Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The monsters in us















Yesterday my blogging friend Meriah Nichols had a piece published in Mamalode called Be not afraid. It’s a candid piece about looking out the window while feeding her daughter Moxie, who has Down syndrome, to see a group of children with special needs walk by. In that moment Meriah is overcome with fear that Moxie will one day be part of that group.

“I’m heart-stoppingly scared that Moxie will be like those kids,” she writes. And at the same time: “I’m deeply ashamed of that fear.”

Meriah’s young son asks his mother, who is now crying, if it’s because of a monster.

“I started to say no, but then I realized I was – monsters, after all, were invading my brain. So I nodded yes. ‘Be not scared of monsters, Mama.’ The boy responds. ‘You should not be scared of monsters.’”

I imagined that the monsters in Meriah's mind were stereotypes about people with disabilities she would have learned as a child. We all pick up cultural values about what is good and what is bad, who is accepted and who is not, without even being aware of it and those biases live in our memory, often at an unconscious level.

The monsters Meriah feared, I think, were depictions of people with disabilities as less than human, somehow lacking, worthless, and so to be feared, as if human indignity could be caught like a flu bug. And Meriah wanted to protect her precious daughter – and herself – from that emotional sting.

Thoughts can pop into our minds that don’t reflect our current way of seeing things. Instead, they are the regurgitation of culturally dominant fears and biases we grew up with. These storylines may surprise us because we weren't even aware we were carrying them. And when they rear their ugly heads they can feel real and threatening.

I think that's what happened in Meriah's story.

It’s not pleasant when this mental "stirring up" happens, but I’m glad it does, because unexamined, these ideas, embedded in our subconscious, can impact how we act.

Which leads me to The Cyclops Child, a piece by Dr. Fredric Neuman published in Psychology Today earlier this month. Oddly, this commentary is published under the header Fighting fear: Confronting phobias and other fears and yet it is a doctor’s account of his own inability to see a child with serious malformations as human, and the fear this engendered in him and his coworkers. Dr. Neuman, we are told, is now an expert in anxiety disorders.

Over 50 years ago, Dr. Neuman was an intern at a Catholic hospital where a child was born with severe malformations. “It had a single fused eye in the middle of its forehead,” he writes. “The irises pointed to the sides. There seemed to be four lids surrounding the eye like a box. It was blind, of course. A large part of the brain and head were missing. There was no nose…The baby’s esophagus and trachea had not separated, so that feeding the child was impossible…Also, the child had extra fingers.”

Dr. Neuman describes the child as “unworldly,” “alien” and not looking like a human being. He says the obstetrician who delivered the baby called it a “monster” – a medical term, Dr. Neuman says, for a grossly misshapen baby.

The obstetrician told the parents the baby had died, to protect them, we learn, and Dr. Neuman feels this was the ethical thing to do. Further, the baby was left to die, unfed, and this caused great anxiety on the unit because the baby did not die quickly. “Because it did not look like a human being, most of the time no one was disturbed by it…” Dr. Neuman writes. Until it cried. “Then it sounded like any other baby. It was hungry, and it could not be fed. Picking it up would not stop the crying.”

Dr. Neuman is asked by a resident to remove the child’s extra fingers for no medical reason but as a “learning experience.” But when Dr. Neuman ties a ligature around the baby’s finger and pulls tightly, it screams. “The kid was in pain,” he writes. “I should have realized that, but somehow I did not. It was because the baby did not really look like a baby...” He puts the baby down and retreats.

The rest of the article details his overwhelming urge to smother the baby because it’s causing such angst among staff on the ward. He says that another obstetrician might have smothered the baby before anyone had a chance to see it. “Such things happen,” he tells us. The baby ends up dying before Dr. Neuman has a chance to see if he has the nerve to put his hand over its mouth. And all these years later he says: “I still think now, that the right thing to do would have been to kill that baby. It wasn’t really a baby; it just sounded like a baby…”

When you think of the hate crime that has been perpetrated against people who are different – who are disabled, gay, the wrong race or religion, poor – doesn’t the rationale usually come down to some version of: “It wasn’t really a (human)?” Throughout Dr. Neuman’s piece, we never learn whether the baby was a girl or a boy because he refers to it only as “it.”

That baby deserved to be held by its parents, the people most invested in its life, to be treated with respect and to not suffer pain.

In another case that reflects societal attitudes about the worth of people with disabilities, a man with autism is being denied a heart transplant in Pennsylvania: Should autism block a man from getting a heart transplant?

It's a complicated case, but it's not hard to see how cultural values and physician attitudes about what constitutes quality of life trickle down into these decisions.

An interesting 2006 journal article crossed my desk about 94 obstetrical and pediatric professionals in a hospital in France who were surveyed about euthanasia. All indicated they would agree to have their own newborn child's life actively terminated through euthanasia for conditions including Down syndrome, intellectual disability or lack of one arm or leg, among other disabilities. One doctor wrote on the survey: "no handicapés are allowed."

And here, a mother writes about learning her teenager with autism was beaten up by a non-disabled peer on the job – at the Department of Disability Services of all places, in the District of Columbia: Eyes wide open.

