mtown97 – UAB Institute for Human Rights Blog

Violent Ableism: A Structural Epidemic

Warning: This blog includes content on violent acts against people with disabilities.

Last week, James Quilter was nearly strangled to death last week by his own mother. Quilter, 21, is a nonverbal autistic man with Langer-Giedion Syndrome. His mother became enraged after seeing a mess created by her son. Screaming for him to die, Gidget Quilter pushed James to the ground and choked him in front of her other six children.

Stories like this are not uncommon. Children with disabilities suffer from physical abuse at a rate over four times higher than children without disabilities (WHO). Parents of children with disabilities may lack a nuanced, informed understanding of disability. Lack of knowledge in itself shouldn’t be demonized, but ableist misinformation has dangerous and even fatal results. Abled parents may think of their child’s disability in terms of their own experience, creating selfish motivations with detrimental results. This perspective has led to disability advocacy organizations that are operated by and designed around abled caregivers and parents. In these spaces, the conversation is warped to emphasize “fixing” and eradicating disability instead of empowerment. This perpetuates dangerous stereotypes and justifies people like Gidget Quilter.

Protesters from Autistic Self-Advocacy Network hold signs that say "I am not a puzzle, I am a person" and "Autism Speaks does not speak for me" at the Walk Now for Autism fundraiser in Portland, OR. — “not a puzzle.” Source: Philosophography, Creative Commons.

As I have discussed in earlier posts like Disability History: Overlooked but Not Forgotten, ableism is a phenomenon based on implicit negative bias towards disability that is played out on every level of society. Ableism is rooted in widespread bodily expectations of “perfect” ability. All actors within ableist systems have the burden of meeting sociocultural bodily expectations. On an abstract level, anyone not meeting ability expectations is expected to accept the risks that come with perceived weakness/vulnerability; anyone who meets the standard for ability expects immunity for enforcing ability expectations, even if violent. In a society that rewards and idealizes normality, hatred is often directed at anyone showing otherness or “abnormality.” Audre Lorde discusses this frankly in her classic collection, “Sister Outsider.”

“Institutionalized rejection of difference is an absolute necessity in a profit economy which needs outsiders as surplus people. As members of such an economy, we have all been programmed to respond to the human differences between us with fear and loathing and to handle that difference in one of three ways: ignore it, and if that is not possible, copy it if we think it is dominant, or destroy it if we think it is subordinate” (Lorde, 1984:77).

In blogs like the one mentioned above, I chose to leave out details on the suffering of people with disabilities. This was intentional, as I wrote, “It’s exhausting and demoralizing to read about these things as a disabled person. It also encourages unneeded pity from non-disabled people. Though pity may come from good intentions, it only reinforces dehumanizing attitudes.” I stand by this sentiment, especially in the context of empowering historical narratives, but it feels critical to bring attention to violent ableism in its own piece.

Violence is a mechanism by which individuals assert ableism, but not all cases of ableist violence are as visible as the attack against James Quilter. Violence, according to Galtung, is enacted when “human beings are effectively prevented from realizing their potentialities,” (1969:170) or when there is an ability to avoid harm that is neglected in favor of others’ benefit. This encompasses deprivation of health through personal violence (direct violence) and social injustice (structural violence). Personal or direct violence is further understood as having both physical and psychological components. In the following subsections, I will identify psychological/internal violent ableism, physical/direct violent ableism, and the structural violence of ableism. All of these elements compound into a fundamentally ableist world in which people with disabilities face endless barriers to empowerment and liberation.

This image shows a red figure in a wheelchair that appears to be made by fingerpainting. There are three lights shining at the top of the image. — “Disability.” Source: Abhijit Bhaduri, Creative Commons.

Psychological / Internal Violence

Disability has long been viewed as a deficit in ability, with blame for impairment placed upon the disabled individual. This framework instills a deep sense of inadequacy and shame for people with disabilities, amplifying when the disabled individual relies on the assistance of others or social welfare programs. Internally, shame is generated by the weight of burdening others in societies that assign value to self-sufficiency. Shame reinforces a lack of self-esteem that further impedes participation in society. This process has been disrupted with personal empowerment made possible with the social model of disability. Per Tom Shakespeare, “The problem of disability is relocated from the individual, to the barriers and attitudes which disable her. It is not the disabled person who is to blame, but society. She does not have to change, society does. Rather than feeling self-pity, she can feel anger and pride,” (Shakespeare, 2006:200). Read more IHR blog posts about the social model of disability here and here.

This has been revolutionary for the empowerment of disabled people, but society at large has not yet embraced this perspective. Ableist bias runs deep and is clearly manifested in the discrimination and exclusion of people with disabilities in society.

Direct Violence

In part due to these fears and biases, persons with disabilities overwhelmingly experience disproportionately high rates of direct violence. Davis writes, “People with disabilities have been isolated, incarcerated, observed, written about, operated on, instructed, implanted, regulated, treated, institutionalized, and controlled to a degree probably unequal to that experienced by any other minority group” (2006: xvi). Per the National Crime Victimization Survey conducted by the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics, “the rate of violent victimization for persons with disabilities was at least 2.5 times the rate for those without disabilities.” Disabled women face violent victimization at a rate of 32.8 per 1,000, compared to abled women at 11.4 per 1,000 (Harell, 2017).

The disaggregated nature of the disabled community translates into a preponderance of data for specific impairments. For example, people with cognitive/developmental disabilities are up to ten times more likely to be victims of crime, and often face repeat victimization (Petersilia, 2000). Per the same source, sexual assault rates for women with developmental disabilities are over fifty percent higher than in the general population. This is partially due to the physical vulnerability of people with disabilities but can also be tied to broad assumptions that dehumanize disabled people as well as structural factors that increase vulnerability. A study published in the Journal of Interpersonal Violence found that “structural violence was shown to underpin all other forms of interpersonal violence,” which, they further conclude, increases the vulnerability of persons with disabilities in addition to isolating them from society (Neille and Penn, 2015).

A man in a wheelchair looks back as he wheels down the street. He is wearing a bright pink hat and has a backpack hanging off the handles of his chair. — “The Wheelchair Wanderer.” Source: Edward Allen Lim, Creative Commons.

Structural Violence

Structural violence is more difficult to identify and prohibit than direct physical violence, and its impacts are much deeper. Injustice is built into the structure of our world, which “shows up as unequal power and consequently as unequal life chances” (Galtung, 171). Centuries of global ableist conduct explains why the structural violence of ableism is so deeply wrought, and why it is such a challenge to identify the full extent of its power. I will attempt to explain the roots of ableism, violence as an enforcing mechanism, and the current manifestations of this structure.

Disability cannot be an “other” unless conceptions of the body are expected to fit some standard or ideal physical form. In other words, deviance can hardly be defined outside of its distance from an ideal. Though modern culture is normalized to judge anything by its “average” or “normal” form, these concepts are relatively new. The field of statistics gained steam in the early 19th century, heralded by a group of European eugenicists looking for a way to improve humanity – first by establishing an ideal for mankind, and then acting to eliminate wrongful deviations. “Eugenics became obsessed with the elimination of ‘defectives,’ a category which included the ‘feeble-minded,’ the deaf, the blind, the physically defective, and so on” (Davis, 2006). The hierarchical conceptualization of the body was used to uphold classist structures and elite institutions of power.

These ideas, aided by the popularity of social Darwinism, became prevalent and were applied into political, social, and legal institutions – effectively cementing structural ableism.

Impacts of Structural Ableism

Reproductive violence is a significant type of violence enacted against disabled people on a structural level. Forced sterilization is a major component of this. People with disabilities have historically been forced to undergo sterilization in a variety of countries and time periods, including 20th century America. By 1931, nearly thirty states had compulsory-sterilization laws, aimed at “the insane, ‘feeble-minded,’ sexual perverts, drug fiends, drunkards, epileptics, and ‘other diseased and degenerate persons,’” (Hubbard, 2010:95). The fact that so many states implemented compulsory-sterilization laws is a testament to the pervasiveness of ableism. This foundation was laid in the 19th century but, like many other forms of systematic oppression, is continuously self-reinforcing.

“In the case of disability, [oppression is reinforced] by a circuitry of power and ideology that constantly amplifies the normality of domination and compresses difference into classification norms… of superiority and normality against inferiority and abnormality.” (Charlton, 2006:225).

Unchecked ableism has created a world in which people with disabilities face endless barriers to empowerment and liberation. One major mechanism of ableist structural violence is economic injustice; this, perhaps, has been the most recognizable form of indirect violence for disabled people. Poverty is both a cause and a consequence of disability, forming the disability-poverty circle. Over 27% of individuals with disabilities live in poverty in the United States – nearly double the 12.5% rate for the general population (Wohl, 2014:3). Discrimination in employment, inaccessible urban environments, and lack of accessible transportation make it incredibly difficult for people with disabilities to generate an adequate or stable income. Lack of insurance with overpriced medical bills often exhaust disabled peoples’ resources, while restrictive qualifications for government assistance complicates life further.

“Getting fitted out for a better future.” Source: Kanishka Afshari/FCO/DFID, Creative Commons.

Globally, disabled people, particularly in periphery countries, are “the poorest and most powerless people on earth,” (Charlton, 2006:218), facing a compendium of internal, interpersonal, and structural violence. Political economy is a critical area to investigate here, being the system that informs the hierarchy of wealth/poverty, production/exchange, power and privilege. The political economy has evolved to be ruled by “laws of capital and profit,” (Charlton 2006:218) with no room for deviation, impairment, or mercy.

