Let's stop talking about what Kanye did

...and talk more about WHY he did it.  

If you are angry because Kanye "picked on" a person with a disability or because he singled both of them out (there was also a lady with a prosthetic leg), you might be missing the bigger picture. 

We need to talk about the root of the problem. He stopped his concert for three minutes until the person was forced to "prove" that he was "disabled enough" to not obey the command. And while Kanye has been publicly chastised for it, that act of ableism seems okay to many, many people on a smaller scale in public settings every day. Disagree? Well, have you ever questioned (aloud or in your head) someone who "doesn't look disabled" in an accessible parking space? That's ableism. 

It's the self righteousness attitude of able-bodied people who think they're the "disability police." So many people with disabilities face never ending confrontations and challenges to their rights in their daily public lives: The person with fibromyalgia who gets hassled every time he legally parks in an accessible parking space; the person with the CP or Spina Bifida that can stand for very short periods of time out of their wheelchair who are challenged as "fakers" if they ever get out of that chair in public; the lady at Kanye's concert who had to detach her prosthetic leg and hold it in the air to prove she was allowed to sit down at a public event. 

Why does anyone feel they have the right to demand proof of disability from other people in public situations? AND what about the people at Kanye's concert who had invisible disabilities that might have stopped them from standing for long periods of times. Would they have been publicly shamed until they were forced to stand? 

This is an all too common public opinion that people with disabilities have an "onus of proof" on themselves in order to access the services or things that they need to function in the community. That attitude is more disabling than any disability. 

We as a society need to stop assuming that "everyone else can do everything that I can do" because we ALL have different abilities (disability or not) and not every disability is visible.

By Keith Hosey

Image used with permission. 

Do you have dreams? Pursue your dreams.

- By Keith Hosey -

I’d like to talk about so-called professionals, self-determination, the “Lizard Brain”, and how they matter to me and you. I recently read the book Linchpin by Seth Godin. It’s a great book – it will inspire you. Linchpin talks about the “Lizard Brain,” that voice inside all of us that tells us we’re not good enough... we won’t succeed. It likes comfort, safety and routine; it fears change and the chance of success. It fears these because it fears the unknown.

A very good friend of mine last year told his personal story to a group of high school students for Disability Mentoring Day. I have heard the story before; it’s great, it’s inspiring and I enjoyed him telling it with such passion to these students. You see, he had a brain aneurism in the womb that has caused some learning differences. He was told by his high school guidance counselor that college was a waste of time for him. He was better off just talking some job out of high school and settling for what he could find, according to the counselor. He was told “No”, “you can’t” and “you’ll never be good enough,” by a so-called professional who should inspire the students they work with, not discourage them.

There are so many wonderful individuals in the education industry (and I am lucky to know some) who are doing great, inspiring things for students and especially students with disabilities. I hate that people like this guidance counselor had to sully their profession. This really goes across the spectrum of those I like to call “so-called professionals” who are in a position to do so much to inspire people to achieve, but for whatever reason, they think everyone needs their prescribed “dose of reality”. This includes teachers, guidance counselors, coaches, mentors, case workers, therapists, etc.

What if that counselor had said, “Hey, I know you want to do this and I think you should try it. I’m going to be honest with you, it won’t be easy and there’s a chance you may fail, stumble, or give up. If this is what you want, then reach for it and I’m here to support you.” What a difference! Luckily, my friend is a stubborn and hard headed guy. “No you can’t” fueled him for the nineteen years it took to get his degree. He now has his bachelors and is in a Masters’ program to be a teacher in special education.

The Lizard Brain tells him to stop, to quit. It says “That counselor was right; he’s a ‘so-called professional’ after all.” Peter is the Lizard Brain’s worst enemy. Not only does he know how to silence the voice, he works hard to silence it in other people too. He failed Algebra six times in college and I’m sure there were times when he wanted to give up, but he has good friends and family who cheered him on. Now I know that he will pay it forward as a teacher, because I know that his passion is teaching and coaching individuals to success. He said it best at Disability Mentoring Day 2010, “You have dreams? Pursue your dreams. People tell me I can't because of my disability… I'm in the business of proving them wrong.”

The Secret Disability

- By Stephanie Hickey -

"I would never have known if you hadn't told me." People tell me this often. They're referring to my being disabled. I've previously mentioned that I am not visibly disabled. I, in essence, "pass" as--for desperate want of a better word-- "normal". And individuals make this remark in a flattering tone, when it's the least complimentary thing one can say.

I have no wheelchair or leg braces. I can walk heel-toe, heel-toe (as opposed to awkwardly stumbling on my toes) beautifully, but the little things get me. Muscle spasms go unnoticed under dinner tables, cramps fill my wrists, and after tiring, I can no longer walk my good walk. Strolling down the street, I fall suddenly--apparently for no reason. My ankles have tightened up and given out on me. I have constant back pain I hide well. It's challenging for me to use (control them with precision) a computer mouse or a manual can opener and I want a man who will cut my steak. It's not romantic, but all these tasks are thorny propositions for me. But none of these situations are really obstacles to my daily life. They are simply irritations, minor nuisances.

Most irritating are people's attitudes that I encounter--their frustrations because I do find some tasks challenging and they see no obvious reason why I should. I don’t look like I deal with constant back pain, which medication only eases and gives me the capability to do things. This attitude doesn't bother me because I know those feeling that dissatisfaction don’t know my history. They don’t know my first sixteen years of life were filled with leg braces, wheelchairs, surgeries, therapy, therapy and still more therapy.

I suppose the most upsetting thing about “passing” is the internal struggle with which I deal. I don’t always disclose my disability, for fear of being judged as fishing for sympathy. I feel like I'm hiding my disability as something of which I am ashamed when nothing is further from the truth. But what is most painful is the inner conflict I feel when I am around the “visibly disabled”. I do not feel sorry for them. I know they don’t want or need my sympathy. But I experience terrible guilt. Those first sixteen years were packed with so many difficulties, challenges and so much hard work that I'm incredibly proud of myself, knowing how far I've come--that I've improved enough to "pass". I also realize how blessed I am that my condition could improve to this point, but it stings when I see someone whose condition I know can only improve so far, or perhaps not at all. Why should I be so blessed? Why can I not trade some of my progress so that other disabled individuals' conditions can advance? These thoughts always haunt me when I am with the visibly disabled and it pains me that some may think I don't understand their struggles because I "pass".

My parents say I shouldn't feel any guilt; I should thank God for my blessing and leave it at that. But I can't. For every blessing I count, I also wish I could share my blessings, my advances for every disabled person I know. As much as the difficulty of cutting my own steak or controlling a computer mouse is with me, so is the ever-present twinge of guilt I have for "passing". And I have to deal with it like I do everything else: realize it's a challenge but understand it's not impossible and move on.

Is your disability hidden? How do you feel about having a visible/invisible disability?