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Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Justice and Equual Access by Carolyn Cartland, Vice President Equual Access


The theme for our January blog has been “Justice and Disability Rights.” As you may have read, we have several terrific contributions which reveal some of the ways we, people with disabilities, have not received justice and had our rights disrespected or withheld. When I first joined my congregation, I was denied equal access to the building because I could not open the front door independently. One extremely cold (ten degrees) January night I was stuck outside for what seemed like hours (it wasn’t, but boy was it cold!). Once I was in the building, amidst tears, rage, and chattering teeth, I communicated my needs to the women with whom I was attending a “Cakes for the Queen of Heaven” course. The next day, when I called the minister to discuss it with him, he had already heard from one of the class participants. Soon after, the Building and Grounds committee authorized funds for an automatic door opener. The rest, as the saying goes, is history. By advocating for physical access to the building, I was also advocating for the right of inclusion.

Equual Access was founded to promote the rights of Unitarian Universalists with disabilities, both within our congregations and within our larger community. Part of the strategy for having our rights recognized and acted upon is to tell our story, to communicate our issues and the discrimination which we face. This blog helps do that; so does talking and working within our congregations and the UUA. That’s what worked for me at my congregation.

To further our goal of increasing the inclusiveness of congregations and to add our voice to the larger social justice efforts undertaken by the UUA, the Board of EA will be working hard to expand our communications network. We will especially focus on communicating closely with the Multicultural Growth and Witness department; we will receive copies of their monthly reports so that we can learn what projects they are undertaking so that we can make sure our perspective is included. We will share our priorities and concerns with them as well. We will also be having periodic conversations with the head of the department, Taquiena Boston, and members of her staff so that we can increase each entity’s awareness of issues and concerns. Such specific and intentional conversations should aid in our joint efforts to respect the inherent worth and dignity of every individual, UU or not.

How Are Accessibility and Justice Connected?

Justice is an integral part of doing right. Of course, justice is more than defending others or setting things right. Justice includes the concept that things will be as fair as possible. One instruction on just behavior is as follows:

Learn to do right; seek justice.

Defend the oppressed.

Take up the cause of the fatherless;

plead the case of the widow.

It is important that as Unitarian Universalists, we examine the application of fair and justice practices to all levels and types of work that we do. An attentive examination of the treatment of disabled people, both in congregations and beyond, will show that there are many ways that people with disabilities can be oppressed, can need their cause to be taken up, or could benefit from having their case passionately pled.

Consider that in a traditional justice setting, on January 25, 2012, United Cerebral Palsy of Oregon and Southwest Washington filed a class action lawsuit against Governor Kitzhaber and top managers at the Department of Human Services. The lawsuit alleges that more than 2,300 Oregonians with mental or physical disabilities have been placed in sheltered employment situations in which they work for less than minimum wage and have almost no contact with non-disabled peers. A favorable outcome in this lawsuit could begin a revolution of fair wages and inclusive employment.

What does the pursuit of justice mean for congregational life? At least at my church, FirstUnitarian Church of Portland, we are fond of saying that the doctrine of the church is Love. I believe people expect that to be true. People assume that disabled congregants and visitors to the congregation will be treated fairly. It isn’t always apparent to the congregation when access is missing. But when one person comes to church, but they can’t hear the sermon well enough to understand it because there is no assistive listening equipment available, is that fair? When another comes to church but they do not feel welcome and valued because there are barriers to their entry or to their seating, is that fair? For most of these kinds of problems, individual attendees will not institute lawsuits meant to rectify problems and include the largest number of people possible.

The solution must lie with the church itself and with the congregation itself. The church must use the broadest means of inclusion possible, whether this means sign language interpretation or large print bulletins, or even remodeling to allow people with mobility issues access to all the parts of the building. There is one small congregation on the Oregon coast undertaking just such a project. In order for people using wheelchairs to gain access to the upper level of the church building, the church will need a lift. Even though the congregation is not a large one, they press on to finance the change by collecting cans and taking other steps toward the goal.

Accessibility matters because the central tenets of Unitarian Universalism include the ideas that divine Love is for everyone, and everyone is loved the way they are. This means now, not when it is convenient to include a door opener or when there is a surplus of money to install a needed chair lift. Right now, anyone may come. This means that for now, until the configuration of the building matches its purpose and possibility, we may have to be creative in broadcasting services to accessible parts of church campuses or resourceful in finding sign language interpreters for services or events. The alternative is offering God’s limitless love to those who have able or mostly able bodies; and that’s no alternative at all.

Theresa Soto is a member of First Unitarian Church of Portland, a member of EqUUal Access, a thinker, and a maker. On Twitter: @titasoto and blogs at http://inexplicablebeauty.tumblr.com/http://inexplicablebeauty.tumblr.com/

Monday, January 30, 2012

Disability Is by Kate Ryan

Disability is.

It just is.

It is neither a blessing nor a curse.

It is not fiction; it is not imaginary, it exists in ways we can see and we cannot see.

Disability is not a curse from God or punishment for your sins or your past life. You do not have a disability because you or some deity chose you to learn a lesson through it.