Conclusion

Persons with disabilities face violence at the psychological/internal level through shame and stigma; at the interpersonal level through direct/physical violence between individuals; and at the structural level through norms that “otherize” deviance, discriminatory policy, and institutions like the international political economy. Violent ableism is an intentional mechanism to reinforce elitist structures of power that benefit “superior” groups and eradicate “inferior” deviants. Ableism is a self-perpetuating cycle that operates through internal assumptions, individual interactions, and structural manifestations in policies and institutions.

Structural ableism will stay rooted in place until positive peace for the disability community is actively pursued at every level – challenging internal bias, practicing social compassion, and preventing future manifestations of ableist structural violence through the destruction of that system and the active, inclusive construction of a better one. Stay tuned to the IHR’s Facebook and Twitter for my next blog on what positive peace for the disability community looks like, and how we can achieve it.

Works Cited

Charlton, James I. “The Dimensions of Disability Oppression: An Overview.” In Lennard J. Davis, Disability Studies Reader, 2nd ed, 2006, pp. 217-230.

Davis, Lennard J. “Constructing Normalcy.” Disability Studies Reader, 2nd ed, 2006, pp. 3-16.

Davis, Lennard J. “Disability Studies Reader,” 2nd ed, 2006. Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group. New York, NY,

Finkelstein, Vic. “To Deny or Not to Deny Disability.” In Handicap in a Social World, edited by A Brehin et al. Sevenoaks: OUP/Hodder and Stoughton. 1981.

Galtung, Johan. “Violence, Peace, and Peace Research.” Journal of Peace Research, vol. 6, no. 3, 1969, pp. 167–191. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/422690.

Harell, Erika. “Crime Against Persons with Disabilities: 2009 – 2015 Statistics.” National Crime Victimization Survey, Bureau of Justice Statistics, 11 June 2017.

Lorde, Audre. “Sister Outsider – Essays and Speeches.” The Crossing Press, 1984.

Shakespeare, Tom (2006). The Social Model of Disability. In Lennard J. Davis (ed.), The Disability Studies Reader, 2nd ed., 2006, pp. 197-204.

Patterson, Cynthia. “‘Not Worth the Rearing’: The Causes of Infant Exposure in Ancient Greece.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-), vol. 115, 1985, pp. 103–123. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/284192.

Wohl, Alexander. “Poverty, Employment, And Disability: The Next Great Civil Rights Battle.” Human Rights, vol. 40, no. 3, 2014, pp. 18–22. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/26408468.

Midwifery and Misconceptions

Living in a city with some of the most well-ranked hospitals in the nation, we sometimes take our access to healthcare for granted. The wail of an ambulance is a frequent annoyance to UAB students, but it’s a noise that many people are grateful to hear – especially those who live in rural areas with limited access to healthcare.

Midwife Lorina Karway is one of those people. Karway is responsible for helping thousands of Liberian women give birth safely. She often uses the light of her cell phone, held in her mouth, to deliver babies in a facility without electricity (UN Women). It’s not an easy feat to accomplish, but courage, intuition, and years of experience guide Karway to success. Childbirth is a common, natural process that veteran midwives handle skillfully, but complications do happen. When they do happen, it can be incredibly dangerous. The nearest hospital is over sixty miles away, and emergencies without swift action can have fatal outcomes. Midwives have successfully operated for centuries without hospitals, but medical equipment and clean facilities with electricity are immensely helpful in high-risk situations.

A smiling midwife holds a newborn baby bundled in a blanket. — “Cmdr. Protegenie Reed, a Navy midwife from Miami, Florida holds a newborn baby during Pacific Partnership 2015.” Source: Sgt. Valerie Epple, Creative Commons.

Midwifery still has a reputation for being illegitimate or unsafe relative to hospital deliveries, but midwives aren’t just second-rate doctors for communities without hospital access. “Skilled, knowledgeable and compassionate care for childbearing women, newborn infants and families across the continuum from pre-pregnancy, pregnancy, birth, postpartum and the early weeks of life,” is how the World Health Organization defines the holistic practice. Part of the negative reputation is because midwives tend to practice in areas where adequate services and equipment are lacking, creating the dangerous situations that Karway faces. Communities without access to healthcare still require some sort of healthcare, and midwives across the world bravely fill that gap.

Two midwives stand next to a curtain in a dim room with photos of babies on the walls. — “Midwives Hasina and Aya Begum wait inside the birthing centre in Koral slum, Dhaka, Bangladesh.” Source: Conor Ashleigh for AusAID.

The danger is not created by practicing midwives, but rather from the community’s lack of access to adequate local healthcare services that extend beyond a midwife’s capacities. A solution to this gap in service would enable midwives to deliver better standards of care, and to ensure midwives can collaborate with hospital assistance when required. Additionally, there is evidence that midwife-assisted births result in better care than births guided by obstetricians (Walters et al). The study by Walter investigates variation within hospitalized care, but similar conclusions were found in regards to remote midwifery. Cost analyses of prenatal and postnatal care from seven different remote aboriginal communities found that “midwife group care (MGP) was likely to be cost effective, and women received better care resulting in equivalent birth outcomes compared with the baseline maternity care” (Gao et al).

Policy solutions have not been aimed at uplifting midwives, but rather to create barriers and even criminalize. Midwifery was essentially outlawed in Alabama for the past forty years, along with a dozen other states. Even where legal, barriers were constructed make it difficult for up-and-coming midwives to obtain training, licensing, equipment, facilities, and adequate pay. This is bad for midwives, and detrimental to women in need of accessible maternal healthcare.

A woman in hijab stands in the middle of a classroom with six pupils in hijab. — “Community Midwifery Education Program.” Source: Aga Khan Foundation/Sandra Calligaro, Creative Commons.

According to the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA)

Over 300,000 women and 2.7 million babies died in childbirth in 2015 alone.
Most of these deaths were preventable and caused by a lack of sufficient antenatal, delivery and post-natal care.
Almost ⅔ of all maternal and newborn deaths could be prevented by well-trained midwives.
Midwifery includes comprehensive reproductive health and community health practices.

Barriers faced by midwives include:

Social isolation / poor living conditions; 37% of midwives face harassment at work
Lack of professional development opportunities or support through regulation/accreditation
“Unequal power relations and gender inequality within the health system and within communities” (WHO).
“Private sector markets and medical hierarchy leading to medicalized births, which constrains opportunities for quality midwifery care” (WHO).

Human Rights Impact

Here are some reasons why it’s important to embrace midwifery as an alternative or addition to formal medical care:

Overlooking midwifery increases stigma. This makes it harder for women to access midwives – especially rural and/or low-income families cannot afford or cannot travel to medical centers.
Midwifery is a critical role in some indigenous traditions. Native women have the right to practice traditional knowledge and engage in their own culture. Legislation that stigmatizes or creates barriers for midwives will likely harm indigenous practitioners.
Women have the right to choose what kind of healthcare is best for them. Healthcare is never one-size-fits-all, and it’s important to invest in a variety of options for a variety of patient needs.
Midwifery needs to be an accessible and viable career path. Medicalization of birth and barriers to midwife accreditation essentially act as gatekeepers, forcing aspiring practitioners to attend costly medical school or, for those who can’t afford it, to abandon their dreams.

Midwifery is a quality alternative to hospitalized childbirth, but many don’t have the luxury to choose. When distance makes choosing hospitals impossible, midwives fulfill their communities’ needs for reproductive/maternal healthcare. Midwives should be empowered to provide adequate services whether in urban hospitals or rural facilities, with unhindered access to training, education, and opportunity. Per CEDAW, states have the obligation to provide “appropriate services in connection with pregnancy, confinement and the post-natal period.” Let us support midwives as they courageously provide services that no one else will. Let us encourage midwives across the globe to continue their work despite disdain, mistrust, and criminalization. Let us uplift and support midwifery to make the world a better, safer, more accessible place.

—–

Craven, Christa, and Mara Glatzel. “Downplaying Difference: Historical Accounts of African American Midwives and Contemporary Struggles for Midwifery.” Feminist Studies, vol. 36, no. 2, 2010, pp. 330–358. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/27919104.

Parry, D. C. 2008. “We wanted a birth experience, not a medical experience”: Exploring Canadian women’s use of midwifery. Health Care for Women International, 29: 784–806.

Thomas, Samuel S. “EARLY MODERN MIDWIFERY: SPLITTING THE PROFESSION, CONNECTING THE HISTORY.” Journal of Social History, vol. 43, no. 1, 2009, pp. 115–138. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20685350.

Shaw, Jessica. “ The Medicalization of Birth and Midwifery as Resistance.” 20 Mar 2013.
Health Care for Women International. Volume 34, 2013 – Issue 6. www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/07399332.2012.736569?tab=permissions&scroll=top

Disability History: Overlooked but Not Forgotten

*Author’s note: I am aware of discourse on person-first language (people with disabilities) versus identity-first language (disabled people). I identify as disabled (chronic illness is a form of disability) and personally prefer identity-first over person-first, but I will use both forms in this blog as to avoid repetition.

“Classroom scene with teacher Kate Hobart showing students how to use mirrors to assist speech-learning.” 1893, Horace Mann School for the Deaf. Source: Boston City Archives, Creative Commons.

The history of disability is asymmetrical. We know that history is always written by those with the power to wield the pen, and the powerful have always trodden on disabled people*. This is why history has most commonly staged people with disabilities as passive subjects — voiceless patients, preserved in history as miserable recipients of medical treatments, cures, and operations. Before the acknowledgement of dis/ability as a socially constructed identity much like gender or race, the dominant framework was the medical model. Impairments were seen from a medical standpoint as afflictions to remove, and “disability history” is full of famed doctors who found apparent solutions to bodily deviance. [Read more about the difference in the medical and social models in this post by graduate student and IHR intern Shane Burns!]

