Showing posts with label paralympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paralympics. Show all posts

Friday, March 2, 2018

It's time for the Paralympics. Where's the buzz?

By Louise Kinross

This morning this story popped up in my Google alerts: Why do Americans ignore the Paralympics?

My first thought was 'What Paralympics?'

I was surprised to read that the Paralympics in South Korea begin March 9. I hadn't heard anything about it here in Toronto.

I messaged my husband, who is an editor at The Globe and Mail: "Did you know the Paralympics start next week in South Korea?"

"I did not know," was his reply.

I was totally caught up in the excitement of the PyeongChang Olympics, and was surprised I hadn't heard about the Paralympics. 

Boston Globe reporter David Scharfenberg, in the article above, describes the disinterest of Americans in the Paralympics this way: "More so than in Europe or Japan, the media landscape in the Unite States reflects an obsession with youth, sex, and money—or, rather, a certain brand of unblemished youth, a certain kind of stylized sex, and a certain type of unabashed capitalism. And the Paralympics just don't fit the formula. They cannot be easily turned into the sexy, profitable entertainment at the center of American life."

In contrast, Scharfenberg notes that hundreds of journalists from the United Kingdom, Germany and Japan flocked to the 2016 Paralympics in Rio de Janeiro, and the London games in 2012 were packed.

The full schedule of the PyeongChang Paralympics will be available here soon, the official website says. But the actual event starts a week today. Isn't that leaving it a little late?

Last week, The Toronto Star ran this piece about how Canada is sending 55 athletes next week, its largest contingent. CBC also has a story about it. But I don't see much, if any, coverage on individual athletes. Think about the stories we read about athletes leading up to the PyeongChang Olympics?

The 2018 Paralympics trailer, above on Youtube, has only 9,000 views. Yet Scharfenberg says that the games are the world's third-largest sporting event.

I couldn't find a Canadian video for this year's Paralympics. Please advise if there is one. I did find this U.S. one, with less than 400 views! 

Scharfenberg interviewed Rosemarie Garland-Thomsom, a professor of English and bioethics at Emory University who specializes in disability studies about the American disinterest in the Paralympics. I read her excellent book called Staring: How We Look. She points to the deep discomfort in American culture with the disabled body.

Canadians like to think their values are somewhat different from Americans. I'm not sure if they are in this respect.

Friday, August 26, 2016

Vogue's Paralympics ad fail

By Louise Kinross

Oh dear.

I saw a tweet yesterday about how Vogue Brazil had photoshopped an amputated arm and a prosthetic leg from two Brazilian Paralympians onto fashion models as part of an ad campaign to combat low ticket sales for the Paralympics in Rio.

This struck me as bizarre and offensive.

Can you imagine an ad for Olympic athletes that features fashion model stand-ins?

What, on earth, does being an elite athlete have to do with physical appearance? Or fashion? Nothing!

While I think the idea that any of us can have a disability is a positive one, and perhaps this was the intended effect, replacing the bodies of real athletes with models sends the wrong message.

Diversity is what makes the Paralympics stand out: we watch and celebrate elite athletes with different kinds of bodies and disabilities.  

The Paralympics is one of the few times we get to see people with disabilities in mainstream media.

What message does this ad send to the child who has an amputation? That their arm is more attractive or acceptable when photoshopped onto a different body?

Other countries have produced outstanding ads to promote their Paralympic teams. The reason they work is that they're real and give the athletes the visibility they deserve.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

'Without disability I don't know if I'd have discovered my sport'

By Louise Kinross

Erica Scarff, 20, is on her way to Rio next month to race a kayak in the paracanoe event as it makes its debut at the Paralympics. BLOOM talked with Erica about how she found her passion on the water after she had an amputation at age 12 to treat cancer.

BLOOM: What led up to your amputation?

Erica Scarff: I was running at gymnastics and my leg broke. I found out I had cancer and the only way to get rid of the tumour was to remove it. My whole thigh on my right leg was removed. Then my calf was attached backwards, so I had to train my brain to make my ankle function as a knee. At the time I was very involved in gymnastics. I was about to move to competing at the provincial level.

BLOOM: What was the hardest part of adapting to your new body?

