Improving Experiences of Time in Prison and Their Outcomes
Many of the aspects of the First Step Act are geared towards decreasing recidivism (people returning to criminal behavior after being released from prison) through opportunities and resources that help prepare people for their lives after incarceration. For example, the bill creates strong incentives to encourage prisoners to participate in preparative programs that are available to them. For every 30 days of “successful participation,” individuals can receive 10 days of prerelease custody, where they are transferred to halfway houses or home confinement. Incentives can also include increased phone and visitation privileges, access to email, increased commissary spending, and other requested incentives.
The bill also designates $250 million to be used over five years by the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) to expand and develop skill-building classes and vocational training opportunities. It also allows the BOP to work with outside organizations that can provide such classes. According to the First Step Act, prisoners who are at a medium or high risk of recidivism are to be prioritized for receiving these opportunities, as well as counseling and treatment. Before leaving federal prison, all are to receive their ID, allowing people to re-enter society more quickly and avoid “collateral consequences of incarceration.”
In order to make it less difficult for families to visit, the bill states that people should not be placed in prisons that are more than “500 driving miles” away from their families. This improves their ability to maintain ties with their relatives, which can improve their quality of life while incarcerated and make the process of reintegration into society easier afterwards. With the help of a strong support system and the tools needed to find work, released prisoners have a better chance of finding their place in their communities and not being reincarcerated later.
Decreasing the Population Actually in Prison
There are some aspects of the First Step Act that help to decrease the population of people in prison. Increases the number of days of good time credit, which is earned through good behavior, from 47 to 54 days per year. This change also applies to everyone in federal prisons who has already earned good time credit. It is estimated that this change will save $40 million in the first year. Additionally, the bill required the BOP to transfer prisoners that are considered low/minimum risk to prerelease custody and expanded compassion release. Eligibility for the elderly offender program of compassion release now starts at age 60 instead of 65, the minimum portion of one’s sentence that must be served has been decreased from 75% to 66.7%, and the program is now available in all prisons.
Views of the Purpose of Prison
One’s understanding of the importance of legislation like the First Step Act can be significantly impacted by their perspective on the purposes of prisons. Some people believe that prisons should be used to achieve retributive justice, where the main purpose is to punish criminals for their wrong-doings and to have them suffer for their action. For someone who believes in retributive justice, the changes made by the First Step Act may not seem so important.
Alternatively, other people believe that the incarceration system should be used to rehabilitate prisoners and prepare them to re-enter society as individuals who can make more positive contributions to their community and avoid taking actions that would lead them back to imprisonment. When you look at the First Step Act from this point of view, it is easy to see why the bill’s intended impacts are so significant. It gives people a chance to learn from their mistakes and helps them become more productive members of society.
p1000578.jpg. Source: David Johnson, Creative Commons
The intended outcomes of the First Step Act can improve the access to human rights of people who have been incarcerated. As it is said in the UN’s Basic Principles for the Treatment of Prisoners, prisoners are entitled to all the rights that are declared in the UDHR and other human rights documents and should have access to resources that can aid their ability to successfully rejoin society. Decreasing rates of recidivism, as the actions of the First Step Act hopefully will, helps to lower the number of people in prison overall. This allows for a change in the allocation of funds to take better care of people living in prisons, giving them greater access to their human rights. People living in prisons are human beings just like everyone else and should not be treated as anything less.
The ongoing debate about climate change never seems to become resolved because there are certain people who believe in it and others who refuse to believe it. However, both sides often forget about climate refugees, a fairly new term that has no formal definition or protection under international law. As of 2008, millions of people lose their homes to weather disasters. Other aspects such as desert expansion and sea levels rising also affect people in terms of where and how they live. Scientists say the three most endangered regions are sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America while a World Bank report estimates that by 2050, those three endangered regions will consist of 143 million people who are displaced.
Climate Change and its effects
According to scientists, climate refugees consist of “people who must leave their homes and communities because of the effects of climate change and global warming.” Climate change pertains to the change of a climate in a region, while global warming is how the average temperature of the Earth is rising. As a result, global warming is leading to climate change. Rising temperatures due to global warming can cause glaciers to melt which can lead to flooding and the rising of sea levels. Furthermore, it can lead to droughts and desertification. These results of global warming can make the land people live on uninhabitable and make it difficult for people to survive.
In Bangladesh, thousands of people are affected by flooding each year, especially in Dhaka. In West Africa, Lake Chad is almost completely gone due to desertification. These problems are not just limited to the developing world. In the United States, approximately 2,300 Puerto Rican families who were displaced due to Hurricane Maria are looking for permanent housing. Additionally, small coastal communities in areas like Alaska and Louisiana are fading into oblivion due to rising sea levels.
In Europe, a journal estimated that if global temperature trends continue, applications for asylum to the European Union would increase by 28% by the year 2100. Additionally, many climate refugees live in rural or coastal communities and are forced to migrate to urban areas. Their skills, such as farming, are not beneficial in urban areas. Thus, finding a job can be difficult. Climate refugees who leave their country can face struggles when adjusting to new laws, languages, or cultures.
According to the development expert at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, Yayboke, the biggest problem that arises is there are millions of people who are considered a climate refugee, but there is no consensus as to what we can do about them. There are currently no international laws that protect climate refugees and they can be sent back to their homelands or forced into refugee camps. The reason that the term climate change is ambiguous is due to “the effectiveness of rights and legal certainty”. Since it is not covered by the law, there are no guaranteed international protections. Another source of ambiguity arises when you need to determine why those individuals were displaced. Was it actually due to climate change or was it because of another reason? For example, say there is a drought and a farmer moves to another area in order to find other work. Did the farmer move due to climate change or because the economy has no alternatives for employment? The term “climate refugee” tends to be associated with a variety of factors and not simply just climate change. Thus, an absolute definition is hard to define.
Another major problem is how climate refugees are not covered by the 1951 Convention in regard to the Global Compact of Refugees. Their definition of refugees has nothing to do with individuals who are displaced due to environmental factors. Thus, the term ‘climate refugee’ does not fall under the score of the 1951 Refugee Convention and their protocol. Therefore, individuals who are displaced cannot be classified as refugees and cannot appeal for resettlement and are “trapped in worsening environmental conditions”. However, a counterargument is that those who are displaced due to the environment could rely on the protection of their national government, whereas the traditional refugee cannot rely on the national government because they tend to be the source of persecution.
Climate refugees is a vague term that is hard to define. However, the economic, social, and political consequences are apparent and need to be addressed. Based on the global compact on migration and the international climate, one of the most salient ways to address this burgeoning human rights issue is for there to be numerous regional agreements that influence the creation of international law for climate refugees.
Saudi Arabia is in the Middle East and occupies about “four-fifths of the Arabian Peninsula”. It is home to Islam’s two holiest cities, Mecca and Medina. When thinking of Saudi Arabia, most people associate it with religion, petroleum wealth, and tribalism. Although, throughout the years, Saudi Arabia has become more urban while experiencing vast technological, educational, social, and economic changes. However, in terms of women’s rights, Saudi Arabia has received much backlash.