And that headline sums it up beautifully: Let's open our eyes.

Let’s take a closer look at the monsters that lurk in the recesses of our thinking – the cultural relics of fear and stigma and hate that none of us is immune to.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Tell your own story















A research project at Guelph University in Ontario helps women write their own storyline about what it means to have a disability.

In a three-day workshop called Project Revision, female participants aged 20 to 70 collect footage, music and still photos. They write out the story of their own disability, then edit everything together into a three-minute video. Along the way, they receive constant instruction, guidance and technical support.

At the project’s end, the videos are shared with health-care professionals. Eventually, the researchers hope to share them with the public.

Researcher Eliza Chandler (photo above) created her own digital story when Project Revision began. In her work, Eliza, who has cerebral palsy, portrayed the initial anxiety and shame – and eventual pride – she felt about her disability while attending university.

She says creating a story helped her to express ideas and feelings that she wouldn’t typically have been willing to discuss.

That’s why she believes that digital storytelling can be useful not just to adults, but to children with disabilities and their families.

“As a child growing up, disability wasn’t something I talked about with my family,” Eliza says. “It was obvious it was there, and we dealt with it, but we didn’t really talk about it. If I were to have experienced something like this with my parents when I was a child, I think it would have been really useful and helpful to open up tough conversations.”

Digital story making can also be an effective outlet for children who don’t have a strong command on language. They may be better able to access and share their feelings through pictures or music or tone of voice, Eliza says. And kids are often tech-savvy.

Creating a video about disability may be useful for parents and children.

“Everybody can make a video, and I really do mean that…” Eliza says. “The end product is accessible to a lot of people. Most people can find some sort of entry point into the digital stories.”

Eliza feels the process of digital story-making is an opportunity to alter common depictions of disability.

Too often people with disabilities are portrayed in the media as being pitiful, sick, shameful or regrettable. However, given the chance to represent themselves, Eliza says a different picture emerges.

So far, many participants have framed their disabilities as being "generative" – as adding something to their lives rather than taking away. While the women involved have not always shown pride in their disabilities, Eliza says they have presented them as a catalyst for new and positive things – like an improved perspective or a new relationship.

The stories are truthful and multi-dimensional, a necessary foil to the conventional depictions that are currently so pervasive.

“With a real story, [participants] are able to represent the lived experience, which is much more nuanced than a straightforward stereotype,” Eliza explains.

“It’s not a as though someone’s making an argument you can counter. It’s their truth. That’s really powerful, I think. And really necessary because these are stories that aren’t usually represented.”

Story by Megan Jones

Friday, August 10, 2012

Wanted: Shoes you don't have to tie












A Florida teen with cerebral palsy is asking Nike CEO Mark Parker to design a line of shoes you don't have to tie.

Nice Kicks, a shoe blog by Matt Halfhill, has promised that for every retweet of this video marked with the hashtag #NIKELETTER, they'll send a postcard to Nike’s CEO in support of the idea: http://youtu.be/L5YG6a1-LNY

Matthew Walzer, 16, who wears Nike basketball shoes for ankle support, writes:

"If Nike would design and produce basketball and running shoes with moderate support and some kind of closure system that could be used by everyone, Nike could create a shoe line that attracts people that face the same physical challenges I did and still do, yet it could still be possible for anyone to wear them."

That kind of shoe would be perfect for my son Ben, and I'm sure for many other kids and adults with hand problems -- as well as for on-the-go folks who don't feel like taking the time to bend down and tie two shoelaces.

Let's get tweeting! Louise

**Please read this update from Matthew Walzer

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Girl with mental disability to receive transplant after all

A child who was disqualified from a kidney transplant because of her intellectual disability will receive the procedure, with her mother acting as donor, according to the blog Babble.

Chrissy Rivera, mom to Amelia Rivera, 4 (left), writes that her daughter has been approved for the surgery. Earlier this year, over 50,000 people signed a petition at change.org asking the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia to reconsider its decision to deny Amelia a transplant.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

When ready, you reach out


Lies Ferriman was thrust into the world of rehabilitation six years ago when her son Sasha had a snowboarding accident and sustained a brain injury. In this BLOOM video clip, Lies shares her family’s story and her advice for other parents who are coping with a child’s disability following trauma. Lies is a family mentor in Holland Bloorview’s family resource centre.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Who decides what's beautiful?
















This adorable little tot is the face of a new advertising campaign by Spanish swimwear designer Dolores Cortés according to Adweek. "People with Down syndrome are just as beautiful and deserve the same opportunities," Cortés is quoted as saying.

Amen. This was a bold step in a business that typically renders children and adults with disabilities invisible. How often do you see children with disabilities featured in ads or mainstream media? What about parenting magazines? And not as part of a 'niche' story about a particular type of disability, but as part of the broad 'landscape' of childhood, which, in reality, they are?

A couple of weeks ago I flew in to Toronto's International Airport and walked under a massive billboard featuring children from diverse cultures. The creators must have gone to great lengths to ensure this rich representation. But no child with disability was included. Why?