Erica Scarff: For me, I was still really sick when I lost my leg so I didn’t have the energy or feel motivated to learn how to walk. Being really sick was the hardest part for me. I had the amputation in September and nine months later I finished chemo and it wasn’t until then I started to feel better. It took a long time for my scar to heal, which meant I couldn’t be fitted for a leg until about April. Also, before I even started walking, I had to train my brain to know my ankle as my knee. At first I couldn’t even move my ankle. My ankle is now functioning where my knee did.

BLOOM: What helped you keep going during this process?


Erica Scarff: I was always looking forward and thinking about what was next for me. I never really thought about the possibility of things going wrong. What helped me was I’m really into science. I wanted to be involved in understanding not just what they were doing, but why they were doing it. So I asked the doctors lots of questions and understood everything and that helped. Of course having my family around was important and my mom was always with me in the hospital.

BLOOM: What was it like when you returned to school with your prosthesis?

Erica Scarff: When I got back to school I noticed a lot of the kids were standoffish and a bit apprehensive. Maybe they just didn’t know what to say to me, so they didn’t say anything. But I still had my good friends. I knew this was something I had to do to save my life, so it didn’t bother me too much.

BLOOM: Is there anything you do that helps people feel more comfortable with your prosthesis?

Erica Scarff: I’m very open with it. If someone asks me a question I can explain it to them. That’s not necessarily something I have to address right away, or that I have to explain, unless someone asks me. I’m pretty comfortable with myself. If I make a joke about it, it helps people see ‘Oh, it’s not that big of a deal.’ Because I can feel comfortable with it, others can feel comfortable with it.

BLOOM: How hard was it to learn how to walk with your prosthesis? I’ve spoken to other people who found it incredibly difficult.

Erica Scarff: It was pretty hard. When I first started walking I couldn’t imagine every being able to walk without holding on to something. It was quite painful and I was still quite swollen from the surgery. Because walking is something that comes so naturally to most people, not having it come easily was hard. Not only was I working with a prosthetic and trying to control it as if it’s my own, but I was dealing with the fact that I’m using my own body in a way that it’s not made to be used – I was using my ankle as my knee. In my brain I had to adapt. Now I don’t even remember what it’s like to walk with two legs. For me, it’s normal.

BLOOM: How did you learn about kayaking?

Erica Scarff: I was at the prosthetics clinic at Bloorview and there was a coach there helping another patient design a leg for paddling. The other patient was a friend I knew from Bloorview. The coach asked me if I wanted to come out and try the sport. I’ve always been an athlete and I wanted to go back into sports after my leg amputation.

BLOOM: What do you love about kayaking?


Erica Scarff:
I love the outdoors, so it’s nice to enjoy the summer on the water. I really like training and the feeling of pushing your body and seeing your improvement. With paddling, it’s a very technical sport. You’re not only pushing yourself physically but it’s a mental thing too, to improve your technique. That technical side of it was really cool, because it was like gymnastics: it was about body awareness and knowing where your body is in space. So even though paddling is quite different for me, in some ways it was similar to gymnastics.


BLOOM: What was it like to become part of the Paralympian community?


Erica Scarff:
At my club there were other para athletes, but it was so cool in 2015 to go to the world championships and see these world-class para athletes and how hard they train. Some people don’t realize that we’re real athletes and really competitive. It’s real sport and a real competition. To see how seriously the other athletes took it – yet we’re still really friendly to each other – was really great.


BLOOM: Have your thoughts about disability changed as a result of having your amputation?

Erica Scarff: Having a disability, I can understand and relate to other people with disabilities more and, even though I would say my disability is considered less severe, I understand what it’s like to struggle with differences within your body.

BLOOM: What are your hopes for the future?


Erica Scarff: I’m in school studying kinesiology and I’d like to be a physiotherapist. Being in sports I have a good understanding of the body and how it moves. But also, being in the hospital and going through a lot of physio myself, it was something I watched. I thought their job looked fun, to be able to help people in that way, and something that I could be good at.

BLOOM: What advice would you give other kids with disabilities?

Erica Scarff: Sometimes I visit kids in the hospital who are going through the same thing I did. I tell them it’s going to be okay, even though when you’re going through it, in the moment, it feels really tough. 