Women’s Rights Timeline in Saudi Arabia
In 1955, Saudi Arabia’s first school for girls was created and, in 1970, the first university for women opened its doors. In 2001, women were allowed to get personal identification cards as long as they had permission from their guardian. Furthermore, it was issued to the guardian, not the women. Until 2005, it was cultural practice for women to be forced into marriages even though it was considered illegal. Four years later, in 2009, the first female government minister, Noura al-Fayez, was appointed. In 2012, women were allowed to compete in the Olympics on the national team for the first time. Before the 2012 Olympic Games, there was a possibility that Saudi Arabia could be banned due to gender discrimination. A year later, women could ride bicycles and motorcycles in recreational areas but only if they wear the full Islamic body covering and have a male relative present. That same year, 30 women were sworn into the consultative council, the Shura. In 2015, women could run for office for the first time, which resulted in 20 women being elected to municipal roles in the absolute monarchy. Beginning just last year, women can now go to the sports stadiums and drive. Furthermore, in order for women to get their driver license, they do not need permission from a male guardian and can drive by themselves. Finally, in 2019, there a new law established where women would receive a text message if they got divorced, whereas in the past, their marriage could end without their knowledge. Additionally, they can check their marital status online or in court, but only if she has her husband’s approval or if he has harmed her. Many of these policy reforms still include male supervision. While persecution is a high risk, women are willing to fight for their freedom.
One of the most common reasons women flee Saudi Arabia is due to the restrictions placed on where women can travel. Women are not given the right to leave the country without their male guardian’s permission. Furthermore, a woman’s ability to choose her marriage partner is solely dependent on the permission of their male guardian. In January 2019, the country set the minimum age of marriage at 18, but girls aged 15-18 can still become married without the court’s approval. Other reasons include but are not limited to domestic violence, discrimination in employment and healthcare, and inequality in divorce, child custody, and inheritance.
In Saudi Arabia, there is an app called Absher, which the government can access. The purpose of the app is for men to approve or deny women to go abroad. As mentioned earlier, some women have tried fleeing the country and must do this secretly due to not having permission from their male guardian. In this case, technology is detrimental for women’s rights because it places a limitation on their freedom. Technological advancement makes it easier for men to have power over women by “policing” the women’s movement. Whenever a woman wants to go to the airport, she cannot leave without the government and her guardian knowing because they receive a text alert; people have gotten around this system. For example, Salwa left Saudi Arabia by getting her father’s phone and replacing his information with her information. Thus, she was able to make consent for her sister and herself, although risking legal consequences. People believe that these apps are causing discrimination to become more normalized. Unfortunately, even though the companies are aware of the circumstances, removing the app would not solve women’s issues in Saudi Arabia. The government in Saudi Arabia has a website that comprises of the same functionality as the app does.
Free. Source: Max Pixel, Creative Commons.
The Future
During a session of the United Nations General Assembly in New York, leaders of Saudi Arabia discussed their goal of developing the country by increasing participation from women. In fact, the number of female diplomats has expanded steadily over the years. While the future for Saudi Arabia’s women is unknown, there is “cautious optimism” in regards to women having a bigger role in society and politics.
Nyaya Health: A chant and a dance on the practice of Chhaupadi by the CHWLs and FCHVs. Source: Possible: Creative Commons.
Menstruation and birth control.
Discussing these topics sometimes makes people uncomfortable. Why? Society sometimes says that we’re not supposed to talk about what happens down there, that they’re just not proper topics for everyday conversation. Could this discomfort be due to the fact that men have often traditionally served as political leaders, media gatekeepers, and educational instructors? Women’s power, voices, and advancement opportunities have been limited. So have their concerns, even if they’re everyday issues that women have faced since the dawn of time.
Such concerns are extremely important to the survival of our species. Menstruation and birth control are crucial parts of life. Without menstruation and everything that accompanies it, we wouldn’t be here. Depending if people have access to it, birth control is also a factor that can greatly improve or hinder a woman’s quality of life. But, these topics are often taboo. People don’t want to talk about them. People often can’t talk about them or do anything about them. Or, if people talk or act on these topics, they may face stigmas and punishments. Living normally during menstruation and controlling one’s reproductive destiny should be vital human rights everywhere. They’re often not, which has created inconveniences, obstacles, and even tragedy. Luckily, individuals and groups are shedding light on menstruation and birth control and how they impact women and the greater culture.
Menstruation discrimination
Although banned by law, menstruation huts are still a reality in some rural areas of Nepal. They’re part of traditions stating that menstruating women or women who have just given birth are impure or the bearers of bad luck. These beliefs have led people to banish menstruating women to live in huts or cattle sheds, prevent them from touching farm animals, and forbid them from eating certain foods.
Known as chhaupadi, this practice of separating women from the general population puts women at risk. Many of the huts lack heat or bathroom facilities or are far removed from the rest of society. In 2019, a woman and her two children died after they inhaled smoke from a fire inside of this type of hut. A teenager died in 2017 from a snakebite she received while staying in a hut. People who live in such huts may have to travel miles to use toilets, wash, and gather supplies. They cannot attend school and their employment opportunities may be limited.
Under chhaupadi, disadvantaged women face even more obstacles that prevent them from overcoming their disadvantages and improving their lives. They do not have the full measure of human rights that males enjoy, simply because they are menstruating. Similar fears about female impurity have long banned women of menstruating age from the Hindu Sabarimala temple complex in India. As part of a number of protests, two women defied this ban and entered the temple in 2019. Their actions sparked further protests for and against women’s rights in the region and ignited international debate.
Positive period news
In a positive period-related development, access to feminine hygiene products is increasing for many. The states of Illinois, California, and New York provide free sanitary products for their public school students. Educational institutions such as the University of Washington also offer such products and other schools are considering it. These efforts are global. The government of Scotland provides free sanitary products to students who attend schools, colleges, and universities as well as to people who visit leisure centers and libraries. Several states in the United States have also removed the sales tax for such products (the tampon tax) or are considering doing so.
Period. End of Sentence is an Academy Award-winning short documentary that also testifies to the power of proper period care. Directed by Rayka Zehtabchi and produced by Melissa Berton, the film depicts efforts in India to provide sanitary products, end stigma about menstruation, and improve the lives of women and girls. “I can’t believe a film about menstruation just won an Oscar!” said Zehtabchi. The filmmakers acknowledged that Indian initiatives can help girls pursue schooling. “A period should end a sentence, not a girl’s education,” said Berton. Girls in India missed school 20 percent of the time because of menstruation, according to a report by the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). Females who lack sanitary products might use hay, old fabric, rags, or other products during menstruation, which can lead to unsanitary conditions and infections. It could make menstruation more visible and thus subject to scrutiny and stigma, eroding girls’ self-esteem and confidence in their abilities.
