It's
all too familiar. It's 5 on a Tuesday afternoon. A room full of fidgety fourth
graders. A teacher going around the room, student by student, asking each one
to practice reading Hebrew. And to make it harder, there is one student in
perpetual motion who disrupts everything, by climbing out of his chair and
crawling under the desks.
A
documentary called "Miss You Can Do It" is set to air on HBO on Monday, June 24. The premise of the program is to follow girls
with intellectual and physical disabilities as they have the opportunity to
participate in a pageant. At first glance, those involved with disability
advocacy might be pleased to know that such an opportunity exists.
After
all, experiences like pageants have long been exclusive of individuals with
disabilities.Heck, they have been
exclusive of anyone who doesn't fit a preconceived notion of
"beauty"...but I'll hold my ranting for now.
Despite
this obvious attempt to open a previously closed door to girls with
disabilities, I have two major issues with the premise of this contest.
First,
as an advocate for inclusion, I feel that creating a separate and different
opportunity for girls with disabilities perpetuates the notion that the girls
are not worthy of participation in a traditional pageant. Interestingly, this
pageant was started in 2004 by Abbey
Curran, who represented Iowa in the 2008 Miss USA pageant, and who herself
has cerebral palsy. Curran, who was able to participate in
traditional pageants herself, should be working toward greater inclusive
opportunities, not creating segregated ones.
Yet it is the goal of this pageant that causes me even greater concern. Press
for the documentary (about the pageant) cites:“The unique event brings together girls with mental and physical disabilities
from across the country who are judged on “what is in their heart and not by how
their outfits look.”” Ok, this is good, right? Yes and no.
I
honestly find it staggering that anyone could publish this statement and not
immediately recognize how this highlights inherent flaws in the traditional
pageant system. I am less concerned here
with the way in which girls with disabilities will be treated and/or
"judged" but rather, that the standard to which we hold all
our young women, disabled or not, isn’t "what is in their heart instead of how their outfits look". What a sad statement on society when it
must be overtly pointed out that this pageant will seek to discover the content
of the contestants' character.
It seems so ridiculously simple to me: Why
haven't we created a pageant in which all contestants are "judged" on
the quality of their character, not their appearance? How about one where we
encourage all contestants to speak(or type, or draw...) intelligently on a
topic about which they are knowledgeable and passionate as they present
themselves with poise, regardless of the "dress" they wear. Better
yet, how about we don’t judge anyone at all?
I have a daughter. She doesn’t have
disabilities. It's likely obvious by now that I hold no real regard for
traditional pageants, but I would love for her to be a part of an experience
called "Miss You Can Do It" where she is encouraged to demonstrate
"what is in her heart", without being judged.
If we aren't going to do away with pageants
all together, then we owe it to our girls to create a "Miss You Can Do
It" for all of them; a truly inclusive pageant without concern for
abilities or appearance.
Be sure you never miss a post from Removing the Stumbling Block:
Many
children with disabilities crave the consistency provided by set patterns of
routine. And while some may not acquire the language to fully express this
desire, these structures enable them to function. So while many of us look
forward to weekends and vacations, times when our everyday, even mundane,
routines are interrupted for an opportunity to relax; families with children
who have disabilities often find these times more stressful and more
challenging.
This
chasm between families of children with disabilities and “everyone else” is
one that many of us unknowingly perpetuate. We make assumptions that all
families look forward to things like weekends and summer vacations. What
message do we send when we continue to wish people a great weekend or a
wonderful vacation, without knowing enough about their lives to know if these
are challenging or enjoyable times for them?
How many
other ways do we perpetuate social norms that expect conformity without even realizing
it?
·When you learn that a student is a high school senior, do
you automatically ask where they are going to college?
·Have you ever given a subtle look to someone using a handicapped
parking spot that doesn’t look “visibly” disabled?
·What about those reproachful glances we give to the
parent of a child having a meltdown, silently criticizing their parenting
without considering other reasonable reasons?
Attitudes
can be the greatest barrier to inclusive communities. Sometimes such attitudes are
malicious, but other times it’s innocent ignorance. Either way, we have to work
hard to ensure that our attitudes, our behavior, and even our everyday dialogue
are truly inclusive. But it’s worth it.
Be sure you never miss a post from Removing the Stumbling Block:
One recent Shabbat, on the anniversary of his bar mitzvah, a
young man with Autism chanted Torah at our erev Shabbat service. I've
been thinking about it since, and was genuinely moved by the whole experience.
I have known this nearly seventeen-year-old young man since
he was in Kindergarten, and I am proud to have had a significant role in his
Jewish education for so many years. And yet I find myself struggling to put what I
felt on this recent Shabbat into words.
It was wonderful that he walked to the bimah with
poise and pride, but I expected that.It
was impressive to hear him chant smoothly and clearly, but I expected
that.It was awesome that he allowed
himself to be hugged by everyone on the bimah when he finished, but I
have come to expect that, too.
So what made this so remarkable?
What made this Shabbat so remarkable was the very fact that it was just another Shabbat, with
another one of our teens chanting Torah on the anniversary of their b'nei
mitzvah. And no one said, "Wow, I can't believe he did that," or
"how wonderful" in that mildly patronizing tone. It was simply yasher koach (job well
done), the same thing we say to anyone who beautifully chants Torah.
And yet I will acknowledge that there was one moment in the evening
that was truly unique.After services
had ended, I wanted to share what a wonderful job he had done - but I couldn't get past the ridiculously long line of congregants all waiting to do the very same thing!
This is the beauty of inclusion.
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