I tell them it’s okay to have a hard time with it and struggle with it and to go through all of your emotions. In the end it’s something new: you’ll be living with your disability and it’s not the end of the world and you’ll adapt. There will be a lot of the same things in your life and then maybe you’ll find some new things. Maybe your disability could even bring you opportunities you wouldn’t have had otherwise. Without disability I don’t know if I'd have discovered my sport. So you don’t always have to look at it as a disadvantage.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

'Superhumans' ad takes the fragility out of disability


By Louise Kinross

My husband loved this 'We're The Superhumans' ad about the British Paralympics team as well as everyday folks with disability. It was produced by UK broadcaster Channel 4.

I wanted to like it, I really did. But while I got caught up in the Broadway style show and the catchy "Yes I can" cover, something about the "I can do anything" lyrics, when paired with elite athletes as well as regular folks with disabilities, who just happen to be independent, didn't sit right with me. 

Most of the adults and children in the ad have amputations and they've adapted by using a different limb or a prosthesis.

This is how a story in Advertising Age described it: "Paralympians make high jumps, score goals, lift barbells and shoot arrows while everyday folks pump gas, take notes, eat cereals, fly airplanes -- just as easily as their counterparts who happen to have arms and legs would." 

Is that statement true?

Is it "as easy" to do competitive sports and everyday activities with a disability as without one? Isn't that a ludicrous over-generalization? And just how are we defining "disability?"

One of the everyday Superhumans featured is Jessica Cox, the first armless pilot who flies with her feet on the controls (she's an American, by the way).  She's able to fly the plane with her feet because her physical disability is singular -- she was born without arms. What if she also had low or high muscle tone that limited use of her feet, or chronic pain, or an intellectual disability? Would flying be so "easy" then? 

What kind of expectations does this ad set for all people with disabilities, including those with multiple disabilities? The ad suggests that disabled people can do anything AND that they can do it on their own. All of the everyday Superhumans act independently. Most have amputations, and we see how they play a guitar, steer a car, drive a plane, care for a child and pump gas with their feet. 

What about people who have conditions that affect many parts of the body and their ability to function? What about people who require help with bathing, dressing, toileting, moving in their wheelchair or communicating? What about people who require round-the-clock care? How do they fit into this "I can do anything" realm? 

They don't. That's why they don't appear in the ad.

"Being a Superhuman is a state of mind," says the ad's creative director. "It's time to stop focusing on disability and focus on superability instead." 

What? Is a physical environment designed for bipeds and not wheelchairs or walkers a "state of mind" on the part of the disabled person? Are unconscious biases against disabled children detected during implicit association testing in adults a "state of mind" in the children? What about North American health protocols (I imagine they're the same in Europe) that bar children and adults with disabilities from admission to intensive care during a pandemic? 

Disabled people have historically been stereotyped as "less than" human. This ad, pairing some of Britain's finest athletes with everyday disabled folk who are independent, suggests they are Superhuman. 

Will people with disabilities ever be allowed to just be human, in its full spectrum, which includes different degrees of interdependence and dependence over a lifetime?

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

'I've always been able to push myself'

Ade Adepitan (right) is a British Paralympic basketball medal-winner, an actor and a filmmaker whose documentary Journey of My Lifetime took him back to his homeland of Nigeria to investigate why the country has yet to eradicate polio, which he contracted there as a toddler.

In an interview with The Guardian, Ade spoke about playing wheelchair basketball as a teen in London. “The disabled kids were just cooler, wilder, got up to crazy things,” he said. “We’d be out in the streets racing our chairs, playing basketball, travelling all over east London like a crew. It felt like I belonged.”
Ade’s older sister Omoyile has Down syndrome, so he has a unique perspective on physical and intellectual disability.
BLOOM: Your family moved from Nigeria to London when you were three for better prospects for you, but your family couldn't afford to bring your sister, Omoyile.
Ade Adepitan: They had to beg, borrow and steal everything they could just to get themselves over to the UK. At the time in the '70s if you didn’t have a British passport and you wanted residence you weren’t allowed to access the National Health System for two years.

So my parents had to pay for all of my health care for two years off their own back. And when you come from Nigeria, what people earn in the UK in a month they would hope to earn in a year. So my parents had to pay for braces, operations, sometimes going into hospital.
My dad and mom were qualified as teachers but because they were black, they couldn’t get professional jobs here when they came in the '70s. They had to work as cleaners and security guards, doing two to three jobs at a time while going to college in order to pay for me. My mother and father had to leave their whole family in Nigeria, and my older sister had to stay with my brother’s sister. She would have been four or five.

