Over time, our society has made great strides when it comes to diversity and inclusion. There are now groups of marginalized and disadvantaged people who are much more visible, valued, and included in mainstream culture. There are laws in place to protect against many types of discrimination, harassment, and exclusion. There is a generation of children learning how not to bully others for their differences. All of this is wonderful and certainly something to celebrate. But it is my belief that in the last couple of years we have become hyper focused on certain groups of people, while leaving others out of the discussion almost entirely.
There are lots of ways to categorize and group human beings—according to race, religion, sexuality, gender, physical ability, economic background, marital status, parental status, nationality, body type, etc. However, when most Americans reference diversity, we are now most often referring to the groupings of race, gender, and sexuality. This focus has opened doors and raised awareness in some wonderful ways. For example, there are more and more characters on the LGBTQ+ spectrum and from a variety of ethnic and racial backgrounds in movies, television shows, and books. But too often, we stop there without bringing other marginalized groups into better view.
I don’t like to speak for groups to which I don’t belong and prefer to form arguments using my own personal experiences. So, for the purposes of this post, I’m going to stick to what I know: the writing community and the world of disabilities.
When it comes to writing, over the past few years, grants and literary awards for people of color and people on the LGBTQ+ spectrum have proliferated. There are now literary agents who exclusively represent LGBTQ+ clients or who are only open to query letters from people of color at certain times of the year. The new literary genre of LGBTQ+ appears on many agents’ websites and is often listed as a preferred genre. These are wonderful opportunities but can also be limiting for other groups. I write almost exclusively about issues related to disabilities and have yet to find any grants, awards, or agents who specialize in this area.
People with disabilities are also not highly visible in mainstream culture right now. For example, in all of the novels I have read, I have only come across two non-verbal protagonists. I know there must be more out there somewhere, but the point is that I’d have to search hard to find them. If I want my daughter to see someone like her—a person who is partially mobile, uses a speech device, and eats through a feeding tube—I have to create my own stories.
However, the issue of fictional representation is not the main focus of my concern. Instead, I am more worried about groups who don’t have the accommodations they need in real life.
There are many disabled children whose school districts cannot adequately accommodate their physical, emotional, or intellectual needs. There are also thousands of families who do not have the support or insurance they need in order to keep their disabled child healthy, well equipped, and medicated correctly.
In my state, the waitlist for disabled children to receive services is ten years long. However, most of the general public remains unaware of this. It’s just not an issue often raised by the media or that invokes any kind of large outcry. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean that people don’t care or that there aren’t advocacy groups working to change things. But articles and posts about the issue don’t garner many likes, comments, or shares on social media. Put quite simply, it’s not something that interests most people, despite the disability community’s efforts to raise awareness about it.
Like others, I have done my part. The letter I wrote to the editor of our city’s most popular newspaper on the topic was published in print and online. I have also messaged my state representatives and talked to politicians who have knocked on my door. But the result has always been the same—bland apologies coupled with no real action.
Another example of society’s current hyperfocus comes in the form of public restrooms. For several years now, people have argued back and forth about who should be permitted to use certain public bathrooms. Should you have to use the bathroom corresponding to the gender assigned to you at birth? Or should the choice be up to you? This is a topic that has provoked strong emotions and led to countless heated debates across the country. Legislation has been passed. Protests have been held. Outrage on both sides has been significant. In many places, gender-neutral bathrooms have been created as a result.
Meanwhile, in the world of disabilities, many of us quietly suffer our own bathroom woes. Most public restrooms include a stall to accommodate wheelchairs, but there are very few changing tables for anyone larger than an infant. I have taken my daughter to more therapy facilities and medical buildings than I could ever hope to remember, and still have only come across a couple of adult changing tables.
Unfortunately, this is a common occurrence. There are hundreds of message threads and online comment boards filled with complaints of the same nature. Many parents have to worry about accommodating a disabled member of their family whose physical weight is increasing but whose bathroom needs remain the same. Most caregivers end up faced with two terrible choices: either make their loved one wait until they arrive them home to get clean or lay them down on a dirty bathroom floor in order to complete the task. Neither choice is one any parent or caregiver wants to make. Not to mention the fact that changing someone on the floor of a public restroom is messy and unsanitary. Worse than the task itself, though, is the message this scenario sends to people with disabilities about their worth and value.
I hope by now it is clear that I don’t mean to disparage any particular group. I certainly don’t begrudge anyone their hard-won equality or visibility. I’m also a realist. It’s not reasonable or possible to accommodate everyone all of the time. I wouldn’t expect it to be feasible to modify every event or facility for my daughter’s significant physical needs. But it is imperative for a broader variety of groups to be elevated on the public’s radar. This would go a long way towards these groups receiving the accommodations and support they so desperately need.
There are many reasons to include and accommodate all groups of people. To stop harmful historical cycles of discrimination. To increase visibility and awareness. To raise compassionate children who treat others with care. All of these are extremely worthy goals, of course. But in my family, we highlight one reason in particular: to grant everyone the dignity and respect they deserve. This is why families like mine plan to continue our fight to create a better life for our children. Because even though our society has come quite far, we still have miles and miles left to go.
How do you define diversity? Where are the areas upon which we could improve? What are your personal experiences? Let me know in the comments below.
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