Disability is doing what you can, with what you have. It is accepting your limits and pushing your boundaries.

Disability is not a tragedy. It does not need prayers or candles or sorrowful glances.

Disability does not need pity. Disability needs action.

Disability is not because you did not work hard enough or try enough, or because you unconsciously sabotaged yourself from achieving your goal.

Disability is not because you did not try this or that treatment, cure, or ritual.

Disability is in spite of thousands of years of people trying to rid the world of it and of people with disabilities.

Disability is you, and it is not you. It is of you and about you. It is inherent within you and totally without you.

Disability is happiness and sorrow, and taking joy in things ordinary and extraordinary.

Disability is a warm, caring community with a slightly warped sense of humor.

Disability is finding bodily fluids to be very, very funny.

Disability is, and it isn’t, and nobody can define it but you.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Justice and Disability Rights by Alison Carville

My name is Alison Carville and I live with Spina Bifida. I have lost count of how many times I have been asked “What is that?” or even before what it is, “Why are you stuck in that chair?” When I was born, doctors that performed the Cesarean section to give me life were not sure how long I would live and if so, what “quality of life” I would have.

Twenty-one years after the Americans with Disabilities Act, my experience of living with a physical disability is still seen as “less than others” or “separate, but equal” in the world. I went through kindergarten-12th grade with the help of the IEP, or Individual Education Plan in efforts to give me a mainstream education. The school district always had an eye on me, just in case I could not fully understand the “normal” curriculum that every other student was learning.

I am now enrolled in college, and literally a few months away from graduating with my Associate’s in Arts degree from Edison State College in Florida. I have learned that as an adult, I have to learn how to deal with accessibility on my own. I have learned that by sticking up for myself, my physical disability is not a detriment, but an asset of my personhood that I would not change for the world. I believe that while I do these things on my own, and my college does have an Office for Students with Disabilities (or Office for Disabled Students, depending on who you ask), our society has much more to learn about inclusion and accessibility for people living with disabilities.

Our history of disability awareness begins with institutionalization of such individuals. Not only were individuals with psychiatric & psychological disabilities or illnesses “shut away” and institutionalized, but those with physical disabilities were not even given a chance. We were called crippled, broken, and worthless.

In 1817, the first school for individuals with hearing impairments in the western hemisphere was opened in Hartford Connecticut.

It wasn’t until Justin Dart, who lived with polio, wanted to attend the University of Houston for Education that people living with physical disabilities were seen on a larger scale of having legal rights and inclusion. In 1954, the educational institution refused to grant him a teaching certificate because of his disability. Today the college has the Justin Dart, Jr. Center for Students with Disabilities which is accessible to students of all abilities.

In 1991, President George H.W. Bush signed the Americans with Disabilities Act into law. This is the first piece of comprehensive & inclusive legislation in the 21st century focused on accessibility. Justin Dart, along with actor, director, and activist Clint Eastwood, founded Justice for All in efforts to defend against congressional attempts to restrict efforts of the ADA.

In the last several years, under the Obama Administration, there are more pieces of legislation to advance the rights of people living with disabilities. President Obama signed HR 146, the Christopher and Dana Reeve Paralysis Act which aims to develop better equipment and technologies so that individuals may live fully and independent from unnecessary boundaries and federal offices are required to include all statistics of their employees with disabilities. The Obama Administration is the first to have an Accessibility Committee in the Legislative Branch and also to have a United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, which is the first new human rights treaty of the 21st century.

We still have a long way to go in order to achieve full civil rights for all persons living with disabilities, however we are on the right path to a better and more inclusive future. 650 million individuals, or 10% of the population now lives with a disability, and the time is now to work for justice and respecting the inherent worth and dignity of every person however they walk, roll, or stride on the side of love in their lives.

Alison Carville is a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Fort Myers, Florida, a student, and Facebook host for EqUUal Access.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Justice for Amelia by Kate Ryan

When I found out that during the month of January, Equual Access would be focusing on justice, I thought that I didn’t have anything to say. I’m in the wonderful beginning part of an obsession where it feels like I’m diving into a massive pile of happiness to research and think about a certain topic, and justice is not really on my mind.

Then I woke up this morning and found this all over the blogosphere. I am sharing this story about a child named Amelia who was denied a kidney transplant because they doubted her “quality of life.” You see the little girl has mental retardation. That was the reason the doctor gave the child’s parents for deciding she was unworthy of a transplant. I encourage you to read the entire story and to share you reactions.

Click on Brick Walls to read it.

Seriously... it’s 2012. It’s the future that people wrote about in science fiction books. And yet we still have people who think that having a disability prevents someone from living a worthwhile life. We still have doctors who think this.

And I think of my favorite principle, ‘the inherent worth and dignity of every person’ and I wonder why all people cannot see the inherent worth and dignity that pulsates within each soul.

Last night I sat with one of my clients, a 12 year old with what some would call severe mental retardation. She was laughing and I started laughing, too, because the utter joy on her face told me that even if she didn’t understand much in the world, she understood this; that life is a good thing, and to keep on living is a good thing, too.