BLOOM: What was it like when Omoyile finally joined the family in London 10 years later?
Ade Adepitan: It was strange because I didn’t know she had Down syndrome. I left Nigeria when I was three and you don’t understand what Down syndrome is at that age. When she arrived I was a little bit confused. My parents were really happy but it was also quite difficult. I'd been the centre of attention because my younger brother and sister were still fairly little, and all of a sudden my sister comes from Nigeria and she was the centre of attention.

I was 13 and just starting to become a teenager and she was 14 or about to turn 15. It was like getting to know a stranger. Except because she had Down syndrome she had a mental age of about seven, so she was my older sister but she was actually younger than me. All of those things were complicated and difficult to understand.
BLOOM: How did your parents talk about disability?

Ade Adepitan: My parents were always of the philosophy that we should never really be talking about disability but talking about our ability. They weren't keen on me using a wheelchair and wanted me to walk all the time because they thought if I used the wheelchair it was like me giving up and taking a step backward. So in those terms it was quite difficult and you could maybe almost say my parents were a little backwards about disability.
But in the context of education my parents were very adamant that I go to a mainstream school and not a disability school and fought hard for me to go there. And even though my sister went to a special school, my dad fought hard for her to get a City & Guilds qualification in catering, which normally children with special needs don't get. My sister was one of the first kids in our area of the UK to get it, so my parents were very pushy in one respect.

BLOOM: Because of the stigma of intellectual disability was it challenging for you as a teenager to accept your sister?
Ade Adepitan: She was the first person with intellectual disability I'd ever met. You're a teenager and you go through that moody stage where it feels like the whole world is against you. Then this sister comes along and she needs a lot of attention. She was very skinny and there were worries about her health.

I was still going through ‘How do I get over the fact that I'm disabled and have a physical disability?’ and you want to fit in and you don't want to be different. I’d almost come to terms with that and I was thrown this curveball: now I’ve got a sister with an intellectual disability—that was like a double whammy for me.
BLOOM: In The Guardian you talked about how you learned how to walk with braces and how it was very important for your parents that you walked.

Ade Adepitan: For my parents who came from an African culture there was a lot of stigma associated with being in a wheelchair. Even in the UK in the 80s there was a lot of stigma. For my parents it was really important that I walked on callipers to my school which was a mile away.
It was a really hard walk and then my school was a massive school so getting to lessons was really difficult and there was no lift or ramp, so I had to climb the stairs, and I was carrying heavy books with me. By the end of a school day I was exhausted.

BLOOM: You've said that once you learned how to use your wheelchair it was freeing.
Ade Adepitan: When I finally started to use a wheelchair I was really embarrassed for my able-bodied friends to see me in it. But once I got over that it was a godsend and it changed my life. What the wheelchair gave me was independence.

A lot of people ask me why I got into sport, and the most important reason was that I knew if I was fit and strong, I wouldn't have to rely on anyone. When you’re disabled that’s one of the most important things: you have to be fit and strong because you’re not as physically able as other people, so you have to compensate for it with things like fitness.
I found once I was in a wheelchair I could travel long distances. Walking a mile would take the best part of half an hour, but I could push it in my wheelchair in five or six minutes. You can imagine the kind of independence that gives you. Suddenly I could travel anywhere.

BLOOM: Yet when I was in London recently I was struck by how inaccessible the tube and train system is.
Ade Adepitan: When you live in London and you have a disability you have to be almost like Indiana Jones. Every journey is like an adventure and you might as well be crossing through valleys and swimming rivers and stuff. Most of London’s transport system was built during the Second World War or just before and it's inaccessible and that in itself makes things very difficult. It could hold you back if you had a disability and you had to have a very strong mind set and be stubborn.

BLOOM: What was it like in other ways growing up with a physical disability?
Ade Adepitan: In the '80s when you were in a wheelchair or had any sort of disability people assumed you weren't as intelligent as other people and they overlooked you, they didn't really talk to you. Some people called you names like cripple.

For me I had the added thing of being one of the few black people in the UK. I was black and disabled and I felt like I was being hit on all sides. There were some days I felt like I didn’t want to go out of my house I was so pissed off at the way people acted around me. Just the fact of people staring some days made me feel really uncomfortable and I'd think why do I have to put up with this? It took a long time for me to embrace my disability. There was quite a period where I was ashamed.
BLOOM: You've spoken about how you joined a local basketball team that gave you a lot of confidence.

