Being in Right Relationship: It’s all Monkey Business

At Emory University, researchers Sarah Brosnan and Frans de Waal conducted a fascinating experiment on the sense of fairness. They taught brown capuchin monkeys to swap tokens for food. Initially, the reward was a piece of cucumber, a food that capuchin monkeys were only too happy to work for. But when the researchers started rewarding some monkeys with grapes, a food that monkeys much prefer over cucumbers, and rewarding others with cucumbers, the latter group immediately took offense. In some cases, they refused to comply with the task. In other cases, they took the food but refused to eat it, and in some cases, they threw the food at the researcher. You can see a hilarious YouTube video

Scientists say that this research suggests that human’s sense of justice is inherited and is not a social construct. The experiment demonstrates our natural reaction to become angry or frustrated when we are treated differently from others or when we see others obtain or achieve things that we aspire to obtain or achieve as well.

Being in right relationship with people who have documented disabilities is more than etiquette. It is more than being polite. It requires that we treat others equally and fairly; that we work as hard as we can to ensure that everyone has the same opportunities, the same resources, and the same rewards. It stems from the basic belief that if I am eating grapes, all those around me should be eating grapes as well.

In our Unitarian Universalist congregations, this sense of justice and fairness is actualized through a proactive stance in making physical accommodations so that people with mobility issues can access our buildings, our classrooms, and our sanctuaries. It means acquiring or adapting equipment and other resources so that people can hear better, see better, and worship better. It means embracing the gifts and strengths that are inherent in everyone and looking beyond the images that cause us to stereotype and distance ourselves from others.

Victor Hugo wrote, “Being good is easy, what is difficult is being just.” As Unitarian Universalists, we must begin doing the difficult so that everyone in our faith has equal access. In other words, we need to stop monkeying around.

Mark Bernstein
CERG Growth Consultant and UUA Liaison to Equual Access

What's In a Word? by Carolyn Cartland, Vice President of Equual Access

Carolyn Cartland

When the Equual Access board chose the monthly theme for March a few months ago, we didn’t know how appropriate it would be. The March theme we selected, “What’s in a Word? Do the Words We Use Matter?”, is an apt description of the discussion now taking place on the “Standing on the Side of Love” blog. You may have seen it; if not, I recommend it. We are all invited to comment on whether the use of the word “standing” may be alienating to people with disabilities, how this issue may be impacting folks in our communities, and how ableism has affected our lives. I encourage everyone to make their opinions known below, on the Equual Access blog or on Access-l, the UU open forum for people who are interested in matters relating to accessibility. You are invited to join others who are committed to creating a faith community in which all people are truly welcomed into all aspects of congregational life. for UU. To view the sermon which initiated this conversation, go to the sermons web page for the Unitarian Society of Hartford, Connecticut and click on "2-12-12 Standing on the Side of Love - Rev. Katie Lee Crane."

At the Equual Access board meeting on March 7, we discussed this topic. We decided that words do matter to us, that words can change behavior and open minds, and that certain language presents opportunities to increase awareness of “the other” while other uses of language can limit understanding of others’ experiences. We understand that, initially, it may seem as though we are being “nit-picky”, “politically correct”, or “overly sensitive”. We are sympathetic to that perspective but weren’t those same comments made when women first objected to the sole use of the pronoun “he” in UU hymns, readings, and sermons? Weren’t similar comments made when the GBLTQ community objected to words that they deemed offensive? Who gets to decide if a word is offensive or not…the person offended or the person using the word? How do we show our belief in the “inherent worth and dignity of every person” if not by the language we use?

At our board meeting, we decided to pursue this conversation. We believe it is a valuable one for all of us, those with disabilities and those without, because at the very least it may open minds and hearts by providing a different perspective on the experiences of those whose lives are different from our own. Ableism, like sexism, heterosexism, racism, ageism, and all other forms of oppression, is alive and real in our culture; as in all forms of oppression, language is one of its most powerful tools. We encourage everyone to use this powerful tool in ways that are respectful, inclusive, and constructive. Whether SSL ultimately chooses to remove the word "standing" from the name of this social justice campaign or not, we believe this dialogue is necessary for the campaign to be inclusive and respectful of all people.

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/

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.

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?”