20 Years! Two decades. 240 months. 7,300 days. It doesn’t matter how you add it up, slice or dice it: 20 years is a significant period of time.
In the 20 years since the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) became law, there have been many positive changes. Why is it then that, two decades after the passage of that landmark civil rights law, we are still struggling to get it recognized and implemented--and even enforced--by those who are important to making equal access a reality?
Like many of my peers, I am celebrating the 20th anniversary by gathering in Washington, DC to listen to illustrious speakers and dance the night away to raise funds for a newly formed Political Action Committee that will support disability-friendly candidates. My friends across the country may be attending different celebrations, but the cause is the same. We live at a time that has witnessed passage of the greatest disability civil rights legislation of all time, and some of us have been fortunate enough to play a part in getting it written, passed or implemented. Millions more have benefitted through the opening of employment opportunities, the elimination of architectural barriers, and a commitment to a world of communication that includes those who have the most difficulty communicating.
I was injured in 1988, pre-ADA, and immediately faced obstacles and challenges that I didn’t know existed prior to my injury. The ADA promised the end to those frustrations. My battles with the local transit agency over inaccessible service would soon be unecessary because of requirements for wheelchair lifts on all new buses. The need to roll down the streets because of impassable curbs and sidewalks would also come to an end. Communities were putting curb ramps in place for the enjoyment of not only people in wheelchairs, but mothers with strollers and teenagers on skateboards. There have been exceptions of course. Despite such clear-cut mandates, it has still been necessary for the Department of Justice (DOJ) to sue several state and local governments in order to get them to install those curb ramps and operate their transit systems in a manner that is required by the ADA.
As we reflect on the great accomplishments and positive changes that have occurred since July 26,1990, it is impossible to ignore the work that lies ahead. The Supreme Court upheld the purpose of the ADA in its Olmstead decision over a decade ago, yet states have failed to make life in the community their preferred option over institutionalization—even though there are proven cost savings by doing so. Money can’t follow the person when states facing ongoing financial crises want to cut off the funding altogether to balance their budgets. Thousands who rely on Medicaid-funded homecare are at risk of losing it altogether as long as it remains a state option. The Department of Homeland Security and DOJ have each emphasized the requirement for emergency preparedness planning and response to include people with disabilities, yet that input is lacking in many communities across the country.
In 2008, Congress reconfirmed the intent of the ADA by reminding America that the law covers even those of us who have less obvious disabilities. While many of us are hopeful that this will eventually result in greater numbers of employed Americans with disabilities, the nation’s unemployment rate remains at an all-time high and businesses struggle with the impact of an ongoing recession instead of seeking new employees. It is doubtful that people with disabilities, even the most highly qualified ones, will be given a place at the head of the line when the economy finally picks up and businesses start hiring again.
This anniversary is an important one, but most importantly we should be recommitting to the promise of the ADA by pushing for the components that will make our dreams of true independence a reality. Simple steps like passage of the Community Choice Act, stepped up enforcement on the part of DOJ when local governments fail to follow the law and cutting off federal funding for entities that fail to comply with the ADA could make that happen.
We need to support the new leadership at the federal Office of Personnel Management as they seek to finally make the federal government a model employer of people with disabilities after two decades of failing to make that happen. We also need to seek changes that will allow thousands of unemployed people with disabilities to reenter the labor pool and begin working without risk of losing critical health care coverage and similar benefits.
Remind yourselves, and everyone else, that we only seek equal access and opportunity—not “special treatment.” To settle for anything less is not what the “fathers” of the ADA intended.
©2010 Michael Collins
In some respects, I am a dinosaur. For months and years I have resisted persistent pressures to take up the cause of social media and join friends and family in a constant flow of messages or tweets about inconsequential activities of daily life that seem to occupy too much of our time. I really do not need to know what the head of a federal agency had for breakfast or what type of meetings they have been in during the morning hours. There is such a thing as information overload, or is it overkill?
The crushing blow arrived when my daughters advised that they would no longer be sending photos of grandsons to me directly. Like everyone else, I would be forced to join Facebook to view photo albums that were being updated frequently and would otherwise be unavailable to me. Reluctantly, I joined.
At first, my involvement was minimal. By posting an old photo (from the days when I had hair) for my profile and listing a few basic facts about myself it was possible to receive notifications when photo albums were being updated. It didn't stop there however.
Soon I was receiving Facebook e-mail messages that stated someone who I had known only peripherally in an earlier life had “friended” me and would I accept their invitation? I was completely unprepared for the constant barrage of friend requests. While I didn't remember them, since they were five years behind me in high school, I didn't want to offend anyone who might really be interested in getting reacquainted with me. After all, who knows what type of action might result from the crushing blow of being rejected for a friend request? Would my failure to remember them show a lack of social grace on my part? I could imagine these rejected friends telling their therapists about the damage I had done to their fragile egos, even though I didn't really know them.
Little did I know that every friend of my newfound friends would see that I became a friend with their friend and would jump on the bandwagon to request to become my friend. I now realize that I could have a serious impact on the quality of life of perhaps thousands of individuals who might someday wish to become my friend because a friend of their friend became my friend. Some of the friend requests are now coming from organizations with hundreds of members, and then I'm torn between saying no because I don't know most of their members or saying yes just to minimize the damage I could possibly do to so many fragile egos.
As a dinosaur, I never played Dungeons and Dragons, Super Mario or the more complicated games that occupy younger generations. We spent our scarce idle time with Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit and checkers. Now I am invited to create virtual farms, adopt endangered or zoo animals, play mythical characters in online games, become a fan of something I don't even understand or “poke” somebody back. Not only that, I am being given the responsibility of telling my newfound friends who they may want to invite to be their new friends or what type of profile picture they should paste on their homepage. That's a lot of responsibility for a dinosaur.
I now realize that social media is another name for a disease that has potential worldwide pandemic implications. My web browser is open to Facebook, and every time a friend of a friend posts something I get a reminder to check it out. No matter what I'm doing, I'm drawn to open the browser and take a quick look just in case it might actually be of interest or have some connection to my life. Some of my friends even bought Blackberries or other types of ‘smart phones’ so they could keep track of Facebook all day at work without violating company or agency policies against personal use of their work computers. I am still resisting that impulse.
It used to be common that I would send out periodic e-mail newsletters to family and close friends in order to keep them advised of my status or news of the day. I even maintained a list of those who actually mailed me Christmas cards so that I could mail them a Christmas card the following year. Sometimes I would even attach photos to my e-mail messages, or send out a joke or two. Those days may be gone forever.
I don't belong to You Tube, nor do I twitter or tweet or whatever it's called. I have watched videos sent to me by friends, or clicked on those links when they appeared on Facebook. While writing this, I have only checked Facebook three times and then only because e-mail messages urged me to do so. I learned that two friends of friends have become fans of things, and another friend commented on someone's photo that I didn't even see. A few months from now I'll let you know whether social media has actually enriched my life, or simply made it more complicated.
Now what's with those blogs?
Copyright 2010. Michael Collins