Disability scholars, in the past few decades, have begun to reclaim disabled narratives and frame them in ways that empower and enrich the social matrix of ability.

Like African American revisionists, we strive to reevaluate history with an additional, more critical lens. Before critical race scholars/theorists reasserted historic perspectives to reveal deep-seated racism (alongside the influential Civil Rights and Black Power movements), American society accepted racial discrimination as a fact of life. Ableism can be subverted in a similar way. Modern principles of universal justice and equity equip us to destroy structural injustice wherever it lurks within the depths of unchallenged social praxis. Additionally, revisionism – in disability history, Black history, LGBTQ history, etc. – grants the option to see historically oppressed groups as agents of change rather than sufferers of fate. Obviously, the lingering trauma experienced by oppressed identities cannot be ignored, and it would be detrimental to assume that the same forces of oppression no longer exist. But viewing disabled people as individuals with power, richness, and complexity is an empowering perspective.

Disability activist Stella Young chats with Paralympic medalist Ann Cody. Both women use wheelchairs. — “Stella Young with Ann Cody.” Source: Exchanges Photos, Creative Commons. [Watch Stella Young’s phenomenal TED talk, “I’m not your inspiration, thank you very much,” here.]

In that spirit, this blog will give a brief overview of the disability rights movement, and will highlight some overlooked historical perspectives of persons with disabilities. I will condense the obligatory section detailing the terrible harms suffered by people with disabilities over the centuries : subjugation, abuse, isolation, eugenic extermination, etc. Disabled people have suffered in a wide range of circumstances and continue to suffer today from a toxic mixture of economic, social, political, and cultural barriers. It’s exhausting and demoralizing to read about these things as a disabled person. It also encourages unneeded pity from non-disabled people. Though pity may come from good intentions, it only reinforces dehumanizing attitudes. These attitudes replicate through supposedly innocent interactions like “oh, you poor thing,” and “if I were you, I’d just want to die! I can’t believe you do it!” These sentiments are fairly common reactions from non-disabled people, and they are often said with emphatic sympathy. Yet these are the same attitudes that have stolen agency from disabled people, used their life struggles as perverted inspiration, and used as an excuse to suppress, subject, torture, and extinguish people with disabilities.

Ableism, like many other “isms,” is bound and sustained through micro-level interactions rooted in unconscious yet detrimental assumptions. If you are a non-disabled person, I urge you to reflect before you react to disabled narratives, and consider how your assumptions have been informed by bias. Be sure to actively listen with compassion, react with empathy instead of pity, and always practice validation. It’s okay to have questions, and it’s okay to feel uncomfortable. Sit with your discomfort. Explore it. Decide to challenge it, and you may find yourself with a new perspective.

A group of disabled protesters are staged outside of a healthcare clinic, protesting welfare cuts that have harmed many disabled people in the UK. — “Disabled people protest outside St Mary’s House, Norwich.” Source: Roger Blackwell, Creative Commons.

The Disability Rights Movement

“People with disabilities have been socially dispersed and have lacked both a common identity and the economic and political resources to coalesce into an active and effective movement capable of political action. A rights-oriented consciousness and an adequate organizational apparatus have both been essential to creating the disability rights movement.” – Scotch (1989, p. 4).

In other words, the disability rights movement required a) the collective understanding that disabled people as a group deserved rights and b) the resources to organize and motivate that group effectively.

This effort began to gather momentum in the 1960s, inspired by the grassroots activism of the time (another significant nod to the Civil Rights & Black Power movements). The early disability rights movement also benefited from community programs for disabled people, such as disabled student programs on college campuses. These programs were meant to provide services for people with disabilities, but they also inadvertently connected disabled people.

This was a radical change in society. Most disabled people were physically and socially isolated from one another prior to this movement — individuals with diverse impairments didn’t recognize each other under a “disabled” identity. This disconnect is caused by compounding issues. For instance, an epileptic person has a different set of struggles than a Deaf person or a wheelchair user. In other words, different impairments look and function differently, and it can be hard to conceptualize shared identity between such diverse experiences. Community spaces are often inaccessible, while home environments are isolating. In these situations (especially when surrounded by non-disabled caretakers/family) personal autonomy and dignity can be limited. Without opportunities to share narratives among peers, disabled people had no way of knowing the vast network who shared their experiences. But when this network began to develop, it became apparent that many of us feel the same pain. Together, we could investigate our experiences and find that they’re all rooted in the same institutional structures, harmful biases, and violent enforcement of so-called normalcy.

The first major assertion of collective disabled power came in the early 1970’s. Union of Physically Impaired Against Segregation (UPIAS) was a British group whose radical publications – including Fundamental Principles of Disability (1975) — formed the ideological foundations from which the social model of disability emerged in the early eighties. Penned by Mike Oliver, the social model pointed out that having a disability is not an impairment in itself, but that impairments are created by an inaccessible society. The impairment of poor vision would be disabling if glasses weren’t widely accessible. This shifted the entire paradigm of ability. Everyone experiences limitation and impairment, ability exists on a spectrum, and the social mechanisms that separate “abled” from “disabled” can be torn down. The suffering experienced by disabled people isn’t inherent and should not be accepted. Disabled people can celebrate their own existence, and can demand a better existence for themselves and their peers. Judy Heumann says it much better than I can:

“As long as you believe that your life is a tragedy, you can’t do very many good things with your life. Once you believe that the tragedy isn’t your fault, that it is the failure of the political system to acknowledge your rights as a human being, to be equal in society, that you can as an individual have a voice as part of a group, then you can make a difference.”

Disabled Perspectives in History

Historical records lack the perspective of most disabled people themselves, save for a notable few whose privilege awarded access to education and personal acclaim. Helen Keller was certainly not the first person to be born both Deaf and blind, but her family’s relative privilege granted Ms. Keller access to education and the social positioning to benefit from it. Helen Keller is an inspirational, barrier-breaking figure. That’s not up for debate. But it is noteworthy to mention that her privilege – having a well-connected white family with roots in Southern aristocracy – facilitated her success. Helen learned a variety of communication methods, including ASL, Braille, touch lip-reading, and speaking verbally. She attended college – a notable feat for any woman in her era – and went on to publish a dozen books, helped found several organizations (ACLU, American Foundation for the Blind, Helen Keller International), and even won an Oscar (Helen Keller International).

“Helen Keller taking a speech lesson from Annie Sullivan.” 1890-1895, Horace Mann School for the Deaf records. Source: City of Boston Archives, Collection 0420.047, Creative Commons.

Frida Kahlo is a famous Mexican artist and painter whose disabilities greatly impacted her work. The story of Kahlo’s trolley accident at age 18 is infamous, as well as the physical impact – a broken spine, broken pelvis, and a severe abdominal injury. Prior to this accident, she contracted polio at age 6, and is believed to have been born with spina bifida (Daunton). These experiences are well-known; Kahlo’s legacy has been tainted by pity and morbid fascination with her painful experiences. I believe she should be celebrated in a light that honors her experience. Not only was Kahlo a fierce, vibrant spirit with immense artistic talent, but she broke barriers for other disabled women of color. Kahlo embraced the unique, rich perspective that she had gained through dealing with years of pain, vulnerability, and isolation – channeling it into powerful art. Frida Kahlo unapologetically existed as a disabled woman of color, presenting her body in all its beautiful, sexual, and painful complexities.

A painting by Frida Kahlo features two versions of herself side by side. One is in a white dress, the other in a blue top and green skirt. Both Fridas' hearts are visible, and connected by a vein. — “Frida Kahlo – Two Fridas (1939).” Source: Cea, Creative Commons.

Harriet Tubman is another extraordinary woman of color who was affected by disability. Tubman experienced a traumatic brain injury at age 12 at the hands of a slave owner. Tubman dealt with complications for the rest of her life including severe pain, seizures and/or narcoleptic episodes. Her disabilities may have contributed to her success, as Tubman’s narcoleptic trance-like episodes offered moments of great spiritual impact (Sabourin et al, 2016). A deeply religious woman, Harriet Tubman was guided by her faith to rescue hundreds of slaves over the course of thirteen incredibly dangerous escape missions. Tubman also is the first woman to plan and lead a military operation against the Confederacy – with stealth skills and knowledge of Southern geography, “General Tubman” conducted a successful raid on Combahee River that freed over 700 slaves (National Museum of African American History & Culture).

“Harriet Tubman (far left) with family and neighbors, circa 1887.” Source: Bettman/Corbis, Creative Commons.

Conclusion

The history of disability – as a movement, as individuals, as an identity – is rich, compelling, and intersectional. We should see it as an under-explored reserve of knowledge hidden by suppression, and a perspective to be treasured. Disability history demands to be re-examined and reclaimed in a framework of empowerment. It’s critical for incorporating disability rights into wider society. When you apply modern standards to historical events and figures, a narrative of agency and power can emerge. Simultaneously, it can reveal the despicable mechanisms that create, inform, and enforce oppression. As I said earlier — modern principles of universal justice and equity equip us to destroy structural injustice wherever it lurks within the depths of unchallenged social praxis.

Disability Rights: A Personal Perspective

* This is a repost from summer 2017

“The purpose of the present Convention is to promote, protect and ensure the full and equal enjoyment of all human rights and fundamental freedoms by all persons with disabilities, and to promote respect for their inherent dignity.” When I was hired by the UAB Institute for Human Rights, I never dreamed that we would take the trip to the United Nations for the 10^th Convention of States Parties on the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Visiting the United Nations has always been a dream for me, but being able to take part in an international effort to promote disability rights was an unbelievable opportunity to me personally.

