I was in third grade when I realized how difficult the world would likely be for my brother. The school near to us wasn't ready for a handicap student, and in the words of school board members: "Do you think he really needs to go?" There were no ramps, and the idea of access into that small Arkansas school was a joke. Our family relocated to Southeast Kansas in hopes of finding a community that would give us a shot at education and opportunity, as well as a job my father would have for around 25 years of his adult life.
Still, despite all of this in 1983, ramps and access were non-existent. It is hard for people to remember the days before the Americans with Disabilities Act passed, in 1990. For people with disabilities, and family members who are disabled, we cannot forget.
Simple tasks for disabled children were extremely difficult. Rather than wheelchair ramps, many would "team lift" a wheelchair, with a disabled person in it, over stairs, and over barriers, in order to get them into public buildings like schools, libraries, and court houses. Fear and anxiety went along with it, for a 12 year old. Along with my father, we would lift a smaller wheelchair over the curbs and stairs, to give my brother access.
It was nerve wracking, terrifying at times, and it was a sign that he wasn't really welcome in those buildings. In the mid-1980s, numerous activists from around the country met, shared phone calls and letters - there was no internet - but little pamphlets would arrive in the mail: how can we do better for our loved ones?
School was still not an option. With access to a paraprofessional educator--a new option then, and something Kansas was proud to say they were working with - my brother learned at home, sending in schoolwork to a building that wasn't accessible and was difficult for him to attend.
Our elementary school was not air-conditioned, something that would be required for him to be in the classroom. An air conditioner followed him from 2nd grade to 7th grade until changes were made to the whole building. Schools felt OK to tell others, “Well, we are doing it, just for this troublemaker.”
That was us, the troublemakers. As we met others with disabilities, my families and others became more committed to the fight for access. Wheelchair ramps: hope, purpose--a chance for persons with disabilities to be factor in the world.
One of the moments I remember with Senator Bob Dole was on a trip to DC, my brother had won the state geography bee, despite two broken legs and access that pinned him to the floor, resulting in a hemorrhage in his ear, that required a blanket to be physically cut away from his body.
We met with the senator and some of the first words were: We must fight for better access.
It would be a couple of years later when the ADA would pass, and for my brother the world opened up. Wheelchair ramps: access, and a high school that had a small, but functional elevator.
This progress does not mean that there was not opposition. The leader of our local Right-to-Life organization stopped by our home on a Sunday night to lecture my mother - a hardened conservative - about how terrible it was for the school to build an elevator "just for one kid," and if that is what we wanted, "I don't see why the community should pay for it, maybe YOU should pay for it, if that is what it takes to handle your kid, it seems like it is your problem."
For the first few years of ADA, that stigma stuck to many with disabilities. My brother, despite the highest GPA in his graduating class and the highest scores and placement, was denied valedictorian because a last minute "change in the rules" required participation in a sport or athletic activity to receive the honor.
It didn't matter. Watching his electric wheelchair glide across the stage for a Diploma, on-route to his college degree was the victory. The ADA had opened doors not just to access, but opportunity.
Today, individuals with disability have opportunities that didn't exist before; but the Americans with Disabilities Act and access are under fire in ways we didn't imagine 25 years ago.
http://www.accessiblesociety.org/...
What if you wanted to vote but the polling place was locked? For many of the 33.7 million Americans with disabilities of voting age, this situation is all too real. Not because polling officials are deliberately blocking disabled people from entering, but because so many polling places are inaccessible. In fact, the Federal Election Commission reports that, in violation of state and federal laws, more than 20,000 polling places across the nation are inaccessible, depriving people with disabilities of their fundamental right to vote.
Persons with disabilities face new battles. Voting stations that are not prepared to handle individuals in a wheelchair. They cannot "lower" the terminal for those who do not stand, or they provide few terminals at a lower height meaning the wait is significant enough to act as a deterrent.
Facilities that are not prepared to address issues for those who are blind and hearing impaired. And in a growing concern, polling places that cannot respond to the rising incidents of autism, where crowded areas and loud noise act as a "stay away" preventing millions from even attempting to cast their legal vote.
While 25 years seems like Settled Law, Republicans like Rand Paul have spoken out for limiting the ADA.
And despite the issues of crowded polls that are not prepared for the disabled, with long waits that disproportionately punish those with disabilities, no one has proposed measures to fix more than 20,000 polling places in the US to allow the disabled to participate in our democracy.
We've made a lot of great progress. We have a long way to go. I walk by wheelchair ramps and think: I remember when grown men were picked up out of their wheelchairs so that someone else could 'move' a wheelchair over a curb and put them back, a complete loss of autonomy. I'm grateful for how far we've come thanks to ADA.
That doesn't mean I won't continue to be active in remembering we have a long way to go.
July 26th is the official 25th Anniversary of the Americans With Disabilities Act. Let us never go back.