When my daughter was born, she was flawless — ten tiny fingers, ten little toes; her features were delicately formed. To me, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. In that regard, I shared a common sentiment with many new parents. While I still believe she was the most perfect baby, I realize now that such feelings are universal among new mothers.
As she grew, it became clear that alongside her charm and sweetness, there were differences compared to other infants. She appeared to be a typical baby, exhibiting all the usual adorable traits: she smiled, laughed, kicked her legs, and even giggled at her father’s antics. However, as the months passed, I noticed she struggled to sit up unassisted. By eight months, she had no interest in solid foods, and while other babies were beginning to walk, she was still using army crawls, only transitioning to a hands-and-knees crawl after her first birthday. At that point, I reached out to early intervention services for an assessment, and she qualified for support due to a gross motor delay. Six months later, we received a preliminary diagnosis of cerebral palsy.
Throughout my life, I’ve valued kindness and respect towards all individuals. However, I must admit that I often felt uneasy around those with disabilities. I struggled with what to say and how to look at them. Should I acknowledge their disability or pretend it didn’t exist? Was it rude to ask questions or insensitive to ignore it? This uncertainty made me feel awkward.
About four years before my daughter’s birth, I accidentally landed a job in a vocational rehabilitation program, assisting adults with developmental disabilities. Had I not been in need of work at that time, I might have shied away from the role due to my discomfort. Yet, that experience turned out to be transformative, preparing me in many ways for motherhood to a child with a disability.
During my tenure, I gained insight into disability rights and the historical oppression faced by people with disabilities. I learned the importance of advocacy and formed deep connections with individuals who experienced significant disabilities. These relationships enriched my understanding and comfort, allowing me to communicate with people whose speech might not be immediately clear. I discovered that every individual, regardless of their cognitive or physical abilities, has something valuable to contribute. The most crucial lesson I absorbed was that every person deserves dignity — to be seen, heard, valued, and included in decisions that affect their lives.
Ableism encapsulates not only the discrimination faced by individuals with disabilities but also the societal structures designed predominantly for those who are typically abled. Despite nearly one in five Americans experiencing disabilities, ableism remains under-discussed. While terms like racism, sexism, and ageism have gained recognition, the discrimination against people with disabilities often flies under the radar.
One reason for this oversight is that society effectively renders individuals with disabilities invisible. For instance, consider the number of television shows featuring characters with disabilities. Can you name one whose storyline isn’t focused on their disability? Even more challenging, can you recall a character with a disability portrayed by an actor who also has a disability? If you find yourself only able to think of a few examples, it underscores a glaring lack of representation in media, which itself is a form of ableism.
Ableism manifests in various ways, from blatant mockery to the absence of accessible accommodations in public areas. Although laws like the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) are designed to protect individuals from discrimination, mere compliance does not equate to true inclusion. For instance, a restroom with one oversized stall doesn’t automatically create an inclusive environment for all abilities.
Our attitudes also reflect ableism. When we pity those with disabilities or presume they want to be “fixed,” we perpetuate ableist views. Asking what caused their disability, as if we are entitled to solve their medical mysteries, is another manifestation of ableism. Similarly, assuming that an individual with a disability has a lesser quality of life or is incapable of independence reinforces these harmful beliefs.
Language plays a significant role in perpetuating ableism. It’s surprising that in 2023, many still use the R-word as an insult, which is an ableist slur. Jokes about “the short bus” are not only unkind but deeply hurtful to children with disabilities. People raised in the ’90s often cling to terms like “lame” without recognizing their derogatory implications. Even casual references to a “crazy” situation can carry ableist connotations related to mental health.
I understand that being confronted with these issues can provoke defensiveness. You might think, “I’m not a bad person for saying ‘lame.’” You’re not. However, it is essential to challenge ourselves to view the world through a more equitable lens. Once you recognize the inequities faced by people with disabilities, you’ll start to see them everywhere, and your conscience will guide you to avoid contributing to these issues.
If you’re still with me, it’s crucial to address “person-first language.” This means recognizing that individuals with disabilities are people first and foremost. They are not defined by their disabilities; rather, having a disability is simply one aspect of their existence.
One significant aspect of able-bodied privilege is that many of us who are typically abled rarely think about disability, which often leads to silence when our children point out differences. Instead of shushing them, we should engage openly and honestly. If they notice someone with a prosthetic leg or ask about my daughter’s colorful walker, we should answer their questions directly. If you feel uncomfortable, your children will sense that and may internalize it. By modeling respect and normalizing differences, we can teach our children to empathize with everyone. This understanding contributes to a kinder, more equitable world.
Summary
Ableism is a pervasive issue that impacts millions, yet remains largely unaddressed. It encompasses not just discrimination against individuals with disabilities but also societal structures that prioritize the typically abled. By fostering open dialogue about disabilities and employing person-first language, we can challenge ableist attitudes and promote inclusivity. Engaging our children in conversations about differences will help nurture empathy and understanding, ultimately creating a more accepting society.