Disability has always intersected my life. My sister and I were born with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which is basically a fancy way of saying that all the connective tissue in our bodies are about as stable as a limp noodle. Because of EDS, chronic pain is just a part of my life. I am unable to run, walk, or jump without a joint in my body threatening to dislocate. I suffer from sleep disorders and chronic fatigue along with a host of gastrointestinal issues. It also affects my heart and my autonomic nervous system; I tend to feel like a walking time bomb of anxiety, heart palpitations, and general malaise all wrapped up in a spaghetti-based body. I have lived my whole life without complaining for the most part. Most people in my life don’t know the extent of my disability, or even about it at all. I keep my pain hidden because I do not want anyone’s pity. I continue physically far beyond what my body’s real limits are because I do not want people to think I am lazy or helpless. It takes too much time to explain my disability to everyone I meet, so I deal with my pain with a smile on my face. This is the reality that most people with disabilities face—a life of “oh, I’m so sorry for you!” when they learn of your disability and “why can’t you do this?” when they do not understand your limits. My struggle as a woman with a disability is the reason why the Convention meant so much to me. Before the Convention, I had never in my life been around more than two people with disabilities or ever felt like anyone truly understood what I was going through. Seeing so many other people with disabilities raising their voices, sharing their pain and suffering, and demanding change gave me hope that one day I will no longer feel like I need to hide my disability.

Photo of the team at lunch at the United Nations.

I have always known that having a disability does not mean you cannot be strong and independent. Not being able to walk for long periods does not make me lazy, and my joint instability does not make me weak. I know these things, but sometimes the able-bodied world undermines these beliefs and makes me feel like I will never be good enough. The champions of disability rights who I met gave me such courage to fight those fears. The utter strength and bravery of these people were so encouraging to someone like me. I could see myself in Daniela Bas, the head of DESA and wheelchair user. Ms. Bas has managed to overcome so many obstacles as a woman with a disability yet constantly dazzles people with her charismatic personality and fierce intellect. Ms. Bas gave her knowledge on the importance of international cooperation in dismantling the cross-cutting barriers faced by women with disabilities. Her policy-based approach and political science background gave me hope that one day I could follow in her footsteps. Ms. Mia Farah, of the Lebanese Association for Self-Advocacy, gave me such encouragement from her passion, skills, and independence as a woman with Down Syndrome. Ms. Farah organized one of the most enjoyable and successful side events I attended, despite the challenges that her intellectual disability can bring. Her story of her successes resonated with me because I have always feared my limitations. Mia Farah showed me that limitations that others place on you because of your disability don’t have to define you.

I not only found inspiration during my time at the UN but a wealth of new knowledge as well. Every individual gave new insight on disability rights that I had never considered before. Natalie Draisin spoke on road safety for women and girls with disabilities, and how unsafe roads and transportation can be fatal—an important issue that many ignore when discussing disability rights. I was touched by the story of Flavia Cintra, a Brazilian journalist, whose doctor told her to abort because he believed that tetraplegics should never have children. Ms. Cintra shared how Brazilian mothers with disabilities often lose custody of their children and have their reproductive rights stolen from them through deceptive paperwork. Some wedding officiators even refuse to marry people paralyzed below the waist because they are believed to be unable to bear children. I never knew any of these issues before speaking with Ms. Cintra. As a reproductive rights activist, Ms. Cintra’s story made me understand the importance of including people with disabilities in our activism. All of the stories and experiences that were shared with me hit deeply and gave me such insight into international policies on disability rights.

Audience view during the side event by IHR and IDPPS teams’ “Making Disability Rights Real: Implementing the CRPD through Regional Cooperation with Lessons Learned from ASEAN.”

The global environment for people with disabilities is harsh, whether one is in Brooklyn, Bogota, or Bangkok. All over the world, people with disabilities deal with compound discrimination, lack of adequate healthcare, limited access to resources, sexual abuse and assault, and the negation of their independence. Having this opportunity to partake in the implementation of policies on disability rights was genuinely life changing. Viewing the inner workings of the United Nations made me realize that I wanted to make a career in the international nonprofit organizations that work with the UN to effect change. It was incredible to see people from so many different places, all speaking in different languages. I could be listening to a speaker in Chinese, and put on a headset to have it translated live into French, Russian, English, and several more. Watching the sign language interpreters onstage during meetings was so thrilling— not only was it beautiful to watch, it also was critical in making the events accessible to the deaf and hard of hearing. These events made me realize how necessary sign language is to have a successful career in advocacy, because the inclusion of nonverbal people is vital. I will always look back on this trip to the United Nations as the moment when I found my calling. As I have always tried to ignore my disability, I had never realized until now how central disability rights are to my life. Being around such fearless role models brought to life a passion to fight for the rights of women and girls with disabilities around the world.

Representing Disability

Representation shapes the way we view the world – media regularly exposes us to perspectives and truths that we may otherwise never experience. Disability is one perspective that abled society frequently avoids. Persons with disabilities are heavily under-represented in media, and existing representations often perpetuate harmful stereotypes. Persons with disabilities are rarely depicted with agency or dignity. More often, disability in media is associated with helplessness, pity, or as a perverted source of inspiration for abled people.

However, times are changing. GLAAD’s Where We Are On TV is an annual report on diversity in television; findings from the recent 2018-2019 television season report a positive trend on representation for people with disabilities. Last year’s report found that 1.8% of all series regulars on primetime broadcast television had disabilities, while this year’s report lists 2.1%. This is only a small increase, and still under-represents the proportion of Americans with disabilities. According to the United States Census Bureau, Americans with disabilities make up between 12–19% of the population (variation in range is due to inconsistent definitions of disability).

But that 2.1% consists of a variety of compelling characters with disabilities. Popular television shows Speechless is groundbreaking for its representations of differently-abled youth. The show is centered around a young man with cerebral palsy, JJ, and his wacky family and friends. Speechless is unique in its approach of wholesome humor to deal with the difficulties of navigating personal agency, inclusivity and the struggles of teen life. Disability is so often viewed from a lens of misery, alienation, and darkness, but this show handles tough topics without demonizing disability. Speechless demonstrates that life with disabilities is much like any other, filled with pain but also joy and laughter. Though this is only one show, Speechless empowers persons with disabilities and sets a better tone for disability representation.

Despite under-representation in mainstream media, people with disabilities have found power in creating a culture of agency within their respective communities. Superfest, a disability film festival, was held in October of this year and showcased a range of perspectives from quadriplegia to cerebral palsy to Deafness. Social media allows persons with disabilities to present their own image of independence and beauty, empowering themselves and others. Advocate/blogger/model Mama Cax is an amputee woman of color with nearly 200k followers on Instagram (@mamacaxx). Cax, who modeled in popular designer brand Chromat’s inclusive Pool Rules campaign, is an inspiration to many women with disabilities who have never seen bodies like theirs proudly and unapologetically represented as beautiful.

Positive strides are also being taken in terms of political representation. Notable people with disabilities in politics include former president Franklin Delano Roosevelt and former Senator Tammy Duckworth. FDR was the first and only United States president who used a wheelchair; Duckworth was the first woman with a disability to be elected to Congress. Currently, no member of Congress has openly identified as having a disability, but the recent midterms did include several candidates with disabilities. Disability Action for America is an organization dedicated to increasing representation for persons with disabilities in the American political arena. Disability Action for American endorsed 16 candidates and raised money to aid their campaigns through the grassroots effort Disability Action Network. With their help, Jennifer Longdon is the first full-time wheelchair user to be elected to Arizona’s State Legislature.

“Ignite Phoenix 9 – Jennifer Longdon.” Source: Sheila Dee, Creative Commons.

“I think that my own marginalization, my own minority status, gives me a point of view that some of the other candidates might not share. It’s all interconnected. We’ve got to work together to get solutions… It touches education and employment. It touches housing and public transportation and health care and how the criminal justice system works. It touches disability and being LGBTQ, disability and being undocumented, disability and being black or brown, disability and being poor, being uneducated, being whatever else that made you ‘other.” – Jennifer Longdon

People with disabilities are a large and significant community. Increasing representation in media and politics is a critical step towards the acknowledgement of the rights of persons of disabilities at all levels, in all arenas. The examples discussed in this blog are few, but I believe that representation will grow from here. As more people see disability through better representation, disability becomes less distant and more easily understood and accepted. Disability advocates and activists are already growing in number as social justice movements have made efforts towards inclusion and intersectionality. These factors combine to create a positive force for change. Though there are still plenty of barriers to dismantle, disability representation and inclusion in society is on an upward swing.

Not Just A Phase: Bisexuality, Invisibility and Invalidation

Of the identities that together form the full rainbow of the LGBTQ+ community, the “B” is one of the least visible despite its sizable population. Per the San Francisco Human Rights Commission, “self-identified bisexuals make up the largest single population within the LGBT community in the United States.” LGBTQ+ refers to all of the people who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (a reclaimed term used to refer to all other identities not represented by the ones listed). However, not all people feel represented by the word “queer,” and the plus sign is meant to be inclusive of those communities.

A pink, purple, and blue flag flies to represent bi pride. — “The bisexual pride flag.” Source: Peter Salanki, Creative Commons.