Ade Adepitan: This basketball team was set up by some physiotherapists and their philosophy was about independence. They wanted to make the young disabled individual as independent as possible as quickly as possible because they knew that in later life to be able to go out and have the confidence to travel around London and be yourself in front of people, and not be ashamed of it, you had to be built up and prepared.
When I joined this team I met a load of people my age or a little older and they were extremely confident. They were way more confident than my able-bodied friends, more adventurous and they took more risks. I thought they were cooler than my able-bodied friends.

BLOOM: You've said that the team gave you a feeling of belonging.
Ade Adepitan: Yes. As I started to play more sport I gained a lot more self-esteem. When you're good at something it boosts your confidence but it also gains you respect from your peers, especially your able-bodied peers. Rather than shying away from disability I started to be more overt about it. I'd go around in a wheelchair doing wheelies or talking about how I could be playing for the Great Britain team. My friends at school thought I was the cool one.

BLOOM: What was it like growing up with physical and intellectual disability in your family?
Ade Adepitan: My physical disability and having a sister with an intellectual disability made me so much more open-minded. It meant I also grew up a lot quicker than my peers. I certainly knew more about different groups of people.

Most of my friends would freely admit I was the only disabled person they knew and none of them knew anyone with an intellectual disability. It was no longer a shock for me to meet someone with a disability. I was able from a young age to look beyond people’s disabilities and see them as people. There's only so long you can dwell on why this person has such and such and after that it’s more about the person’s personality.

My sister may have an intellectual disability but she can be stubborn, she can be really intelligent, she can be really humorous and she can be quite annoying as well. People with disabilities have all the same traits as anyone else and that's what I see now more than I see the disability. That came from my upbringing.
BLOOM: Even within the disability community some disabilities seem to be valued more than others.

Ade Adepitan: One of the flaws of the human race is that we have to put everything in groups. It’s easier for us to label people and use a hierarchy in order to understand the world. I’m not like that and I think that’s because of my upbringing.
A lot of people think of intellectual disability as the lowest in the hierarchy of disabilities, but even within physical disability there’s a hierarchy. I think people who are deaf and blind probably don’t categorize themselves in the same position as someone who has a mobility impairment. And even within mobility impairments, at the top of the tree are the amputees and at the bottom are the quadriplegics.

It’s the weirdest and most horrible and most divisive part of the human psyche—our want to categorize everything.
BLOOM: What do you think about prenatal testing for Down syndrome?

Ade Adepitan: It’s something I’ve thought about for a while. I’ve wondered if my parents knew that I was going to be disabled, or my sister, would they have still had us, and I don’t know. I think it comes down to individual choice and I can’t make people’s decisions for them. I can say look, I’m disabled and my sister has an intellectual disability and our lives have been just as rich as any able-bodied person’s. Okay, there are complications, but there are complications in all walks of life, whether you’re able-bodied or disabled. I don’t think life is going to be as hard as [parents] think it will be with a child with a disability. And you’ll be enriched in different ways.
BLOOM: How can we make the world an accepting place for people with disabilities?

Ade Adepitan: Everything starts from what you learn as a youngster. All kids going to nursery or kindergarten should be mixing with kids with intellectual and physical disability from that young age.
Intolerance comes from ignorance and lack of knowledge and lack of knowledge comes from lack of experience. We need to mix all these different groups together from the age of three, four, five and stop separation. Separation is what creates intolerance.

BLOOM: There seems to be less inclusion of children with disabilities in classrooms in Britain.
Ade Adepitan: Over the last 10 to 15 years they’ve embarked on what we call mainstreaming and that’s putting kids with physical disabilities, and sometimes with intellectual disabilities, into mainstream schools. We’re probably nowhere near where we should be. Yet in some ways we’re quite advanced.

Last year when you saw the Paralympics our public really embraced it and had so much respect for people with disabilities. But our government doesn’t always reflect the attitudes and feelings of the general public and that may be because our government isn’t representative of the people they’re governing. There aren’t enough people within the government who have that direct experience with disability.
BLOOM: I understand you’re doing some work with the United Nations.

