handicapped parking. I became folk hero among my peers. I was the guy that not only had the nerve to park in the principal's parking spot but in less than 24 hours get the school to create handicap parking. This was a watershed moment in my life. When I saw my mother defend me and force me to assert myself, I knew I would never accept a subservient social status. I could independently manage my own life. If confronted with ignorance and bigotry I was the one that must demonstrate I had the same rights as any other human that was bipedal. In short, my mother liberated me from an ableist mentality. I learned in a tangible way to reject the ism that forms the heart of discriminatory behavior. Since that day so long ago I have had no qualms about confronting ableism, asserting my inherent civil rights as an American citizen, and rejecting ableist beliefs that sadly remain common place some thirty years later. Too bad we cannot clone my parents who were ahead of their time and knew the importance of disability rights before the concept existed. As one reader of this blog commented I am very lucky to have won the parent lottery.