Others question whether menstruation really causes girls to leave school but acknowledge that taboos surrounding menstruation do indeed exist. Supporting girls and women is vital. “Providing girls with a product can only get you so far if you don’t have the enabling environment in the school, supportive teachers, and information about what’s happening to your body,” said Columbia University professor Marni Sommer on a National Public Radio interview. Proper period care “is a human right,” noted Sommer. “We shouldn’t have to justify that girls are deserving of an environment where they can just meet their basic bodily needs.”
Destigmatizing menstruation and providing access to menstruation products may create more equality. If women and girls face discrimination and lack essential hygiene products, they may stay home from work, school, civic engagements, and social events. They cannot fully participate in their lives and the lives of others. People who lack sanitary products live lives similar to women who live under the practice of chhaupadi. Just because they menstruate, women and girls affected by both cannot fully engage with the outside world. People are working to highlight and change this.
Source: Creative Commons
The cost of unintended pregnancies
Access to birth control is also an important driver of human rights. Like sanitary products, effective and accessible birth control products provide physical and mental health benefits. Both can be valuable tools for improving and sustaining human rights. Physically, birth control helps women prevent pregnancies. This sounds obvious, but it means so much. Pregnancy and labor take tremendous physical tolls on women. Even after childbirth, breastfeeding mothers’ bodies are not entirely their own, and mothers face the physical and mental strain of raising children and running households.
Mental strain can be considerable for mothers. They are charged with taking care of themselves and their children and completing other tasks, such as working various jobs, helping their families, and fulfilling other responsibilities, not to mention trying to find time to pursue various interests. It can be difficult enough to do those things when they’re deliberate choices when women plan the size of their families. Not having access to birth control makes this precarious juggling act even more difficult. Becoming pregnant unintentionally may impact women’s health since they’re gaining weight, dealing with hormone fluctuations, and experiencing other intense physical changes related to pregnancy. Mentally, they may be facing the stress, anxiety, and depression of unwanted pregnancies and the profound life changes they may create.
Unintentional pregnancies can also burden women and their families financially. Women may take unpaid maternity leaves, turn down promotions or specific positions, or quit their jobs to raise children. They may have to allocate a considerable part of their incomes to pay for childcare. Mothers who re-enter the workplace may not earn the same incomes, have access to the same opportunities, or achieve the same advancements as colleagues who never left the paid workforce. Health and financial issues, unintended pregnancies, and other types of stress can strain women’s relationships with their partners. It could cause women to feel unfulfilled with their lives and feel that they’re not doing all that they want to do because they must fulfill the various responsibilities in their lives.
The worth of birth control
Birth control may shift this balance, helping women do what they want to do instead of what they feel they must do. Access to birth control gives women agency. There are mixed messages about this agency. Just as some higher education institutions are providing sanitary products, some are providing birth control access to their students. Arguably, they’re not providing full access. For example, institutions such as the University of Oregon operate health centers that employ pharmacists who prescribe birth control pills and other forms of contraception. They do so without appointments and charge $15.00 per visit. Not requiring appointments may make it easier for students to visit in spite of busy schedules. Charging $15.00 might make it easier for students for affording such visits. On the other hand, the university isn’t paying for birth control itself. Students must use health insurance or pay out-of-pocket to cover the costs of birth control. This means that people may go without much-needed birth control because they can’t afford it. They may not be able to pay for the $15.00 pharmacist visitation fee or other costs as well.
Sanitary napkins, tampons, birth control pills, and other forms of contraception often aren’t expensive, but the lack of them are. Women who don’t have them may face much more expensive financial, emotional, and physical costs in the future. Providing assistance and access to such items can change an individual woman’s life and transform society as a whole.
About the author: Pamela Zuber is a writer and editor who has written about human rights, health and wellness, business, and gender.
Peru. Women in the Colca valley. Source: Pedro Szekely, Creative Commons
Today is International Women’s Day. This year’s theme is “Think Equal, Build Smart, Innovate for Change.” In her context statement about the theme, UN Women Executive Director Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka states that the changing world continues to shape the lives of people and “we have to be intentional about its use to positively impact the lives of women and girls. [The theme] puts innovation at the centre of efforts to reflect the needs and viewpoints of women and girls and to resolve barriers to public services and opportunities.” Innovation highlights the game-changers and activists willing to “accelerate progress for gender equality, encourage investment in gender-responsive social systems, and build services and infrastructure that meet the needs of women and girls.” The goal of today is to celebrate the incredible achievements of women and girls who seek to overcome their marginalized status in their communities, level the representation across various academic disciplines and professional fields and undo the cycles of intersectional injustices to bring about a more equitable world.
History
What started as a response to a women’s labor strike in New York 1909 became an international movement to honor the rights of women and to garner support for universal women’s suffrage. In 1913-14, International Women’s Day was a tactic to protest World War I as a part of the peace movement. The UN adopted 8 March as the official date in 1975 during the International Year of Women. Gender equality and the empowerment of all women and girls is Sustainable Development Goal #5 in 2015.
Celebrating some game-changers and activists
The list below is not extensive. Its purpose is to assist you in your search to discover and know what women are doing and have done around the world.
Kiara Nirghin: Won Google Science Fair for creating an orange and avocado peel mixture to fight against drought conditions around the world. She will join Secretary-General António Guterres.
Elizabeth Hausler: Founder of BuildChange.org, an organization that trains builders, homeowners, and governments to build disaster-resistant homes in nations often affected by earthquakes and typhoons.
Jaha Dujureh: Founder of SafeHandsforGirls.org, an organization fighting to end child marriage and female genital mutilation (FGM).
BlackGirlsCode.com: A San Francisco based organization seeking to increase the number of girls from marginalized communities in STEM fields by 2040.
Shakhodat Teshebayeva: When the water crisis threatened her livelihood, she organized and mobilized a women’s group to advocate for a place for women at the discussion table regarding equal access to water.
Wangari Maathai: late Nobel Peace Prize Laureate from Kenya who initiated the GreenBeltMovement.org by planting trees for the cultivation of sustainable development and peace.
Una Mulale: the only pediatric critical care doctor in Botswana who works to combine medicine and art to bring healing to the body and the soul.
The Ladypad Project
This coming week, Dr. Tina Kempin Reuter and Dr. Stacy Moak will take 12 UAB students to the Maasai Mara in Kenya. The team, in collaboration with the I See Maasai Development Initiative, will fund education on women’s health rights and provide 1500 girls with materials, including underwear and reusable pads, for menstrual hygiene management. The project was awarded a grant through Birmingham’s Independent Presbyterian Church Foundation.