Ade Adepitan: I’m involved in trying to get disability and the rights of people with disabilities included in the UN’s Millennium Goals. They drew up a load of goals to do with improving sanitation and uplifting women in developing countries, but of eight goals they never made mention of disability.
A British politician is lobbying the UN to get disability on the agenda and she’s asked me to go on a trip to Uganda. Apparently Uganda has a very good record in the way it treats people with disabilities. We’re going over to see exactly what it is they’re doing and to see whether we can pass any of it on to other developing countries.

BLOOM: Tell us about the documentary you did on polio in Nigeria.
Ade Adepitan: I’ve been trying for years to do something about myself having polio and being born in Nigeria, but TV is a ruthless world and the execs didn’t think a show about polio was something that would be high on the ratings.

But after the Paralympics was such a success, Channel 4 put me in touch with some really cool directors who’d been doing some research on the problems with Nigeria’s vaccine campaign. Vaccinators had been shot dead by Islamist militants who claimed the vaccines were part of a Western ploy to sterilize children and wipe out the Muslim population. So the two things came together and it was magic.
BLOOM: What was the purpose of the film?

Ade Adepitan: We went back to find out a little about my backstory and why I got polio but also to find out the statistics and the story of polio there. There are only three countries where polio is still prevalent and Nigeria is one of them. Nigeria is the only country in Africa where polio is endemic. Why Nigeria? It’s a wealthy country in comparison to other African countries and it’s relatively stable, there’ no war going on there. So in comparison to its neighbours, we didn’t understand why.
BLOOM: What are the barriers to eradicating polio in Nigeria?

Ade Adepitan: Polio is prevalent predominately in the north of Nigeria where there’s a serious lack of education. A lot of people don’t go to school because of poverty and are illiterate. So they don’t have the knowledge to understand about polio and its impacts.
There are also people who are very nomadic in the northern parts. So it’s difficult for vaccinators to locate them. And polio is very contagious. One person with polio has the potential to infect 100 people yet 95 per cent of people who carry the polio virus will show no symptoms.

The sanitation system in Nigeria is terrible and that’s the way polio is transmitted: through fecal matter.
Back in 2003 there was a vicious rumour spread that polio was a Western ploy to control the Nigerian population, especially the Muslim population based in the north. And that the polio vaccine contained a contaminant that made children infertile. There was an uproar in northern Nigeria and the government suspended the polio campaign for nearly a year. The polio numbers shot back up and Nigeria has never recovered from that.

On our trip we met some people who refused to have their children vaccinated and there are still a lot of people who believe that the vaccine is part of what they call the white witches—part of the white evil medicine to depopulate northern Nigeria.  
There were some heartbreaking stories. We met one guy whose 18-month-old son wasn’t vaccinated and has polio. He can’t walk and crawls on all fours. In the part of Nigeria where he lives, you don’t want to look on the ground because it’s full of sewage and the stench is disgusting. This boy has to crawl through that stuff. 

He probably won’t go to school because the schools aren’t accessible, so he won’t be educated, his chances of getting a job are low and his life expectancy is low. His life is going to be very, very hard before he dies.
BLOOM: What would your life have been like if you’d stayed?

Ade Adepitan: My parents were pretty well educated, both were teachers and come from a family of teachers, so they would have worked really hard to make sure I had as good a life as possible. But my mom was alarmed and worried enough that she was willing to leave her family in Nigeria to come to the UK to give me a better life.  
There’s no comparison of how my life would have been. The opportunities that I’ve had since I’ve been in the UK—I work on TV, I’m a known face in the country, I’ve represented my country as an athlete, I’m respected despite having this disability, people talk about me rather than my disability and I’ve been able to be educated—all of these things would have been greatly reduced.
 

My sister who stayed in Nigeria really struggled at school. They didn’t know what Down syndrome was and for the first few years she was put in a mainstream school and the teachers treated her really badly because they didn’t understand her disability.
BLOOM: Tell me about Omoyile’s life now.

Ade Adepitan: She lives with my mom and she gets to do loads of different things. She’s really into drama and going to drama classes. She’s into art. She’s on a work training course to try to find a placement. She’s worked before but because of the economic problems in the UK she was let off. But now she’s doing some training and maybe will find a placement in a canteen or cafeteria or in a super store.

