[Cross-posted from the San Francisco Chronicle]
By Jasmine E. Harris
Amanda Gorman had hardly uttered her final poetic note at Wednesday’s inauguration ceremony before people took to social media to celebrate the 22-year-old Harvard graduate’s strength, poise, and seemingly endless talent.
But then came the onset of “disability inspiration porn” — as many celebrated how the youngest inaugural poet “overcame” her speech disability, came out the other side, and now gets to bask in the sunlight of success.
Gorman, a Black woman raised by a single mother, became the Youth Poet Laureate of Los Angeles when she was only 16 years old, an honor rivaled only by her award of National Youth Poet Laureate just a few years later. She has openly discussed her speech disability, quick to frame it as a strength that has made her the performer she is and endeavors to be.
President Biden, during his campaign and throughout his political career, has openly discussed his speech disability, particularly its impact on his early years. The “exceptionality” narrative is so pervasive that many cannot even recognize it; it is the norm, and that is the problem.
The celebration of disability is certainly welcome, but not for the reasons proffered on Wednesday. Effusive praise for Gorman included her “learning to overcome her challenges” with her speech disability. Many sought to highlight her success as an example of how and why “having a disability or challenge never has to define you.” Yet disability is a sociopolitical identity that many openly and proudly claim.
All too often people with disabilities receive praise for engaging in everyday activities, such as traveling independently on public transportation, holding a full-time job, getting married and having children. It is no wonder that when disabled people achieve what nondisabled people do, or exceed the nondisabled norm, that they are seen as exceptional. Expectations are low and perceptions about the value of a disabled life misconceived. Legal scholars have described this as the “disability paradox,” that is, the difference in perceptions about the quality of disabled lives between those with and without disabilities.
However, in the wake of the 30th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, the way we frame disability, and our collective public understanding, remains problematic. It will continue to undermine broader antidiscrimination efforts — who gets access to employment, promotions, public services and programs, as well as how courts and juries determine legal rights.
Changing attitudes about disability is no small task, but it is possible. And, yes, public engagement and representation of different experiences with disability are central to this project. I have written extensively about the need to bridge antidiscrimination laws and public perceptions and the dangers of failing to attend to aesthetics and emotions associated with disability discrimination. In a forthcoming paper, for example, I argue that the historical association of disability with private, stigmatizing information perpetuates views that disability is embarrassing and more associated with medical data than sociopolitical identity. As a result, we only see disability as synonymous with more visible (and recognizable) markers such as the white cane or quintessential wheelchair.
The call is to “take disability public” and value publicity as a way to change these misperceptions by giving people a more realistic sense of the continuum of disability in society. Such disclosure is not without risk, with greater risks for people with intersectional identities (e.g., a disabled person of color).
Yet other social justice movements have successfully embraced publicity as a form of resistance and path to inclusion. The LGBTQ movement, #MeToo and Dreamers have all used public disclosure and publicity to add complexity and nuance to the one-dimensional popular conceptions of what it means to have one of these identities.
The degree of disability representation at Wednesday’s inauguration deserves praise, given the sheer number of people with disclosed disabilities. For instance, Jennifer Lopez identifies as a person with anxiety and has openly discussed her experiences in her book, “True Love.” Similarly, Lady Gaga publicly claims fibromyalgia, a chronic illness, as part of her lived experience.
President Biden, Gorman, Lady Gaga, Lopez, fire Capt. Andrea Hall and Justice Sonia Sotomayor are some of the people with disabilities trending. What is most notable about this group is not their collective success, but their decisions to publicly claim disability despite having less apparent ones that, in theory, can be concealed. The decision they faced, to disclose a less-visible disability, or pass as nondisabled, is one experienced by millions of people with disabilities each day. In fact, of the estimated 56 million people with disabilities in the United States, the majority have less-apparent disabilities, leaving them with the difficult decision of whether to disclose, when and to whom.
Should we celebrate the quality of disability representation on Wednesday? Yes. Should we celebrate President Biden, Gorman, Lady Gaga, Lopez, Hall and Justice Sotomayor for their tremendous success and service? Yes. But the true celebration has to be for visible representations of the strength and beauty of disability, its nuance and complexity. Disability should not be reduced to a weakness or a diagnosis. And, while the achievements of people with disabilities are celebration-worthy, they are not cause for celebration because of the identity of the achiever. Until society grapples with deeply rooted stereotypes about disability, we will continue to climb that steep hill, as Gorman so eloquently said during the inauguration.
President Biden will undoubtedly usher in a new era for civil rights enforcement in our country. However, without attention to pervasive misconceptions of disability, meaningful inclusion will remain out of reach.