Continuing the Fight
International Women’s Day is not only about celebrating the accomplishments of women and girls, but it is also about shining a light on the continuing injustices faced by more than half of the world’s population. From femicide and early marriage to FGM and sexual violence and exclusion from peace talks, gender inequity discounts the contribution of women and girls to the overall value of humanity. Kofi Annan, the late UN Secretary-General, posited that the empowerment of women proves more effective than any other tool for development. Noeleen Heyzer concludes that although there are women’s issues and rights still to be raised and respected, including those outlined in the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, there are many that we must continue to protect. March is Women’s History Month and our contributors will write about issues that continue to impact the lives of women and girls around the world.
Ferguson Solidarity Washington Ethical Society. Source: Johnny Silvercloud, Creative Commons
On Thanksgiving evening, while many of us were still enjoying or recovering from a day of family and feasting, Emantic Bradford Senior – who is currently battling cancer – was waiting for his son EJ to come help him with his chemo medicine. “He was my best friend,” Senior says, “and my nurse. He treated me like I was his kid.” As EJ got ready to leave his father’s house that night, Senior, as he always did, asked his son if he needed any money. EJ was on his way to join eager Black Friday shoppers at the Galleria in Hoover. Late that night, Senior’s stepson woke him up. “You talked to EJ?” he asked. “Not since he left the house,” Senior responded, rousing himself. He showed Senior his phone, opened to a video posted on Facebook depicting a chaotic scene at the Galleria, shoppers running and screaming in panic. At this point, the Hoover Police Department had released a statement that there had been an altercation at the shopping mall around 10:00 PM and that police had shot and killed the instigator as he fled the scene. We’re “very, very proud” of the response of our officers, the statement said, for “engaging the subject and taking out the threat.” It was 12:30 AM. Emantic Bradford Junior – EJ – had been dead for two and a half hours at this point, but this would not be confirmed to the family until the next morning. Seeing the social media reports, Senior immediately called the Hoover PD to ask if the police had killed his son. “We’ll call you back in 10 minutes,” they told him. Ten minutes went by, no phone call. Senior called back. Again, “Someone will have to call you back.” This went on for a while until Senior finally demanded to know if that was his son – lying lifeless and uncovered on the cold, white floor – in the photos on Facebook. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give you any information at this time. You’ll have to call the county.” In frustration and terror, Senior calls the county police – he is put on hold, transferred, put on hold again, until finally a man gets on the line and confirms that yes, EJ is dead. Several hours go by, and the Hoover PD releases another statement: we got the wrong guy.
EJ had been shot and killed by a police officer who wrongfully assumed that he was the person instigating violence at the mall that night. In the precious hours between the police department applauding the officer’s “heroic” actions for stopping a violent crime and admitting that EJ “very likely wasn’t the shooter,” EJ’s image was misconstrued and misrepresented in the news and on social media – at first, to fit the profile of a killer, and later, as someone who made some bad choices that resulted in his untimely death. There was a desperation to prove that this situation was different, that it was an isolated incident, and that it did not serve as an example of police brutality against people of color. A narrative about EJ’s life and the circumstances of his death was planted, one that justified the officer’s actions and placed the blame on EJ himself. And this is where we end up:
EJ had a gun.
Right…and Trayvon Martin was wearing a hoodie. Eric Garner was hustling cigarettes. How could we know that Tamir Rice was holding a plastic toy and not a real gun? And maybe the most egregious justification of all: Michael Brown “looked like a demon.” There is always some way to extract the wrongful killing of a black man by police officers from the systemic problem of police brutality. There is always something we can point to and say well, this had nothing to do with skin color and everything to do with…fill-in-the-blank.
But let’s be clear: EJ wasn’t shot because he was carrying a gun (which he was licensed to own and trained to use). EJ was not perceived as a “good guy with a gun.” EJ didn’t brandish a weapon in the sense of acting threateningly with it. He didn’t have to – he was the weapon. And the words of Claudia Rankine ring in our ears:
“Because white men can’t
Police their imagination
Black men are dying”
The unnamed officer didn’t regard EJ as a person in that moment but as a black man with a gun, which in his imagination and under Alabama law, justified three shots to the back, ending EJ’s life. But we can’t help but wonder – to appropriate Matthew McConaughey’s powerful line in A Time to Kill – what would have happened if EJ were white. Even mass shooters – who are nearly always white – are often apprehended by police officers without being harmed. When they do die, it’s usually because they take their own lives. For example, after he opened fire on unsuspecting worshipers at the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, police chased Dylan Roof through two states before they caught him and took him to Burger King to get something to eat. Travis Reinking had a history of mental illness, had threatened violence multiple times, his many firearms had been confiscated – and then returned – before he walked into a Waffle House and shot four people. “He just didn’t seem like a violent person,” one coworker said of Reinking, joining with others who insisted that he was “intelligent and polite.” Reinking fled the scene, and officers chased him into the woods before he was apprehended unharmed. At a movie theater in Aurora, police mistook James Eagen Holmes for a fellow officer because of “the tactical clothing he was wearing.” In other words, he looked like them. But one look at EJ Bradford, and that was it. A black man holding a gun, standing near the victim…bang, bang, bang.
I imagine that police officer didn’t walk into that shopping mall that night intending to kill a black man. The nature of the situation forced him to make a snap judgement, and according to the official report, it took about three seconds to assess the situation, identify EJ as the target, and take him out. And it wasn’t until his family started demanding answers that they even questioned whether or not they had gotten the right guy. Ultimately, it was concluded that the officer “reasonably exercised his official powers, duties, or functions” when he fired those shots. And in a legal sense, it’s hard to argue with that. But we need some context here – there is a larger problem that must be addressed.
The lives of black people in the United States have been and continue to be conditioned and defined by violence – structural, institutionalized, everyday violence and brutal retaliation by the state and other groups against their demands to be seen and heard and regarded as human. Black bodies are weaponized in the popular imagination, associated with crime and danger, and the full participation of black people in society is subjugated by a collective consciousness that centralizes whiteness and systematically excludes people of color. The truth is that compared to white people, people of color are disproportionately killed by police officers in the United States. This is not because all white police officers are explicitly racist but because of where we hold space for black bodies in our broader cultural ethos. What gives police brutality its life force is the same thing that makes it harder for black people to buy houses, get into college and acquire health insurance. This refined yet insidious form of racism resides deep in our collective consciousness, and it engenders the unspoken but deeply felt sentiment that non-whites are threatening and dangerous, that we need the state to protect us from them.
And where does this come from? When slavery ended, the South (and eventually the rest of the country) adopted slightly more palatable systems of subjugation and discrimination against the newly freed citizenship. The preservation of the white male patriarchy depended on one thing – fear. As long as white people continued to be terrified of black people, white supremacy reigned unimpeded. Over time, laws ensuring civil rights and protections for people of color were slowly updated and selectively enforced. To be sure, these were victories. Progress, however, is not a zero-sum game. As overt ideals and expressions of racism were put asunder on paper, they didn’t go away. Instead, they burrowed down deep inside of our subconscious. On the surface, we developed new ways of explaining the unequal distribution of resources and power and opportunity without ever outwardly implicating skin pigmentation. We relegated black people to conditions of poverty, denied all but a few access to the middle class, and then blamed those left behind for bringing about their own woes. We associated violence in black communities not with poverty and lack of access but with blackness itself. We moved black bodies from the plantation to the prison system, once again denying them their freedom, but this time blaming them for it. Not all of them, of course, but enough to sustain the image and the fear.