Omoyile’s a feisty character. She’s got a really strong personality, she’s got a sense of humour and she’s really mischievous. She’s opinionated as well and she’ll work someone out straight away.
BLOOM: You talked a lot about the importance of independence. What about people who have more significant disabilities who can’t have that level of independence? Can they still have rich lives?

Ade Adepitan: I’m sure they can. When I talk about independence it comes on many different levels and in different forms. Independence for me is something you would take for granted, like getting on public transit and going to the mall or to work. But for me it’s something I have to plan if I haven’t got my car.
For someone who is more restricted, they have to find independence within what they can do, and independence may be having the choice of who they have as their carer.

BLOOM: What advice would you give parents of kids with disabilities?
Ade Adepitan: You have to be open-minded, open to everything and surprise yourself. There are lots of things that my family—me and my mom and dad and sister—have achieved that we thought we’d never achieve.  When you start off trying to tackle these tasks, you get into thinking this might not work, but that’s not a reason not to try it.

Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Mistakes are part and parcel of life and you learn a lot from those mistakes. You should go out there and surprise yourself.
There are things you may think your children can’t do and they might not be able to do it now, but with some work they probably can. In 20 years we’ll be looking at people with all kinds of disabilities and being surprised and amazed at what they can do and looking back and thinking 20 years ago how primitive we were to put so many boundaries on our kids.

BLOOM: Do you consider yourself a filmmaker or an elite athlete or an actor, given you’ve done all of the above?
Ade Adepitan: I don’t think of myself in one way. I’m doing such a variety of things. I’ve made four documentaries. The last one was in Mexico about mental health. It was a really intense documentary about the treatment of people with psychiatric disabilities in institutions, and also about a group of people who have psychiatric disabilities who have come together to fight for their rights.

I’ve been so lucky. If someone had told me 20 years ago when I was dreaming of being an international basketball player that I’d be able to go to the Paralympics and win medals I’d have struggled to believe it. If someone said that on top I’d forge a career on TV and be making quite tough and hard-hitting documentaries I would have thought they were taking the mickey out of me and having a laugh.
So many doors have opened. The United Nations has asked me to work with them; I’m asked to go into schools to do talks; I still play sport and have a team that we’re trying to set up to become a type of academy of excellence for disabled kids.

Life is short, we don’t know how long we’ve got and what will happen tomorrow. So it’s about maximizing your skill set and what I’ve learned and really enjoyed over the last 20 years is I’ve always been able to push myself and be at the edge of what I’m doing.
This year I made a documentary on changes in benefits for people with disabilities in the UK. That was incredible because that meant I had to tackle things with a journalistic brain. Every day was learning something new.

Then I went off to Nigeria to make the documentary about polio. It pushed me emotionally and was tough on my presenter skills. I had to learn how to interview people.

Following that I made a documentary in Cuba about athletes defecting. I speak a bit in Spanish but we decided that all the interviews would be done in Spanish. And it was the same in Mexico. I’m challenging myself. 

Photo from Channel 4.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Faith


Five years ago we did a story about Holland Bloorview client Cassidy Sheng (above), who did inpatient rehab here. Imagine my surprise to see this more grown-up Cassidy in a moving commercial for the Canadian Paralympic Committee. Cassidy is my new model of beauty and strength!

Friday, August 31, 2012

Upended































It's not what I thought.

That’s the way I’ve described parenting a child with disabilities and especially intellectual disability, which I believe is the most stigmatized difference in our culture.

The unexamined images lodged in my psyche – that disability wasn’t normal because it didn’t “exist” in my schools or that it was shameful because my friend’s brother jumped from the back of the station wagon, head down, and ran inside when he was dropped off from his sheltered workshop – are inadequate to describe the richness and complexity of my son’s life.

I want to convey this to others who haven’t walked in my shoes. But often I can’t find the words, because maybe they don’t exist in our lexicon. I want to tell a story or take a photo that shakes people out of their clunky mindsets. But most people don’t really want to listen or see.

Perhaps that’s why I’m so excited about the work of Sue Austin, a British performance artist who’s shattering common perceptions about the wheelchair by taking it places it’s never been before.

As part of the Cultural Olympiad events in London, people are watching Sue move effortlessly underwater like a mermaid – except she’s doing it in a wheelchair.

Motors under the chair propel her forward while Sue steers two acrylic hydroplane “fins” that curve out from the footplate with her feet: up, down, side to side and loop the loop, like a pilot doing graceful air manoeuvres.

