 |
| Meghan Schrader |
Meghan is an instructor at E4 - University of Texas (Austin) and an EPC-USA board member.
Before I delve into the main part of this post, I want to refer readers to the Juneteenth blog post I wrote last year, which contains information about the history and further empowerment of BIPOC disabled persons, such as articles and tweets written by BIPOC persons with disabilities, discussion of admonishments that BIPOC disabled persons have given to white people in the disabled community, books and articles written by historians, etc. But on this Juneteenth I am going to tell a personal story; I hope it will inspire readers to listen to the experiences of BIPOC persons, especially those with disabilities, and integrate their concerns into our culture, while also inspiring readers of all races to reflect on the intersection of justice, love and forgiveness in this collaborative process.
My biological mother, Meg, had a very painful childhood. In addition to beating his children, her father was a leader in the Ku Klux Klan. So, until she was about seven, poor Meg learned that oppressing black African Americans was good, and that black people were evil.
On her first day of second grade, my biological mother walked into her classroom to find that the teacher was a large black woman. Given the racist lies her father had taught her, my biological mother panicked. “She’s gonna kill me!” Meg screamed before running out of the room.
The school called Meg’s mother, and she and some of the other staff got Meg to go back into the classroom. When Meg re-entered the classroom, the teacher gave her a big hug. “It’s going to be okay,” the teacher said gently.
This was one of the only hugs that my bio mother had ever had in her life, and the experience of being hugged was surprising for her. Meg told me that her fear went away because she felt cared for and safe, and the teacher continued to nurture her throughout the school year, acting as one of the best teachers Meg had ever had.
I do not know if the teacher knew that Meg ran out of the room because she was a black woman, but I assume she did, and I want to make sure I acknowledge that this interaction was horribly unfair to the teacher. BIPOC people with and without disabilities have spoken out about how exhausting and traumatic it is to try to instruct or interact with people who have prejudiced or uninformed beliefs, and how unjust it is that this process essentially involves giving expert advice for free.
But, I am so grateful to this teacher for having mercy on the seven-year-old child that Meg was, and giving Meg one of the first hugs she had ever experienced in her life. I can only hope that in my own work with other people who have developmental disabilities, I can emulate the compassion and generosity of that teacher; who lovingly mentored my abused bio-mother, a seven-year-old who had no way of understanding that racism was wrong. I think the intervention of that teacher is one of the reasons that Meg did not grow up to be a racist person.
Not all interactions related to redressing systemic racism and ableism are going to be touching like the one I just described. But I hope that the story, and the resources referenced in my previous Juneteenth post, can help inspire members of the anti assisted suicide movement to thoughtfully engage issues related to systemic oppression, and extend grace to one another as we work on what Stephen Mendelsohn’s faith called “tikkum olam,” or “repairing the world.”
My biological mother, Meg, had a very painful childhood. In addition to beating his children, her father was a leader in the Ku Klux Klan. So, until she was about seven, poor Meg learned that oppressing black African Americans was good, and that black people were evil.
On her first day of second grade, my biological mother walked into her classroom to find that the teacher was a large black woman. Given the racist lies her father had taught her, my biological mother panicked. “She’s gonna kill me!” Meg screamed before running out of the room.
The school called Meg’s mother, and she and some of the other staff got Meg to go back into the classroom. When Meg re-entered the classroom, the teacher gave her a big hug. “It’s going to be okay,” the teacher said gently.
This was one of the only hugs that my bio mother had ever had in her life, and the experience of being hugged was surprising for her. Meg told me that her fear went away because she felt cared for and safe, and the teacher continued to nurture her throughout the school year, acting as one of the best teachers Meg had ever had.
I do not know if the teacher knew that Meg ran out of the room because she was a black woman, but I assume she did, and I want to make sure I acknowledge that this interaction was horribly unfair to the teacher. BIPOC people with and without disabilities have spoken out about how exhausting and traumatic it is to try to instruct or interact with people who have prejudiced or uninformed beliefs, and how unjust it is that this process essentially involves giving expert advice for free.
But, I am so grateful to this teacher for having mercy on the seven-year-old child that Meg was, and giving Meg one of the first hugs she had ever experienced in her life. I can only hope that in my own work with other people who have developmental disabilities, I can emulate the compassion and generosity of that teacher; who lovingly mentored my abused bio-mother, a seven-year-old who had no way of understanding that racism was wrong. I think the intervention of that teacher is one of the reasons that Meg did not grow up to be a racist person.
Not all interactions related to redressing systemic racism and ableism are going to be touching like the one I just described. But I hope that the story, and the resources referenced in my previous Juneteenth post, can help inspire members of the anti assisted suicide movement to thoughtfully engage issues related to systemic oppression, and extend grace to one another as we work on what Stephen Mendelsohn’s faith called “tikkum olam,” or “repairing the world.”
No comments:
Post a Comment