Shop owners at the Galleria will tell you that there is a “black” side and a “white” side of the mall. Where do you think the police presence was concentrated that night? When it comes to spaces occupied by black bodies, the police force tends to emphasize the “force” over the policing. And yet…“You just don’t bring guns into a crowded mall,” the Hoover mayor admonished in his statement about the wrongful killing. How ironic. Okay, Mr. Mayor, tell that to the NRA. Better yet, if that’s such an obvious unspoken rule, try to make it a law in Alabama and see how far you get. At the very least, say what you mean: if you’re black, don’t carry a gun into a shopping mall. Because for people of color, certain constitutional rights must be qualified.
This is refined racism: when white people hear of the wrongful killing of a black man by police officers, we latch on to some element of the story that distracts us from the color of the victim’s skin and emphasizes some other factor that explains the officers’ actions. Rather than trying to understand what it means to be a black person in this country, to confront our own implicit biases and to acknowledge our complicity in upholding a racist social order, we look for something, anything, to assure ourselves that this was an isolated and unavoidable incident (at least on the part of the officer). In doing so, we sustain the devaluation of black bodies and black minds and justify the power of the state to marginalize people of color, to treat them as an inconvenience and to perceive them as a threat that needs to be neutralized by whatever means necessary. In situations like this, that is where our minds naturally go. We make our excuses, we qualify our apologies, we blame the victim. The story gets whitewashed. And just like that, Trayvon’s death, Philando Castille’s death, EJ’s death are their own faults.
So how do we change this reality? It is going to take more than providing courses to police officers on racial sensitivity and limiting the use of force. If we truly want to live in a world where the state treats people of all skin tones equally, white people must police their imaginations. We must actively work to decentralize whiteness, aggressively refute the narrative that people of color pose a threat to our society, and unequivocally demand that they be protected rather than forcibly policed. The political justice system won’t change until our collective consciousness changes, until we break ourselves of false equivalencies and false associations around blackness, until we recognize what the enduring legacy of slavery and centuries of subjugation and oppression have done to individuals and families and communities, until we give the black man a chance to be the good guy. We are all stakeholders in this process; if we’re going to move forward as a society, we have to do it together.
The Galleria reopened at six o’clock the next morning, as scheduled, because consumer capitalism can’t be bothered by the death of a black man. The Christmas shopping season went ahead full stride, while Emantic Bradford Senior was left to mourn the death of his son, to contend with his disease alone, to wallow in the pain of never again getting to hear his son call him ‘daddy.’ After two months of investigation, the Attorney General of Alabama ruled that the nameless officer who shot and killed EJ was “justified” in doing so. Under Alabama law, no crime was committed. But EJ’s mama, April Pipkins, leaves us with an important question: “If this happened to your child, would you still call it justice?”
This book review was originally published in the Vulcan Historical Review, Fall 2018.
Andrea J. Ritchie is a lawyer and activist. She writes Invisible No More “as an act of love, of mourning, of honoring, of commemoration, of liberation, as a contribution to our shared struggles, wrestling with the meanings of Blackness, privilege, solidarity, and co-struggling; of ‘survivor’ and ‘ally’” (5) for and from the community of which she is a member (11). The goal of Invisible No More is to establish recognition of the police brutality against women of color (us). She accomplishes this in several ways throughout this book. First, this book brings personal stories to the center and into focus by identifying the differences and commonalities among women of color. Second, it explores the various forms of police violence, as well as how race, gender, sexual orientation and ability to influence the action/expression of police violence. Third, it identifies patterns and paradigms within the controlling narratives which are rooted in colonialism, slavery, and structural violence. Lastly, it invites a discourse on aspects of the mass incarceration system previously invisible, including profiling and police brutality against women of color.
The book’s layout consists of eight chapters (2-9) that highlight various areas and interactions of police with women of color. Each chapter concludes with a resistance subsection wherein details of individual and collective resistance to the policing of gender takes a variety of forms at the local and national level (139). Ritchie bookends chapters 2-9 with chapter one, “Enduring Legacies” and chapter ten, “Resistance.” Within the pages, Ritchie questions the societal demand upon police for prevention of and response to violence while also challenging their contribution to the violence. Additionally, she ponders, “what would it mean to build structures and strategies beyond police that will produce genuine safety for women of color, especially in hostile terrain.” (18) She suggests that placing Black women and women of color at the center of the conversation shifts demands, analysis, and approaches (17).
Chapter 1 outlines the historical record of violence against women of color, inclusive of Indigenous women, by highlighting a portion of the controlling narratives. Colonization brought about the desecration and extermination of Indigenous identity and humanity. Sexual violence was a primary weapon. Ritchie introduces the concept of “the myth of absence” as a collective reductionist method. Employing the myth of absence allows for the normalization of invisibility under the guise of colonial establishment. This myth applies to both land and sea.
Masters of the enslaved utilized motherhood as an instrument of punishment under the oppressiveness of slavery. There was no shadow of law, so Black women became property, and with this new “label” came the disassociation their gendered status. This disassociation with womanhood dislodged the perception of femininity as well. “This system of constructed categorizations of Black women’s behavior and possibilities for existence persist to this present day… such narratives [mammy, Jezebel, subservience, tolerant, pain intolerant] inform police perceptions of what conduct is appropriate and permissible toward Black women.” (35)
The government positions immigrant women as a “control apparatus… for the regulation of sexual norms, identities and behaviors.” (37) This control functions as both a mode of discipline and a measurement of their suitability to contribute to the overall national identity (38). Stereotyped and prejudged, immigrants and queer/trans women extend beyond the normalized border standard of hetero, cis, white, etc. In other words, non-white women—whether with attitude, dress, and sexuality, size and skin tone—represent a deviation from the norm. To correct the “deviation,” a pattern of law enforcement arises to “structure and reinforce…perceptions” (41).
Chapters 2-9 describes the patterns of law enforcement applied to women of color. A summarization to the roots of the enforcement patterns comes from Arizona State University professor, Ersula Ore: “This entire thing has been about your lack of respect for me.” (58) The chapters expose how police, with impunity, make gender (for cis and/or queer/trans women) a sociopolitical site (139) of human rights abuses and violations as they view the bodies of girls and women of color as threats in public and private spaces (145). The gendered degradation and disposability of Black women (51-2) and the deep devaluation of motherhood and life for women of color (170) are merely two identifiable threads in the fabric of sexual violence within the police system (105).