To understand the experience of bisexual people, one must first understand the basics of gender and sexuality. Gender is a term that describes the social representation of biological reproductive processes, while one’s gender identity is based on personal identities, or the “internal perception of one’s gender” (SafeZone Project). Gender is what most people attach words like “man” and “woman” to, but can encompass a variety of identities such as agender (one who does not experience gender identity), polygender (one who experiences multiple gender identities), and genderfluid (can experience a combination of gender identities depending on the day). Sexual orientation is the “sexual, romantic, emotional/spiritual attraction” that one experiences, often depending on which gender/genders that they are attracted to. Straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, and asexual are all examples of different sexual orientations, though a wide variety exists in addition to those listed.

Bisexuality (bi) does not have one all-inclusive definition, but the term “bisexual” generally refers to a person who experiences attraction to people of their own gender as well as people outside of their gender. The experience of bisexuality can be shared by pansexual people. The two terms overlap, as pansexual people experience attraction regardless of gender. Typically, one differentiates between the two identities with respect to how an individual identifies themselves; some bisexual people could technically be called pansexual (and vice versa), but the most inclusive practice is to respect each individual/community as they define their own experience.

Semantics aside, bi people have faced a long history of adversity with very little notoriety. Bisexuality as an identity has been chronically invalidated, demonized, and even blatantly ignored. Discrimination towards bisexual people has long been enforced by a heterosexual society, but many bi people have experienced discrimination from within the LGBT community as well.

According to the oldest bisexual advocacy organization in the United States, bisexual people are more likely to live in poverty, have higher rates of sexual and intimate partner violence, and report higher rates of poor physical/mental health than lesbian, gay or straight people. Research from the same source reveals that “bisexuals are six times more likely than gay men and lesbians to hide their sexual orientation,” and nearly one-quarter of bi people have never shared their orientation with anyone.

One might expect a stronger community backlash to this level of inequality, but biphobia is so pervasive that few dare to speak out. Biphobia, or the aversion to bisexuality, is experienced frequently by bisexual people while in the company of others who assume that they are either heterosexual or homosexual (depending on the bi person’s partner). Bisexuality is a unique identity in that a bi person is not defined by the gender of their partner, and this heteronormative invisibility is what makes the bi existence so difficult. UC San Diego’s LGBT Resource Center puts it this way:

“Lesbian, gay, and heterosexual people are invested, and find a sense of security in being the ‘other’ to each other, and unite in the fact that they are only attracted to either the ‘same’ or the ‘opposite’ gender/sex. This sets up another ‘us’ vs. ‘them’ dynamic which effectively marginalizes bisexual people as ‘other.’ Integral to this dynamic is the automatic assumption people can be defined by the gender/sex of their current or potential romantic interest.”

An openly bisexual person often experiences the condescending attitudes of those who think that it’s just a phase. Straight people assume that bisexuals will eventually revert back to heterosexual “normalcy,” while LGBTQ+ people may assume that the bi identity is merely a “half-gay, half-straight” phase that will culminate in a homosexual identity later on. However, research provides data to the contrary – a longitudinal study found that 92% of bisexual women still identified as bisexual over ten years later. To be clear, sexual orientation is not validated or invalidated based on its fluidity. This data only provides evidence that bisexuality can be a stable orientation. These attitudes are reinforced by the assumption that society is separated into a heterosexual norm and a homosexual other, leaving little room for the huge spectrum of sexuality that falls between gay and straight.

“C.D. Kirven with the Trans Pride Flag while Get Equal flies the Bisexual & Rainbow Pride Flags.” Source: Melissa Kleckner, Creative Commons.

The statement “I’m bisexual” can also lead down a different but equally terrible path – the inevitable, half-joking “That’s hot!” or “Oh, so you want to have a threesome?” The stereotype that bisexual people are hypersexual is both degrading and exhausting. “Hypersexual” stereotypes assume that certain people are more likely to frequently engage in sexual activity with a lesser degree of moral restraint; this stereotype is applied to many identities other than bisexuals, and is particularly common for black and Latina women. Far too often, the experience of coming out as bi in addition to the perception of hypersexuality ends in an unwanted sexual invitation that can be traumatic, particularly considering the high rate of sexual violence among the bi community. The can permeate and negatively affect bisexual relationships, as their partner may struggle with trust issues resulting from this widespread misrepresentation. Some people may even avoid relationships with bisexuals altogether for fear of infidelity.

Each of these experiences results in the invalidation of bisexuality. Being bisexual is valid in itself, not as a stepping stone to a different sexual orientation or as a prop to spice up your heterosexual love life. Additionally, bisexuality is not the easy way out. An assumption exists that, even if the bisexual orientation is valid, bi people will eventually settle down into an opposite-gender relationship in order to bypass social discrimination that accompanies an LGBTQ+ identity. However, bisexual people in heterosexual-passing relationships are still equally affected by discrimination, biphobia, and invalidation; “passing” as straight does not negate the hardships that are tied to the bisexual experience.

Biphobia, invisibility, and discrimination are some of the most subversive yet malicious tools that are used to maintain the societal fabric of heteronormativity. Limiting or invalidating the bisexual orientation only strengthens the gay/straight dichotomy that holds us all back from freely experiencing the full spectrum of sexuality and gender. It’s easy to proclaim that the system should change, but realistically, what can we do to reduce injustice for bi people? First, you should examine your own thoughts and attitudes towards bisexuality. It’s easy to be complicit in biphobia and erasure if you aren’t aware of your unconscious bias. If you find and acknowledge any prejudicial tendencies, challenge those thoughts. Don’t assume a person’s sexual orientation based on their partners – ask them! If you witness a casual biphobic joke, call it out instead of being silent. Make room for bisexual people within the LGBT community. Above all, respect everyone’s identity enough to support and validate the terms that they choose for themselves.

The Last Straw: Ableism in Environmental Campaigns

Recent environmental campaigns have focused on the use of plastic straws as an easy way to eliminate/decrease plastic waste. Harmless in theory, this campaign is actually detrimental to a wide range of persons with disabilities. The mechanics of lifting one’s arm to drink is not universally able; many people with mobility impairment, chronic pain, or other issues are unable to drink without the aid of a straw. This issue extends to a variety of products and items that are labeled as “convenience items” for able-bodied people, but are critical to the health of persons with disabilities.

Convenience items, for abled people, can include things like pre-chopped veggies in plastic cartons at the supermarket or disposable plates and cutlery. Baby wipes are another critical example; environmentally damaging (heard of fatbergs?) but can make an incredible difference in helping persons with disabilities have control over their own hygiene. One may respond to this by saying, “Why can’t they just take a shower?” Unfortunately, shower is not “just a shower” when you have one or more disabilities. It can be a dangerous, isolated environment – a race against your own body’s limits, where even if you win (i.e., don’t pass out, fall, or injure yourself), you still end up exhausted. Baby wipes, despite a terrible environmental impact, allow persons with disabilities to bypass that exhaustion and exert control over their own hygiene. Essentially, convenience items are any item that saves time/energy at the expense of extra waste and often, a higher price tag. “Convenience” is a misleading term though, since these persons with disabilities depend on these products to function.

Let me explain the dependent relationship between those products and persons with disabilities. For those of you familiar with spoon theory, just bear with me for a moment. Spoon theory is a metaphor for the difficulties of persons with disabilities, where spoons represent a unit of energy / ability to accomplish a task. The theory itself is credited to Christine Miserandino, a blogger with Lupus. Able-bodied people, in this metaphor, have an indefinite amount of spoons, while persons with disabilities often wake up each morning with only a few, maybe a dozen. Every activity that seems mundane and forgettable (like putting on your clothes, taking a shower, driving to work) requires the use of a spoon. Persons with disabilities have to be careful and deliberate in every action to conserve spoons for the most important activities throughout the day — otherwise, we’ll be out of spoons before lunch, immobilized by exhaustion or pain.

I say “we” because this issue has personal impact for me. I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (as I’ve discussed in earlier blogs), which is a multi-systemic connective tissue disorder that causes chronic pain and joint instability among hundreds of other symptoms. Yes, hundreds! Cardiovascular, gastrointestinal, immune, respiratory, and nervous system dysfunctions galore. My WebMD history is the stuff of nightmares. It’s an invisible disability, which means that I often appear to be perfectly healthy — even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Due to my joint instability, I run the risk of painfully dislocating my shoulder every time I lift my arms. Lifting a heavy water bottle and tilting my head back can leave lingering nerve pain for weeks, depending on the severity of my condition that day. Chopping vegetables can make my hands, wrists and shoulders hurt for days, so pre-chopped packages of veggies save me at least one metaphorical spoon. Even getting a glass of water can be a labor-intensive process. If you have indefinite spoons, you may not even notice the effort involved. What feels like a quick trip to the kitchen for able-bodied people can be actually an arduous, multi-step experience. Standing, walking, lifting my arms, filling a cup with water, opening the freezer for ice — there are deliberate mechanics requiring strength and mobility that go into each of those tasks. Those mechanics are impossible for some and exhausting for many others.

“Sara and Nils Wedding Spoons.” Source: Marcus Metropolis, Creative Commons.

So grabbing a water bottle and a straw can save me the spoons that would be wasted in the process of making a glass of water. And no, I’m not exaggerating. Every single step is intentional for persons with disabilities, because our mobility is not a given. Our daily functioning is a result of years of grueling practice. We build routines that we depend on, filled with little things that are just “conveniences” to other people, but absolutely crucial for us. I have said before that my body operates like a stick-shift vehicle, while most people have the convenience of having an automatic. Able-bodied people are so used to having an automatic that they assume it feels that way for everyone, but any action or movement requires conscious, concentrated effort for people like me who are the human equivalent to a 1971 Ford Pinto (exploding gas tank included).