Now today I wonder: will there be justice for Amelia?

Will the doctors see the inherent worth and dignity in her?

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Segregated Schools by Linda Wright

When Simmons College in Boston asked for a detailed medical history to be submitted with my application to study for a masters degree in Library Science, I was suspicious. I had worked as a librarian for two years, and my letters of recommendation from my supervisor and the director of the library stated my work had been impeccable. I took the form to my hematologist.

“This is none of their business,” he said flatly and scribbled his signature under an illegible note at the bottom of the form.

My mistrust came from experience with every education application I had made from Kindergarten to college and now graduate school.

As a child, I was luckier than several of my friends. It was the mid-1950’s and there was no legal requirement to educate any child with a disability. Carol, who had cerebral palsy, was not allowed to go to public school. Neither was Barbara, who had been born with Down’s syndrome. Rose had to go to a special boarding school for children who were blind. I had been born with a bleeding disorder.

The Principal of the local elementary school did not want to enroll me, explaining to my mother that it was not a safe place for me. Anticipating this response, my mother presented a doctor’s letter certifying that, despite my bleeding disorder, there was no medical reason to exclude me.

The letter from my doctor did not reassure the Principal, and she admitted me on the condition that, during recess each day, I sit on the bench just outside her office door with the naughty children. It was unreasonable and unnecessary. My sentence on the bench lasted seven years. It was enforced when the other children went outside to play and even when they were indoors during recess.

I began filling out application forms to colleges in my junior year. Each rejection letter explained that their campus was not accessible. In the library I found a directory, which listed Boston University as having accessible classrooms and dormitory facilities. I applied and received a letter of acceptance in an envelope bulging with forms and instructions.

Enclosed in the envelope was a note asking me to schedule a meeting with the housing office. By then, I had been fitted with a leg brace. The metal supports squeaked against my leather shoes when I sat down in front of the placement officer.

The woman’s eyes did not meet mine. She stared at the orthopedic shoes I was wearing and the aluminum brace. Not long into our conversation, she released a heavy sigh and said, "Well, you can come to this school, but I doubt anyone will want to be your roommate."

My self-esteem was as bruised as my skin, but I was not broken. So I shrugged and thought to myself, “That’s your problem, isn’t it?”

Boston University had accepted me only because they did not know I had a disability.

Thanks to my doctors terse note on the medical form, I was also accepted to Simmons College. While I was a student, I volunteered to be the student representative on the team that reviewed the admissions policies. The College was preparing for re-accreditation by the American Library Association.

“Why are there no people of color enrolled in the School of Library Science?” I asked.

“We don’t discriminate, based on race,” she said, “It’s just that we don’t accept anyone who went to a state college, and well, you know, that rules out a lot of people. Besides, black people don’t want to be librarians, they are looking for better paying jobs.”

“There are several students from China in my classes, but no one from a Spanish speaking country,” I said.

“Well,” she responded, sounding as if her patience was strained, “Chinese people are more literate and their culture values education.”

I flinched and checked off the box on my survey form that said ‘yes’ beside the Admission Policy Discriminates on the basis of race.

“Why do you require a medical history form?”

The admissions officer glanced at me and responded, “Well, we don’t want people to associate librarians with cripples, do we?”

Friday, January 6, 2012

Coping with Crossflow in Congregational Politics by Roger Christan Schriner

A few months ago, I posted about using the analogy of traffic “crossflow,” to change our thinking about the process of gaining full inclusion in our congregations. In driving from point A to point B, we need to cope with crossflow -- traffic flowing from the opposite direction and from either side. If we acknowledge that we’ll need to deal with these impediments, we are less likely to become frustrated.

Encouraging a UU congregation to become more accessible is a journey from point A, the status quo, to point B, fully equal access. The question is not, “Will there be crossflow,” but “How shall I cope with inevitable glitches and obstacles? Here are some suggestions about dealing with institutional issues and power dynamics in promoting equal access:

1. Be realistic about how long it will take to get from A to B. Is this a congregation that usually moves quickly or slowly? Is leadership pro-active or passive? Clearly focused or distracted and confused? Is change typically welcomed or resisted?

2. Identify individual(s) or group(s) resisting your initiative. Is it possible that most people agree with you, but are passively acquiescing to the objections of a vocal minority? If so, how could you encourage those silent voices to speak up? Who could help you mobilize those who have been passive?

3. Are people in favor of your general idea but unclear about how to proceed? Give them two or three specific alternatives to consider.

Notice that I deliberately used the hated word, “politics” in titling this article. Politics has gotten a bad rap because our government has become so dysfunctional, but I still remember my political science teacher’s comment that “politics is the art of the possible.” It is the art of making decisions in groups, blending diverse interests and opinions to achieve common goals. In this sense, congregations are political organizations, and congregational leaders must be good politicians.

Although congregational decision-making can be a rather cumbersome process, I believe that our little corner of the universe tends to “bend toward justice.” But justice seldom materializes without effort. It takes time, energy, and creativity, coping with crossflow.