Sue appears weightless, unlimited, even glamorous – her long dark hair waving behind the chair, a rush of oxygen-tank bubbles escaping upwards and a school of exotic orange fish passing by.

But something about what Sue calls "Creating the Spectacle" upends the spectator. The liberating images of life under the sea jar with our conventional notions of wheelchairs.

“I wanted to open up a new space where people feel the clash of their preconceptions meeting this new image, and it allows people to view a wheelchair in a completely different way,” Sue says. "I wanted to create a narrative that frees everyone.”

Sue began using a power wheelchair in 1996 after a virus attacked her nervous system and she lost her mobility and balance.

“I’d become housebound and my first experience trying a power chair was ‘this is my freedom,’” she says. “It means I can get back out into life and into the world and it’s so exciting to be able to zoom along and feel the wind on my face.”

She left her job in mental health and went back to school to pursue a degree in fine arts. "It kept me focused on what I could do and how I could see the world in a different way that was valuable," she says.

"When you acquire a chronic illness or disability, you can get trapped into thinking your life has ended and focusing on what you’ve lost, rather than on what can evolve from living life in a different way.”

Even though Sue viewed her wheelchair as freeing, she felt weighed down by people who saw it as a symbol of something broken or limited. "The way people reacted to me completely changed. They saw disability as some kind of tragedy. I came to understand that I’d internalized that message.”

Sue decided to incorporate her wheelchair into her art “playing with it, painting it and I found people reacted really positively to it.”

In 2005 Sue learned to scuba dive and was intrigued with the idea of bringing together scuba gear and her wheelchair in an art performance. “The ideas attached to scuba equipment are ones of excitement, adventure and expansion,” she says.

Like diving gear, a wheelchair extends a person’s activity in the world. But when Sue asked people what came to mind when they heard the word wheelchair, they said “‘fear,’ ‘restriction,’ ‘limitation’ and ‘pity.’”

Sue worked with diving experts and engineers to turn a National Health Service wheelchair into one that could be operated underwater.

Her project “Creating the Spectacle” is one of 29 commissions for Unlimited, a program of the Cultural Olympiad and London 2012 Festival that celebrates art from disabled and deaf artists. It includes screenings of a film of her flying through the water that was shown as part of the Paralympic Flame Festivals, as well as live events in Portland linked to the Paralympic sailing events.

“I’m trying to create work that is so surprising that people don’t have a framework to understand it,” Sue says. “They can’t relate it to their ‘normal’ attitudes about a wheelchair so they end up having to go ‘Wow, how did you do that?' When non-disabled people see it they say ‘I want to go in one of those.’”

Sue describes diving with her chair as “complete freedom and joy. In future footage of the project I’m literally doing loop the loop and it’s like flying in space."

Sue credits her art training with enabling her to “refind my identity and a sense of creating something of value in the world. Through art I could create new stories about how seeing the world differently from a chair could have its own unique value.”

She wants to raise the profile of art shaped by people living with disability. “It brings their unique perspective into the world.”

An important part of Sue's art is the images it leaves in viewers' minds. "Once people have the idea of the underwater wheelchair in their mind, where it's never existed before, they become part of the artwork. They're expanding the intention of the art which is to transform preconceptions."

Patents are pending on her underwater wheelchair and she hopes to work on a future version that would give a person with quadriplegia the ability to scuba dive with mouth controls.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

World 'split' over Olympic Games merger






















This BBC story reports that people from 19 countries are split on whether the Paralympics should be integrated into the Olympic Games, according to a poll of more than 10,000 people.

Some 47 per cent of those polled favour merging both Games, while 43 per cent want to keep the Paralympics separate.

A majority of people in six countries -- including China, the US and Australia, which won the largest gold medal counts in recent years -- opposed a merger.

Eight countries, including France, Chile and Egypt, wanted to merge the games, while the remaining five countries were split on the issue.

The question asked was: Should the Paralympics stay separate?

In Canada, 55 per cent of those polled said yes and 42 per cent said no.

Read the story and tell us what you think. I don't understand all of the implications, but some Paralympians quoted were against a merger.

Polling was conducted for the BBC World Service by GlobeScan.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

The big picture


Check out this gorgeous photo series of the Paralympics by the Boston Globe.