With that in mind, it’s no wonder that persons with disabilities become so frustrated when their “convenience” items are attacked. With my environmentally conscious friends, I often feel alienated and shamed for my use of plastic bottles and straws. I wish I did not depend on those items, but should people with disabilities have to choose between their immediate, personal health or contributing to global plastic waste? The fact that we have to even make that choice is appalling. Persons with disabilities genuinely care about the environment but we have an obligation to ourselves as human beings to secure our personal wellbeing over anything else.

A man in dark clothing crosses a city street with the aid of a walking stick / mobility device of some sort. — “Streets for all.” Source: Mathias Ripp, Creative Commons.

What about alternatives to plastic? That’s a great question, but it comes with some complex answers. Biodegradable products are typically less accessible, more expensive, and rarely offer a genuine replacement for their plastic predecessor. Biodegradable baby wipes are difficult to find and can be seven times more expensive than regular baby wipes. After a quick search of popular shopping sites, I found that regular wipes costs about 1 cent per sheet, while the most popular biodegradable option costs 7 cents or more per sheet. Disability activist Penny Pepper points out the issues with biodegradable alternatives in an opinion editorial for the Guardian.

Take for example, paper straws. According to Pepper (who is a published author, punk-rocker, and wheelchair burlesque dancer), paper straws lack flexibility, which is critical to achieve a safe drinking angle. The angle of one’s straw is important when you are unable to hold a cup yourself, or need someone to hold it for you. Metal and bamboo straws have the same issue, and are often too wide, which is not ideal for people with biting issues. Reusable straws run the risk of collecting bacteria, which is dangerous when autoimmune disorders are a factor.

A homeless man with disabilities sits on the ground with his dog. His wheelchair is next to them, along with all his items and an American flag. — “Tommy & Scrappy, Jensen Bridge, Houston, Texas 1207021123BW.” Source: Patrick Feller, Creative Commons.

Even if all of those factors are somehow minimized, cost is still an issue. Most persons with disabilities are already at a disadvantage economically. “Research consistently finds that disabled people are less likely to be in employment than non-disabled people and when employed they receive, on average, lower pay” (Equality and Human Rights Commission). In the most recent annual compendium of national disability statistics, individuals with disabilities had a poverty rate of 26.7% – considerably higher than the national poverty rate of 11.6%. Not only that, but the cost of living with disabilities is substantially higher. Accessible housing is difficult to find. Medical expenses can be astronomical. Adequate health insurance can be hard to come by without a full-time job, and full-time jobs are often impossible for persons with disabilities. With all that in mind, persons with disabilities have little room to afford higher-priced products.

I have personally faced harsh disdain from environmental activists on the wastefulness of the above products. Yet, for people like me who depend on those products, it feels like a knife in the gut to be shamed for choosing your own health over environmental welfare. That knife twists when it is made apparent that the health of persons with disabilities comes second to the health of marine animals. I care about sea creatures just as much as the next person does – maybe even more – but hear me out: the rights of persons with disabilities should be prioritized over the rights of sea turtles.

A sign that says "Drowning in Plastic" is hung on a fence surrounded by a string of empty plastic water bottles. — “Marrakech Climate March.” Source: Takver, Creative Commons.

So how do we bridge this gap? How can persons with disabilities engage in environmental activism without compromising their own health? The burden is not on us. Rather, it falls on the leaders of environmental campaigns as well as product manufacturers. Persons with disabilities already do what they can with the products that are available to them, and daily life is enough of a struggle. Most of us actually want to be included in environmental causes, but it has to fit into our daily spoon allocation. The solution? Make environmentalism more accessible. Manufacturers create the problem with the mass production of environmentally damaging products; individuals and environmental NGOs shape the narrative, focus, and reaction. Both ends must commit to an inclusive paradigm shift.

Environmental NGOs and their leaders must do a better job at listening to persons with disabilities in order to create a more inclusive approach. The focus of environmental campaigns matter – instead of demonizing plastic straws, find another plastic product that is more universally able to boycott. Remember that consumer activism isn’t limited to boycotting; try buycotting instead, which encourages consumers to spend their dollars on a company that shares their concerns and values. If you have the financial flexibility, spend a few dollars more on a sustainable product over a cheaper, less responsible option. You can read more about strategies of political consumerism here in a journal article by Lisa Neilson.

Alternatively, encourage the innovation of products that persons with disabilities depend on. If you have the skill and ability to develop an environmentally conscious product to genuinely replace items like plastic straws and baby wipes, do it! We can’t just give up our dependence on those items, but most of us would gladly make a more environmentally responsible choice if it were both available and affordable. Ideally, the environmental movement will develop a commitment for inclusivity so that persons with disabilities can fully engage without compromising their integrity. After all, we want the world to be better, too. We need the world to consider the human dignity of persons with disabilities as a co-requisite for environmental justice.

America’s Youngest Prisoners: Inhumanity of Family Detention

**As the US government flip-flops on its “zero-tolerance” Biblical mandated immigration policy that isn’t a policy but enforcement of the law, this repost, from this February, describes some of state-sanctioned child abuse and human rights violations experienced those seeking safety in “the land of the free and home of the brave.” You can read more information and some of the latest reports: here, here, here, including former first lady Laura Bush, and this video of UN High Commissioner for Human Rights.

The United States has long been lauded as the land of the free. As Americans, we have a tendency to consider our country to be an almost utopian land, far removed from the bleak landscapes and brutal violence of foreign countries that appear on the news. However, this ethnocentric attitude blinds us to the human rights abuses that happen frequently within our borders. Family detention centers are one such environment where human rights are regularly violated. The United States has three remaining family detention centers, referred to as “baby jails” by dissidents. Family detention has dwindled over the years due to protest, but our government currently detains close to 3,000 non-criminal immigrant mothers and children in horrifying conditions.

A couple sits next to a large wall with graffiti saying "Freedom," and "Take down this wall!" — Yarl’s Wood Protest. Source: iDJ Photography, Creative Commons.

“We are not delinquents who should be imprisoned.” – Eleven-year-old girl on her detention at Berks County Residential Center

Of the three family detention centers that remain open, the South Texas Family Residential Center (Dilley, Texas) is by far the largest. The other two centers, Karnes County Detention Center (Karnes City, Texas) and Berks County Detention Center (Leesport, Pennsylvania), hold less than 700 detainees combined. Dilley, as it is known, has a capacity for 2,400 inmates and, as of 2015, holds over 1,000 children and around 750 mothers. The fifty acres of land that comprise the Dilley center are dotted with small, two-bedroom, one-bathroom cottages with no kitchen, no telephones, and hold up to eight people per house. Nights in all centers are punctuated with officials checking in by shining flashlights on the sleeping families every fifteen minutes, reportedly causing insomnia and anxiety for the children. Medical care is essentially non-existent, as individuals report that the available doctors often only advise mothers to give their children water for any sickness they might have instead of prescribing medicine. On-site doctors have prescribed water instead of medical care for broken fingers, conjunctivitis, and even for a child who vomited blood, according to detainee’s reports.

A young child in a pink dress has her fingers held by a white-sleeved hand for an examination. — The Touch of Hands. Source: Alex Priomos, Creative Commons.

“Simply, they don’t care. What is more important for them is control. These are delicate situations when someone is sick and vulnerable. They just care about control. I thought I came to this country to escape abuse, mistreatment and disrespect. But it’s the same here.” – a detainee at the South Texas Family Residential Center

The conditions at these centers are incredibly dangerous for children and mothers. Many mothers at the center have already faced sexual assault, brutal violence, or threats of murder against them and their family. This would normally grant these families asylum status, which is a status granted to people who are unable to return to their home country for fear of persecution. Asylum status is granted partially on the basis of past abuse or violence enacted on a person by a foreign government, but trauma survivors often struggle sharing details that would ensure asylum. Most asylum hearings do not have childcare available, so mothers must choose between either sharing explicit traumas in front of their children in order to be granted asylum or minimizing their struggle to protect their children but be denied asylum. The conditions of the centers themselves also are fraught with abuse. An increase in violence in Central America has led to an influx of migrants from unstable countries; most of the detainees at detention centers are of Central or South American origin and predominantly speak Spanish. However, few staff members are fluent in Spanish and the subsequent miscommunication lead to abuse. The women are rarely allowed to speak on the phone, and it is next to impossible to obtain legal advice privately within the centers. This denies women the ability to detail abuses of the center without fear of retribution by the staff. Detainees have been raped and assaulted by guards without adequate punishment; in 2016, a guard was sentenced to less than two years in prison after being found guilty of institutionally raping a nineteen-year-old Honduran woman.

Additionally, the children are deeply at risk for developmental regression and major psychological trauma. According to a report by the child advocacy group First Focus, over half of all children in family detention centers are under the age of six. Children under six are undergoing crucial stages in their development, and can easily be traumatized for the rest of their lives if exposed to the stress of detention centers. Children who have been detained are shown to have increased psychological issues such as anxiety, depression, PTSD, self-harming, and suicidal thoughts or actions. Even short durations of being detained can have the same impact of week-long detention on children. Mothers have frequently reported their children losing unhealthy amounts of weight quickly, but doctors reportedly overlook the weight loss by claiming that the children are simply not used to the food or even claiming that they are bulimic. Children have been forced to sleep in rooms with non-related adults, creating a vulnerable situation that puts children at risk for sexual assault. At a now-closed center, kids as young as eighteen months were made to wear prison jumpsuits and expected to sleep in locked rooms with open-air toilets. Though the detention center where this occurred was shut down several years ago, similar abuses that display a blatant disregard for immigrant’s human rights have occurred in all family detention centers.