Chapters 3 and 4 confirm that police brutality against women of color, includes minors and persons with disabilities. There is no escape from the profane overreaction of those “who make the rules up as they go along and often enforce them in deeply racialized ways” (75). In chapter 3, Ritchie builds upon the works of Monique W. Morris and bell hooks. They agree that schools—sites for the profound regulation and punishment of Black femininity– institute zero-tolerance policies and exact an “oppositional gaze” applicable disproportionally to girls of color, who are disrupting the peace or engaging in disorderly conduct by “having the audacity to demand to be treated with dignity” (73-8). Morris introduces age compression as a weapon in the arsenal that schools and law enforcement use against girls of color. Age compression is the inability to see children of color as children, because of this, they are handled and treated like adults of color (78). In chapter 4, with each incident involving police and women with a disability or mental health disorder, the women are either injured or killed. Thus, in both instances, the failure to respond appropriately due to the misapplication of stereotypes escalates but does not resolve situations.
Chapter 10 provides an extended culmination of the resistance subsections introduced in chapters 2-9. This chapter seeks to outline critical ways community activists and organizers, alongside survivors and the families of the victims, are turning violations into victories by piercing the bubble of silence. Ritchie repeats the underlying question of “what would freedom from fear look like for girls and women of color” while reminding the reader of the need to continually speak truth to power. Resistance, like violence, exists within the sociopolitical site of the body (139). Resistance draws those subjected to the margins by anti-police violence and feminist movements, back in and towards the center with the understanding that police are necessary for social order (205-7). However, the perpetuation of violence and the invisibility of that occurs during and after, can no longer remain in the shadows (206). Resistance reinstitutes the tradition of truth-telling through the reclaiming of bodies and humanity.
Two key strengths of this book are the inclusion of Ritchie’s personal experience and investment, and her purposeful build upon the works of Angela Y. Davis, Danielle McGuire, Beth Richie, Monique Morris, bell hooks, etc. By incorporating the works of other female activists/scholars who posit and bring a different angle to this issue, this book makes a significant contribution to recovering the missing female narrative within the mass incarceration canon and the US gender relations discourse. This is a huge plus for this book as “women of color” includes every non-white category and encompasses the fluidity of the gender/sexuality spectrum. Ritchie does not shy away from her critique of the embedded racial and gender bias within the American social system. Her frankness adds a crucial element to discussions on interracial relations and intra-racial relations.
Invisible No More: Police Violence Against Black Women and Women of Color is an off the beaten path collection of domestic violence and terror stories against humans being of color. It is difficult to read which, frankly, deserves a trigger warning. By reading this book, one begins to understand both the complexity and the root of Kaepernick’s protest, the demands of justice for women like Sandra Bland, Chikesia Clemons, and Deborah Danner, and the mindfulness of young girls like Naomi Wadler. It is a stark reminder that there is a notably, significant difference in the treatment of whites and non-whites by law enforcement, and if you are not outraged, you are not paying attention.
February is Black History Month. For the next few posts, I will review books by Black women who provide insight into the Black experience.
Source: Ajanet Rountree
Zora Neale Hurston (ZNH) was a cultural anthropologist. With her very being, Hurston occupied a space of protest of the normative within the field of anthropology as she traversed through society and academia as a Black woman from the South. The intersectionality of her life may remain lost on some; however, it is essential to understanding her as an ethnographer, folklorist, and local colorist. She studied under Franz Boas alongside Ruth Benedict and Margaret Mead, but there is often an exclusion of her work. When listing the cohort of the generations of anthropologists or ethnographers, ZNH is often not among those listed, as the categories for her work are The Harlem Renaissance, folklore, or African American literature. To Boas, ZNH was an anthropologist who, through the application of anthropological methods and techniques, gave insight into Black life in a way no White person could do. In this way, she achieves “racial vindication” and qualitative results through the application of anthropological methods like observation and participation, unstructured interviews, and ethnographic data collection.
Barracoonis the oral history of Cudjo Lewis—or Oluale Kossola–the only living African “cargo” of the slave ship, Clotilda. Kossola was not born into enslavement. He was sold and captured from Dahomey (presently Benin) and brought to Mobile Bay in Alabama. His testimony offers a completely new perspective and firsthand account of colonization. Hurston first reveals insight into her reflexive research on Kossola’s life and story in her autobiography, Dust Tracks on a Road. “One thing impressed me strongly…The white people had held my people in slavery here in America. But the inescapable fact that stuck in my craw, was: my people had sold me and the white people bought me. That did away with the folklore I had been brought up on. It was a sobering thought” (164-8). Employing her trademark of writing phonetically, ZNH allows Kossola to tell his story in his language and style, rarely interrupting his stream of consciousness. This methodology would later become known as emic ethnography. Spending three months in one-on-one interviews solely with Kossola, a Yoruba by birth and a resident of Affriky town, she learns about his life in Africa, his survival of the Middle Passage and enslavement, and his life as a ‘free’ man.
Oluale Kossola was a man to many, but to others, he was an exploit of their contrabanded flesh: “’the black ivory,’ ‘the coin of Africa,’ had no market value.” He and the other enslaved were “Africa’s ambassadors to the New World,” sold as “brisk trade” by the King of Dahomey (5-9). Although she refers to him by his American name, Cudjo, throughout the book, ZNH makes a point to state that upon her initial reunification with him, “I hailed him by his African name as I walked up to the steps of his porch.” As his eyes filled with joyful tears, he exclaimed,
“Oh Lor’, I know it you call my name. Nobody don’t callee me my name from cross de water but you. You always callee me Kossula, jus’ lak I in de Affica soil” (17).
By the time ZNH sits down with Cudjo, he is the only one left and finds himself surprised and moved that someone would want to learn about his life. Hurston writes that she told him that she wanted to know all about him, to which he responded:
“Thankee Jesus! Somebody come ast about Cudjo! I want tellee somebody who I is, so maybe dey go in the Afficky soil some day and callee my name and somebody dere say, ‘Yeah, I know Kossula.’ I want you everywhere you go to tell everybody whut Cudjo say, and how come I in Americky soil since de 1859 and never see my people no mo’. I can’t talkee plain, you unnerstand me, but I calls it word by word for you so it won’t be too crooked for you. My name, is not Cudjo Lewis. It Kossula. When I gittee in Americky soil, Mr. Jim Meaher he try callee my name, but it too long, you unnerstand me, so I say, ‘Well, I yo’ property?’ He say, ‘Yeah.’ Den I say, ‘You callee me Cudjo. Dat do.’ But in Affricky soil my mama she name me Kossula” (19-20).
