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| July/August 2025 | BAEC Bulletin
BAEC Bulletin | July/August 2025 |
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A LETTER FROM A MEMBER DURING DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH: HOPE AND RAGE
My anger turns into rage because it is no longer mine. My anger is my own, but our rage belongs to our community. The rage that travels through time, connecting every disabled person from the 504 sit-ins to the Capital crawl, and everything in between. The rage of my people flows through me and reminds me of the injustices of the past and the failures of the present. But the past and present are not the only states to consider. The future matters too. A future that we can hope brings a more accessible world. A hope for a future in which we do not become normal, but in which who we are is normalized. A beautiful dream made real providing liberty, justice, and inclusion for all. I strive to place myself at the intersection of hope and rage, as to remember why I am fighting and what I am hoping to create. I plant myself at that intersection to remind myself that I am part of a story, a long history of people just like me who fought for me to be here, just as I will fight for whomever may follow. It is amazing to think about all the people that fought for you to be where you are without even knowing you. Not only do I find peace where hope and rage intersect, but also an ease to isolation. I am not a single word on a page, but a chapter in a book filled with other stories like my own, so in a way I am never isolated or alone at my little intersection of hope and rage. For this disability pride month, please go beyond remembering us, and include us. Don’t just make space for us in your world, but step into ours. We make the world as it is, so let’s make it accessible.
BY RON W. LAPORT, ESQ. The last time I authored an article for the Disability Pride Edition, I joked that it took me 23 years to come out as disabled. Growing up, I wanted to be anything other than disabled. I wanted to play like other children and prove to the world that even though I am disabled, I can be just as good as anyone else. I would call it a condition, or a setback. I had such a negative view of disability because I blamed it for creating a divide between myself and my peers. They could walk down hallways while chatting with their friends; meanwhile, any time I tried, I would trip and fall. When I walk, I must think about every step I take, and I might just fall anyway. Having a disability can be terribly isolating. In school, while all my peers had gym class together, I would go to a separate room (ironically up a set of stairs) all by myself. I would do physical therapy at the top level of the gym, listening to all my peers having fun together. Or during crew (rowing) practice, when the rest of my team would go on a run, and my coach would send me to walk around a field all by myself. Lap after lap of a small park, waiting for everybody else to get back. I know this is all terribly personal, but personal stories are what can push us towards where we need to go. The moral is that accommodation that forces disability into the shadows or isolates us is not social justice, or even good. These accommodations do not teach non- disabled people how to interact with disabled people, nor does it teach disabled people how to interact with non-disabled people. Instead, it creates a burden on disabled people to constantly have to teach everyone they interact with how to respond to their needs. It is exhausting, and we only have so many spoons (referring to spoon theory) to begin with. It creates isolation and bitterness. Most of the bitterness manifests when people, often well-intentioned, ask me if I need any help. Most of those who know me know not to ask me that question. If I need help, I will ask for it. I understand that when people see a disabled person, they just want to help. I do understand the desire to help others,
especially those you have been trained to perceive as needing help, and that is not a bad thing to want to do. But please understand that when you ask me if I need help, there is a war going on in my head. Because I do not hear your question as you meant to ask it. I do not hear, “Do you need any help?” I hear, “Of course you need help.” I know most do not mean that, and it is mostly all in my head, but even if it is all in my head it still feels real and therefore just as powerful. Of course, it is difficult to explain this as I am lying on the ground in the usual state of shock after a fall. I want it to be very clear that I only ever speak for myself, and other people have different preferences, and that is okay. Sometimes those preferences are complicated, and that is okay too. It is okay to be complicated. My advice to you is that anytime you encounter someone with a cane that has fallen, check for immediate danger (like pulling someone out of the street or if they are not visibly moving), and then give them a minute before rushing in to politely tell them that if they need help you are willing to offer it. I know this new approach does not seem that different, but it truly is. The second approach adds a layer of autonomy. It lets disabled or non-disabled person take control over the situation and determine your role in their struggle. The right to bodily autonomy is everything to the disability community. Our bodies, our choice. However, not everyone respects that choice, or even gives one. I have been pulled up off the ground by strangers without asking my consent, and they have left bruises. Another time in Buffalo City Court, a lawyer I didn’t know tried to push me in my wheelchair without asking. I use these moments to fuel my anger at the system that thinks it can “help me” without asking. A system that teaches people to view me as someone who always just needs help. But as I grow more connected to my community of wonderfully disabled persons, the anger turns into something else. Rage.
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