A crowd of people appear to be yelling as they hold signs that say "Close Karnes." — “Karnes Petition Delivery.” Source: WeAreUltraViolet, Creative Commons.

The overwhelming issue is that there is no legislation that ensures appropriate standards for immigrant detention. Management is left to the private companies who own the centers, and the desire for profit often overwhelms the adherence to ethical treatment. GEO Group, the company who runs Karnes, received $161 million in taxpayer dollars in 2015 from their contract with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Dilley, run by CoreCivic, generates 14% of the company’s income each year, despite owning seventy-four other prison centers– CoreCivic took away $71.6 million dollars from Dilley alone. These detention centers generate huge profits, which encourages the prison owners to fill beds with more detained immigrants. Last year, legislation was introduced in Texas to allow family detention centers to obtain child care facility licensing without meeting the minimum standards that other child care facilities must meet. Eventually, the bill was not passed and licensing was revoked from the Karnes center. However, the center continues to detain children. This is in direct violation of the Flores Agreement, which states that detained children must be kept in the least restrictive environment possible, requires child care licensing, and states that detainment for over three weeks is unlawful. Inaction from the government enables these centers to continue substandard practices that have harmed and will continue to harm children.

"Kids Out of Detention Centers" is stamped onto concrete in black ink with barbed wires surrounding the text. — Keep Kids Out of Detention Centers. Source: Stephen Mitchell, Creative Commons.

The government justifies the practice of detainment through “aggressive deterrence strategy,” which is meant to dissuade more migrants from attempting to gain entry to the United States. This strategy is not effective; the mass violence that many immigrants flee from is far deadlier than the misery of detainment, though both are damaging to families. Women with children are the least mobile group among communities in conflict, and often only flee in the face of real danger. Essentially, families who have fled violence must go somewhere, and the United States is both geographically convenient and generally safe. To deny families refuge is cruel enough, but to create more misery, vulnerability and trauma through inhumane detainment should be an unacceptable practice. We cannot deny that the United States is violating the human rights of thousands of children and mothers. Children in detention centers have a right to education, a right to an adequate standard of health, and the right to freedom from torture, along with all other human rights as defined by the UDHR. Educational needs have not been met by any standard, available healthcare is abominable, and much of the circumstances for detained children could be defined as torture or degrading treatment. Beyond this, the practice of family detention alone is a violation of the human rights of many detained children, as the Convention on the Rights of the Child states:

“No child shall be deprived of his or her liberty unlawfully or arbitrarily. The arrest, detention or imprisonment of a child shall be in conformity with the law and shall be used only as a measure of last resort and for the shortest appropriate period of time.”

The conditions in which these vulnerable groups have been forced into are inhumane and dangerous. The detainment of children at U.S. centers rarely conform to the law adequately and detainment periods are often months long. Family detention is punitive by nature, yet none of the detained mothers or children in family detention centers are detained on the basis of crime. Data collected by the Detention Watch Network shows that the majority of families in the centers qualify for asylum status and therefore deserve to be freed, but institutional obstacles prevented the obtainment of that status. Families in detainment simply seek safety and protection from violent conflict in their home country. The mother who make the decision to uproot their homes in search of a better life have not committed a crime, and neither have the children who accompany them. The United States is actively harming a blameless population who has already been subject to trauma and abuse. This problem is not confined to the United States; family detainment occurs around the world in varying degrees of injustice from Australia to Israel. It is essential to call attention to this issue in order to preserve the human rights of children internationally. The global community must condemn the actions of any government that engages in the inhumane practice family detention.

America: No Country For New Moms

This repost is in honor of this Sunday: Mother’s Day. Happy Mother’s Day in advance to all every MOM!!

The jarring sound of their discontented newborn’s piercing screams haunt many new mothers’ dreams—that is, if they can find the peace and quiet to fall asleep in the first place. It is an indisputable fact that having a new baby is incredibly difficult, exhausting, and wildly expensive. The costs continually rack up: costly medical care (for mom and baby), cribs, strollers, clothes, pacifiers, toys, mountains of diapers, hygiene products, etc. The list is nearly inexhaustible, and that’s just the bare minimum. Let’s take a look at the average cost of having a young child for the average family.

For families whose income level is at or under the median American income, the average monthly cost of a child under two is about $800. The average income of this group is $24,400 – this means that after expenditures on children, the average low-income family only has about $1,200 left to spend on their own food, healthcare, transportation, and emergency costs per month. The numbers only get more dire from here. For the 60% of single-mother families in poverty, the average monthly income ($1,387) minus costs of one child allows for about $600 a month for all the costs of daily living (Poverty Threshold 2016). This is the bare minimum with no money budgeted for entertainment, self-care, or emergency bills.

Maternity leave appears to be an additional luxury for families with non-working individuals and those who can afford designer diaper bags and color-coordinated nurseries. Often outsiders may conclude businesses or governments should not pay maternity leave; however, for many, every penny is absolutely crucial to maintain the very basic needs of their family. For these families, maternity leave is not a luxury, but a necessity. All those shocking numbers miss a crucial point. These statistics, as appalling as they are, are for the lucky minority of mothers who can secure an income during pregnancy and the period following childbirth.

In America, 88% of mothers are unable to receive pay for maternity leave. Federal law requires that companies larger than 50 employees must provide 12 weeks of maternity leave, but that leave is unpaid. For single mothers in poverty, it is estimated $4,161 in paychecks stop; significant money they could use for diapers, food, medicine, and bills. Over a third of mothers end up taking no formal time off from work, leaving their babies in costly childcare programs and often still suffering from the emotional and physical strain from childbirth when returning. Imagine growing an entire human being inside your womb for nine months, going through the arduous process of childbirth, and then having to return to your exhausting job as a fast food service worker two days later. That situation may seem like an exaggeration, but many mothers have these circumstances. This is a disservice to their humanity.

Baby Toes. Source: Jake Guild, Creative Commons.

It is seemingly simple to ignore the suffering of such a vulnerable part of our population. Legislators seek to refuse abortions to women; however, they, at the very least, owe them the means to provide a safe, healthy, and nurturing environment to raise their baby. America is one of only three countries in the world deny paid maternity leave along with Oman and Papua New Guinea. Some may praise this policy (or lack thereof) for allowing the private sector to be more flexible or for conserving federal tax dollars. After all, why would anyone pay their employees when they are not even working? The truth of the matter is that paid maternity leave has an overwhelmingly positive impact on mothers, their children, and the company itself.

To consider some international policies, Finnish mothers can receive 17.5 weeks of maternity leave with up to 78% of their pay, along with essentials like bedding, clothing, and hygiene supplies. Stunningly, Bulgarian mothers have the option of nearly five years (58.6 weeks) of maternity leave with 90% of their salary. An in-depth study conducted by the University of North Carolina on European maternity leave policies found that paid maternity leave is indeed a cost-effective way for mothers to improve the health and success of their children. Paid-leave programs reduce infant mortality and increase pediatric health due to the ability of mothers to invest more time into their children. A Norwegian study conducted over seventeen years concluded that children whose mothers received paid maternity leave had higher IQs and higher college attendance rates than children of mothers who did not. This conclusively tells us that paid maternity leave is cost-effective, improves the health of children, reduces deaths, and ensures higher rates of success.

What does this lack of protection for new moms say about American culture? Do we not value our women or children? The United States has lagged behind in policies to promote women and children for decades. The policy that mandated twelve weeks of unpaid maternity leave was instituted in 1993. Prior to that, pregnant women and new mothers had no choice but to either lose their jobs or work in dangerous conditions for their health. Additionally, the U.S. has still not signed the Convention on the Rights of the Child (1989) or the Convention to Eliminate All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW 1979), though both have been signed by almost all other nations. Even when the legislation and infrastructure is there to offer some assistance to pregnant women, mothers, and children, American society seems resistant to those policies.

New mothers under the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (known as WIC) often face stigma when buying their grocery items. The WIC program has strict limits on the amount and type of products that you can buy, so it’s easy to make mistakes and then hold up the checkout line accidentally. Mothers I personally know who participate in the WIC program have relayed their experiences of other customers scoffing, making rude remarks, and even confronting them while checking out. Participating in any welfare program tends to generate harsh criticism, making welfare users feel ashamed and stigmatized. The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) in particular has been characterized as being abused by people who only buy junk food and refuse to work. This is not the case: more than half of SNAP participants are children; data does not back up the rumors that SNAP benefits are disproportionately used to buy junk food; and the program has not been shown to discourage work (Dewey).

As far as benefit programs tailored specifically for new parents go, state policies across the U.S. have not been much better than it is at the national level. Only three states (California, Rhode Island, and New Jersey) currently have paid leave programs, though a fourth, New York, is soon to join in January 2018. Other states have classified pregnancy as a temporary disability, which allows new mothers to receive benefits from disability programs. Though beneficial and certainly needed, this practice is problematic as it reduces funding available for persons with disabilities instead of developing additional funding for new families. Alabama has no law that mandates paid leave or allows any form of additional benefits.

The University of Alabama at Birmingham has a recently instituted program that allows for up to four weeks of paid parental leave, but most other large employers in the state, including the University of Alabama, do not offer any paid leave.

A woman sits on a playground next to her young daughter. — Mom and Daughter. Source: Donnie Ray Jones, Creative Commons.