barracoon. Source: Creative Commons
Kossola’s narrative differs from the account of Olaudah Equiano and the former slave narratives of Frederick Douglass, Harriet Jacobs, and Booker T. Washington. Additionally, it is unlike the ethnographic work of Eatonville, Florida as written about in Mules and Menand her most famous novel, Their Eyes Were Watching God. Scholars Natalie S. Robertson and Sylviane A. Diouf provide extensive supportive evidence about the 1927-28 anthropological research of ZNH, the Clotilda and the establishment of Africa town in Alabama in their respective books, The Slave Ship Clotilda and the Making of AfricaTown, USA and Dreams of Africa in Alabama. Although both books preceded Barracoon’s 2018 publication, they build upon the foundation laid and the way paved for by ZNH, even mentioning current residents of Africatown who met her during the visit. Robertson accurately identifies Kossula as a griot or native African storyteller, trusted to keep and share the stories of tribes over generations. There is “genius that is contained in oral tradition as chroniclers of phenomena and as vehicles for education in Africa…without dependency on written records. Because Cudjo hailed from West Africans who are masters of the spoken word, it was not difficult for him, even as a nonagenarian, to recall the circumstances that led to his capture and forced migration to Alabama” (9). As Diouf points out, slave and former slave narratives reveal what life was like during and after enslavement but the narrative of Clotilda survivors like Kossola “represents a unique group of people who grew up free, spent the majority of their years in bondage during the Civil War, and soon became free again.” Their perspectives also reveal the parts of African culture that adapted, sustained them and continued to unify them (4).
In her signature way, ZNH accomplishes several things with this book. First, she continually restores the humanity that enslavement and separation from Africa stripped away. With the one action of calling him by his African name, she imparted both his personal and cultural identity. By transcribing his narrative in his dialect, she maintains his character and dignity. Second, she allows Kossula to tell his story. Oral history and narrations are cultural and personal heritage. Kossula was the last survivor of the Clotilda; therefore, if ZNH had not traveled to Africatown when she did, this one-of-a-kind perspective might not have been told. Third, she does not gloss over or shy away from the brutality of colonization and the dehumanization that comes with the financial trading of human beings and comes to identify with him. As echoed in Dust Tracks, “Truth is a letter from courage” (31). Regardless of her role as an anthropologist and observer, she finds herself drawn in and experiencing his pain, tragedy, and joy. It is for these reasons that Boas concluded that the work of ZNH contributed to the “knowledge of the true inner life of the Negro” because she was not only a student of history but could “enter into the homely life of the southern Negro as one of them and was fully accepted” (xiii-xiv).
Hurston could have selected any group of people to study, anywhere in the U.S. or world, yet, she chose to return home and study the people she knew and the town she loved. In doing this, ZNH gave value and voice to the “inferior”—people who shared the same skin color and occupied the same category of within the social construction. She reflexively offers a distinct perspective on Blackness because she was Black and studied Black people to know herself more and to debunk the myths and stereotypes about who Black people were, how they arrived here, how they live and continue to live.
Approximately one in five adults in the United States has some type of disability. There are numerous types of disabilities that impact people’s daily lives through sight, movement, learning, or communication, although there are many others. Furthermore, even if two people have the same disability that doesn’t mean they are impacted the same way. Thus, individuals who have a disability do not consist of one general population, but instead a diverse population with various needs. Now the focus is more on how the word disability refers to the three components mentioned in the next paragraph and how there are numerous factors that go into having a disability.
The World Health Organization created the International Classification of Functioning, Disability, and Health (ICF). The ICF introduces the word disability into three main categories that are impairment, activity limitation, and participation restrictions. The term disability and impairment do not mean the same thing. Before the 1970s, the common view was that a disability is measured by whether or not an individual has an impairment or a health condition. In the 1970s there was the disability rights movement, which geared people away from this medical view. However, many people still focus on the more traditional, medical model of disability.
Disability Rights. Flickr: Féin, Creative Commons.
The Stigma
While there are medical advances over the years in regards to individuals with disabilities, there is a stigma surrounding people with disabilities. They tend to be seen as individuals incapable of making decisions or helpless. There are implicit or even unconscious biases against individuals who have a disability. Furthermore, there are several articles on how the medical community treats those with disabilities as having less value than non-disabled people. The medical interpretation of a disability is viewed as a pathological disorder and so this perspective focuses on how one can treat or cure it, rather than a social problem. In contrast to the medical model, there is the social model of disability, which focuses on how disability is formed from a social situation or construct, rather than a person’s characteristics. This viewpoint focuses on dividing impairment from disability, rather than recognizing that one is a component of the other.
Another barrier is that people with disabilities tend to lack health insurance or adequate coverage for healthcare. The National Council on Disability conducted research and found that few health care training programs address disability issues in their curriculum and most federally funded health disparities research do not look at people with a disability as a disparity population. Furthermore, while Medicaid and Medicare cover some people with disabilities, these programs do not cover those who have private insurance. Private group plan insurances are usually given through employers; however, not all employers offer health insurance and not all people who have disabilities are working. Those who have private group plans through their employer are required to cover basic care for the average working population. Medical equipment such as wheelchairs, ventilators, and crutches are limited in terms of annual payments.
The three key elements of health care insurance are availability, affordability, and coverage for critical benefits. Important benefits can include long-term care, mental health, and medications. There have been national surveys that found people with disabilities have a hard time figuring out the insurance system, visiting specialists, and obtaining medical equipment that is durable. Additionally, numerous essential health care services can be out of their budget, meaning that they go without certain things because they simply cannot afford it.
Accessibility can be broken down into many different components. The two main sections to focus on are communication and physical access.
Physical barriers are objects that are either natural or manmade that hinder or block mobility or access. These barriers can include inadequate transportation, accessibility to the facility and offices, and lack of accessible exams. Something as simple as getting a mammogram exam can provide numerous difficulties because the mammogram machine cannot adjust for height or health professionals are not adequately trained for lifting assistance. Thus, some health professionals conduct exams while patients are in their wheelchairs, which can yield inaccurate results. Other physical barriers include parking at the medical facility, entering the building, and the bathroom facilities, making it more difficult for someone with a disability to receive proper care.
Proper communication and education are required to make a change. Individuals with disabilities should feel they can discuss their challenges without fearing discrimination, while, those in the healthcare field should appropriately discuss, support, and address the challenges people with disabilities face. Research shows there is a lack of awareness and inadequate instruction among health care providers. For example in Connecticut, “91% of primary care physicians said they had no training in intellectual and developmental disabilities.” Without proper training, people tend to make assumptions about people with disabilities and often times they are incorrect. Some stereotypes include thinking that those with developmental disabilities cannot feel pain so they do not need anesthesia, people who are deaf have problems with their cognitive functioning because they are not fluent in standard English, or women who have disabilities do not need reproductive care because they are assumed to be sexually inactive. Making assumptions is not only harmful to the health of the patient but also it undermines who they are as a person. This can lead to damaging the patient-provider trust and provoke people with disabilities to not even bother to seek care. Ultimately, having access to appropriate health care can prevent new health conditions and could possibly stop current health conditions to worsen. In order to be effective and efficient, health care must be inclusive and accessible.