Why you should care? Basic empathy aside, international declarations and laws set several standards that impact how countries should treat pregnant women and new families. Article 25 of the UDHR states that “motherhood and childhood are entitled to special care and assistance. All children, whether born in or out of wedlock, shall enjoy the same social protection.” Additionally, according to Article 23, “everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work.” American policy violates these globally accepted norms, as it has systematically denied proper care and assistance to mothers and children, as well as furthered the gender pay gap by obstructing mothers from earning income, hindering advancement in their career, and causing many to lose their jobs from sheer inability to work in the little time provided to recover. Though the United States has not ratified CEDAW which would make paid maternity leave a legal right, our nation still has the obligation to improve gender equality and promote the well-being of women and children.

Old Habits Die Hard: The Self-Perpetuating Cycle of Ageism

Most of us have been told at some point to respect our elders. Opening doors, assisting in street transit, carrying groceries — all of these social niceties are expected to be paid specifically to older members of society. Respect for elders seems to occur universally as a cultural norm. Korean culture joyfully celebrates the one’s sixtieth birthday as the passage into old age, while honorific suffixes such as “-ji” in Hindi and “mzee” in Swahili indicate longstanding cultural respect for one’s elders. Some Ecuadorian cultures believe that their elder shamans, or mengatoi, become powerfully magical as they age (Jacobs). China even made it illegal to neglect one’s parents, outlining the legal duties of adult children to include frequent visitation and “occasional greetings” (Wong). Older people in America engage in vigorous self-advocacy, making the AARP one of the largest interest groups in the nation at nearly forty million members.

Happy Parishioners. Source: Joonas Tikkanen, Creative Commons.

So why then does society reflect the exact opposite of these norms? Old people are treated as feeble, unfortunate beings who are shown courtesy in public and yet face widespread discrimination. Both pernicious and insidious, ageism is defined as “the stereotyping and discrimination against individuals or groups on the basis of their age; [forms of ageism can include] prejudicial attitudes, discriminatory practices, or institutional policies and practices that perpetuate stereotypical beliefs” (World Health Organization). Ageism is an “ism” that is just as socially impactful as other forms of discrimination, yet the topic is rarely addressed and often disregarded. Despite lack of discursive engagement, ageism is a unique type of social discrimination in that it can transcend all other human identities. The process of aging affects every human being regardless of one’s sexuality, race, and political ideology. Most of us will eventually pass the cursed line that society demarcates between youth and old age and must suffer from the hostile, deeply discriminatory system that we ourselves once benefited from in our youth — and what a pervasive system it is. Surveys show that a whopping 80% of people over sixty have experienced some form of ageism (Dittman). Tad Friend supplies this neatly unpacked explanation in an article published by the New Yorker:

“Like the racist and the sexist, the ageist rejects an Other based on a perceived difference. But ageism is singular, because it’s directed at a group that at one point wasn’t the Other—and at a group that the ageist will one day, if all goes well, join. The ageist thus insults his own future self.”

The Long Road. Source: Hansel and Regrettal, Creative Commons.

In just two years, it is predicted that more people will be over the age of sixty-five than under the age of five for the first time in Earth’s history (United States Census Bureau). In fact, according to the United Nations, the number of older persons is increasing more rapidly than other age group. This phenomenon is known as the “graying” of a population, and constitutes an urgent issue for affected countries. As people age, they become less able to physically care for themselves and usually exit the workforce at some point to retire for the latter part of their lives. As health conditions do generally worsen with age, the demand for medical and/or personal support services grows as older people continue to age and retire.

This becomes an issue when the size of a country’s workforce becomes insufficient to fill the demands of service-dependant older people. In nations with large workforces, the opposite issue — lack of opportunity for employment — still disproportionately harms older people. Many industries, particularly in America, push out older applicants and terminate veteran employees in favor of younger options. As industry culture has begun to tilt in favor of youth, older people have experienced a massive amount of workplace ageism. Nearly 65% of Americans between the ages of 45 and 60 had either seen or experienced age-based discrimination in the workplace (AARP). This may seem like a trivial issue, but unemployment is a dangerous state to endure at advanced ages. Worsening health conditions go hand in hand with both lower income and increased age; the combination of these factors can be fatal.

An elderly Sudanese womangets ready to receive her ration of emergency food aid. — Elderly Woman Receives Emergency Food Aid. Source: Tim McKulka/UN Photo, Creative Commons.

So why does ageism even exist? Princeton researchers found that most ageist arguments stem from issues with consumption (old people already consume too many scarce resources), identity (old people try to act younger than they are), or succession (old people had their turn, now they should move out of the workforce/society to make space for the new generation). All of these issues — consumption, identity, and succession — frame humanity in a way that associates one’s value with their usefulness to society. However, human beings should not be defined by their utility. Simply put, old people exist. They form one of the largest populations on the planet, and are rapidly growing. We cannot deny older people the dignity that we (supposedly) award to all else simply because they are perceived as “useless” to society. Human rights cannot and should not be applied conditionally.

This unfortunate phenomenon is surrounded by the related topic of disability. According to the 2016 Disability Statistics Annual Report, 35.4% of Americans over the age of 65 had a disability, which is over three times higher than the rate of working-age (18-64) Americans at 10.4%. Like advanced age, disability is also perceived as a barrier to social utility. Age and disability together form a potent one-two punch of compound discrimination, making older people with disabilities extremely vulnerable to abuse and exploitation.

An old woman sits at a window next to a yellow flower in a vase. — Untitled. Source: Bas Bogers, Creative Commons.

Elder abuse, as it is termed, is widespread but often under-reported. National rates are reported to be around 10%, though researchers at the prominent New York Elder Prevention Society found self-reported rates of elder abuse to be up to 24 times higher than the documented rate. Only 3% of older people in New York officially reported any form of elder abuse, though nearly three-quarters self-reported that they have experienced neglect or financial, physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. This number may be inflated by the instances where individuals experience multiple types of abuse, making exact numbers more difficult to isolate. The most common forms of elder abuse are financial and physical/sexual abuse, which can occur concurrently.

Nursing homes, meant to protect and nurture their patients, are actually one of the most dangerous environments for vulnerable older persons with disabilities. The Nursing Home Abuse Center reports a nursing home abuse rate of about 44%, and a neglect rate of nearly 95%. Elder abusers are rarely prosecuted due to stigma, social isolation of the victim, lack of support services, inaccessible reporting, and proximity of abusers. Relatives constitute about 90% of elder abuse perpetrators, which often makes the victim reluctant to prosecute their own spouses, adult children, or other relatives.

Skin. Source: Victor Camilo, Creative Commons.

Direct abuse and neglect of the elderly is widely sustained by the deeply pervasive public attitude of hostility towards aging. Beauty products are regularly marketed as “anti-aging,” covering up the crows’ feet, varicose veins, liver spots and silver hairs that inevitably accompany a well-lived life. Most of the stigma is inevitably directed at aging women, as femininity carries the heavy burden of visual appeal. The cosmetic surgery industry is booming as women are pressured to appear as veritable supermodels long after the glow of youth has faded. Social media surrounds us with visuals of gorgeous, toned, smooth-skinned women who never seem to age a day, while the rest of us have to keep up with whatever products, surgeries or diets we can find.

Gone are the days where women past a certain age could relax into frumpy mom jeans and orthopedic tennis shoes without fearing judgment. Modern grandmothers now face the strenuous expectation to maintain a Helen Mirren-esque figure with the style and poise of Meryl Streep. Notably, these two women are some of the very few well-known older actresses; both have had to work tirelessly to achieve that notoriety, considering Streep’s record-breaking two-dozen Academy Award nominations and Mirren’s prestigious Triple Crown of Acting that has only ever been awarded to 23 people. It’s undeniable that Hollywood has a major problem with representation of women over thirty. Men in the acting industry get a few extra decades of “silver fox” stardom while women face rejection at first wrinkle.

An older couple links arms as they carry bags and walk together. — Lean on Me. Source: Amro, Creative Commons.

Ageism sometimes feels like an inescapable facet of society, but it shouldn’t have to be. Encouraging and celebrating old age will eventually serve to benefit everyone, as positive attitudes towards aging have been shown to increase lifespan by nearly eight years. Elderly people have had autonomy and dignity systematically stolen from them through attitudes of derision and pity– they are constantly viewed as either cantankerous burdens to society or doddering, wretched old fools. One’s social contribution or lack thereof should not be a determinant in preserving human dignity. After all, human rights are for all humans, right?

From here, we have to do better on a global scale. Any success in reducing ageism requires confrontation of our own internal prejudices, since youth are the major perpetrators of age-based discrimination. The efforts we make today in reducing oppression for older individuals will directly impact our future experiences. Psychologists have found three major components essential to active engagement in fighting ageism:

Social integration
- Often, elderly individuals are unable to fully participate in society due to social hostility and lack of accessibility. Many of us have not been educated on topics relating to older people, and some even may find engaging with the elderly to feel uncomfortable. Fuller integration into society would foster respect for the aged community, as increased public presence of older individuals would promote culture of tolerance.
Reduce cultural shame
- Current media culture is incredibly toxic towards older people, and portrays the elderly in a negative light far too frequently. Advertisements should attempt to portray older people with respect to their human dignity, rather than the foolish, bumbling representations that are far too common in current media.
Accept aging as a fact of life
- Ageism often stems from personal fears of death and dying. This fear is incredibly common but damaging to both society at large and to individuals who hold them– ironically, negative attitudes towards aging have been shown to decrease lifespans. To combat this, old age should be normalized and celebrated.

Clearly, ageism is not something that can be eradicated at all once. It requires active change on both an institutional and personal level, as age-based discrimination is deeply ingrained in cultural attitudes and everyday interactions. Monumental as it may seem, ageism is still an issue that we must tackle if we ourselves are to experience old age with the dignity that all humans deserve. So remember to always respect your elders, whether out of regard for human dignity, self-preservation, or both.