Keep up with the latest announcements related to the upcoming Symposium on Disability Rights by following the IHR on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
Laws and policies not only reflect policy-makers’ knowledge about cultural norms but laws and policies also actively shape our cultural norms as well (Benabou & Tirole, 2011). Inclusive laws and policies may negate the reinforcement of discrimination of marginalized groups by changing attitudes towards said groups over time. This is especially true of the disability community. Prior to the enactment of inclusive policies, persons with disabilities could be legally and explicitly discriminated against in the fields of education, medicine, and employment. Persons with disabilities still face discrimination, but the following laws make strides toward shaping the United States into a more inclusive for persons with disabilities, and these laws have played a key role in shaping cultural norms regarding these issues.
The Rehabilitation Act was the first piece of civil rights legislation to explicitly identify the rights of persons with disabilities and outlaws the discrimination on the basis of disability in Federally-funded programs. This includes barring programs conducted by Federal agencies, programs receiving Federal financial assistance, and Federal employment from discriminating against persons with disabilities.
The Rehabilitation Act also:
Defines persons with disabilities as those who have a physical or mental impairment that limits a major life activity, such as walking, seeing, hearing, speaking, learning, or working.
‘appropriate education’ is defined in this context as education that meets the unique educational needs of a student.
Requires parents must be notified if their children are tested for learning difficulties, are identified as having a disability, or placed into special education programs. Parents are also given the option to object to their child’s evaluation results through a formal, impartial hearing.
Mandates students with disabilities should be educated with their non-disabled peers when appropriate.
The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA)
The IDEA requires children with disabilities receive a free and appropriate education in the least restrictive environment appropriate to their individual needs and provides financial incentives for public education institutions complying with federal disability laws. IDEA also requires the implementation of Individualized Education Programs (IEP’s) for each child. These programs are developed by a team of individuals knowledgeable about the child’s situation (typically the child’s teacher, the parents, the child, and oftentimes an agency representative who is qualified to provide special education) and are required to be reviewed annually.
The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act also:
Protects children (up to age 21) deemed eligible for special education services.
Allocates funds assisting states and other education agencies to meet special education requirements.
Requires children in special education programs have a written IEP.
Scales of Justice, Creative Commons
The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA)
The ADA prohibits discrimination on the basis of disability in employment, state and local government, public accommodations, commercial facilities, transportation, and telecommunications and also applies to the United States Congress.
The Americans with Disabilities Act also:
Prohibits explicit discrimination in recruitment, hiring, promotions, training, pay, social activities, and other privileges of employment and restricts questions that can be asked about an applicant’s disability before a job offer is made for employers who possess more than 15 employees.
Requires employers “make reasonable accommodations to the known physical or mental limitations of otherwise qualified individuals with disabilities, unless it results in undue hardship”(29 CFR Parts 1630, 1602 (Title I, EEOC)).
Requires state and local governments follow specific architectural guidelines in the new construction and alteration of their buildings.
Provides a telephone hotline if disability-related complaints need to be filed. These complaints are filed with the Department of Justice, who may provide mediation programs if necessary.
Requires all public transportation services (such as city buses and public rail transit) are fully accessible.
Requires common carriers establish interstate and intrastate telecommunication relay services 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
Requires closed captioning of federally-funded public service announcements.
The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD)
The CRPD and its Optional Protocol were adopted by the United Nations in 2006. With 82 signatories to the Convention, 44 signatories to the Optional Protocol, and 1 ratification to the Convention, the CRPD has the highest number of signatories in history to a United Nations Convention. It is also the first legally binding, international treaty protecting the rights of persons with disabilities. The CRPD is the first human rights treaty of the 21st century and is the first to allow both regional economic integration organizations and civil society are parties to negotiations of a Convention. The UN defines the CRPD as “a human rights instrument with an explicit, social development“. This document reaffirms persons with disabilities (not restricted to physical and/or visible disabilities) must enjoy all fundamental freedoms and human rights.
The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities also:
Is the fastest growing treaty in the history of the UN.
Embraces a human rights-based approach (HRBA) of disability. HRBA shifted the approach to disability from “objects” of charity, social protection, and medical treatment towards a doctrine of human rights, envisioning persons with disabilities should make their own decisions about life, the future, and claim rights on their own behalf.
Defines disability as an evolving and open concept.
Encourages the participation of civil society, particularly persons with disabilities and their related organizations. This follows the Convention’s slogan, “Nothing about us without us.”
Protects persons with disabilities from direct and indirect discrimination and provides reporting mechanisms if a person’s rights are violated within the context of the CRPD.
There are more than 1 billion people in the world are currently living with a disability; about 59.7 million of them live within the United States. Batavia (2001) asserts civil rights legislation, such as those aforementioned, open doors for persons with disabilities that were otherwise sealed shut while also normalizing persons with disabilities in the workplace and beyond. It is apparent that such legislation has moved the United States and the world toward a more inclusive and accessible world, but there is still work to be done. Batavia (2001) points out less than 20% of complaints filed under the ADA end up ruling in favor of the defendant. This is the typical average for complaints filed under anti-discrimination laws in the United States; however, Batavia also argues the percentage for the ADA specifically should be much higher due to the uniqueness of each individual disability and necessary accommodations for them. Society oftentimes reinforces views of persons with disabilities as a ‘burden’ or ‘incapable’; one way to break these negative stigmatizations is via policy and respecting those policies as citizens.
If laws are changed, then public opinion toward a particular subject may change along with it. However, this change takes time; when sodomy was decriminalized in the United States in the 1950s, public opinion on same-sex and other queer couples began to shift. The shift over time pressured the Supreme Court to rule in favor of Queer Rights when same-sex couples gained the right to marry in 2015. The LGBTQ+ community still faces many obstacles today, but they are substantially less than those faced before favorable legislation was passed. Without a tireless effort, laws such as the ADA or the CRPD may have taken a much longer time to manifest. These efforts must continue in order to eradicate the stigma surrounding persons with disabilities.
References:
Batavia, Andrew I., and Kay Schriner. “The Americans with Disabilities Act as Engine of Social
Change: Models of Disability and the Potential of a Civil Rights Approach.” Policy
Studies Journal 29.4 (2001): 690-702.
Benabou, Roland, and Jean Tirole. Laws and Norms. No. w17579. National Bureau of
Economic Research, 2011.
Keep up with the latest announcements related to the upcoming Symposium on Disability Rights by following the IHR on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
UAB is an Equal Employment/Equal Educational Opportunity Institution dedicated to providing equal opportunities and equal access to all individuals regardless of race, color, religion, ethnic or national origin, sex (including pregnancy), genetic information, age, disability, religion, sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression, and veteran’s status. As required by Title IX, UAB prohibits sex discrimination in any education program or activity that it operates. Individuals may report concerns or questions to UAB’s Assistant Vice President and Senior Title IX Coordinator. The Title IX notice of nondiscrimination is located at uab.edu/titleix.