Turning Valentina (above) into a swimwear model proclaims loudly and clearly that children with differences are here, they're gorgeous, and they're valued. Disability is normal.

"Representation in media is a form of acknowledgement by society," disabled British model Shannon Murray writes in The Independent. "...Consider Cherylee Houston’s character, Izzy, in Coronation Street or Cerrie Burnell presenting on CBBC. Both received press attention because of their difference, but now that is barely mentioned, they are simply accepted by viewers as performers on television like their able bodied colleagues. I welcome the day when we might have a kick-ass Disney heroine who just happens to have a disability so disabled children can see representation from a young age."

I'd like to see a Disney heroine with an intellectual disability.

On an oddly related note, a friend posted a link to this San Francisco Chronicle story about a New York charity that offers free plastic surgery to typical children who have been bullied because of their appearance. No, you didn't read that wrong! Featured in a CNN video included with the online piece is Nadia, a typical 14-year-old girl who was bullied for her protruding ears. The Little Baby Face Foundation covered a $40,000US procedure to have Nadia's ears pinned back. But they didn't stop there. The surgeon who saw Nadia decided her nose and her chin needed some work too.

Some of you remember my blog about an otoplasty my son Ben had that wasn't successful. To be fair to Little Baby Face, the stated objective on their website is to offer free plastic surgery to children with craniofacial 'deformities' like my son -- not to those who are teased for typical features.

However, the idea that a solution to bullying for a girl like Nadia is to change her appearance -- rather than the perpetrators' behaviour -- reminded me of a trend in the 1990s to 'normalize' children with Down syndrome through plastic surgery. It wasn't uncommon then for children with Down syndrome to undergo procedures that included shortening the tongue, removing skin folds from the eyelids and pinning the ears.

And this is how the Little Baby Face plastic surgery story circles back to little Valentina's ad campaign above.

French research* published in April this year showed that adults evaluating photos of children with and without Down syndrome were more likely to rate children with Down syndrome less favourably if they had features 'highly distinctive' of the disorder. This would seem to suggest that children with Down syndrome whose features have been 'muted' through surgery will be better accepted socially.

Of course that's not a reason to do the surgery!

The same French researchers also had adults do implicit-association tests, which capture the strength with which certain groups of people are automatically, without conscious awareness, associated with positive or negative attributes.

They found that at this unconscious level, photos of children with Down syndrome were automatically associated with a negative trait, even by people who had openly rated the photos positively. "People may not have access to some of their thinking which is not conscious," said study researcher Claire Enea-Drapeau. Even when people are outwardly accepting of children with Down syndrome, negative "implicit associations may persist, proving that these associations can be retrieved from memory. These are the result of social attitudes and values carried by our cultural environment. As long as we don't know about them...we are trapped in automatic attitudes or associations. But when you are aware of it, then you can start to struggle."

Rather than excluding children with disabilities from media images -- or trying to make them more 'normal' through surgery -- and staying trapped in archaic stereotypes, I'd like to see kids with disabilities represented in popular culture so that we can begin 'the struggle' Enea-Drapeau speaks of. "If we know we are carrying implicit stereotypes, then we can choose to try to change them," Enea-Drapeau said.

Instead of expensive, painful surgical procedures I'd like to see investment in research on how to uncover and change hidden stereotypes.

*Enea-Drapeau C, Carlier M, Huguet P (2012) Tracking Subtle Stereotypes of Children with Trisomy 21: From Facial-Feature-Based to Implicit Stereotyping. PLoS ONE 7(4): e34369. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0034369

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

L'Arche's lesson: Pay attention






















Bénédicte Millet is a small, spritely, silver-haired dynamo.

Though it was the end of a long, busy day at L'Arche in Trosly, France she sat with me, listened attentively to my questions, and gave careful thought to her responses. She looked me in the eye and made me feel that what I had to say mattered.

Bénédicte works with a team of staff who support volunteers who come from across Europe to work at L'Arche -- a community that brings together adults with intellectual disabilities and young adult volunteers.

During our interview an older resident came to meet with Bénédicte. I assumed they had a prior appointment. Instead of ending our conversation, Bénédicte introduced us and explained I was from Canada. She treated this gentleman with great respect. "Bravo, Canada!" the man exclaimed. He then sat patiently while we finished talking.

Bénédicte first heard about L'Arche over 20 years ago when she was working as a speech therapist. "I was in Palestine working with deaf children and I met Jean Vanier who was there with a group from L'Arche on a pilgrimage," she said. "I was interested in how they related to each other. I felt they had very deep relationships. I came here to see and I've been here for 21 years. It's changed my way of life."

Before L'Arche, Bénédicte says she had always lived in her head -- "organizing, reflecting. I had lots of ideas, but I feel I was far from a human life. I was far away from a lot of people."

The message to change her life came from a L'Arche resident.

"I was still running a lot," she recalled. "To clean, to go to the supermarket, working, working, working. And one day a handicapped man in the home took my hand and told me: 'Now, you come and you sit here and you stay here.' And I did.

"I understood how this was a deep message for me to change my life and to pay more attention. In fact, I realize that (people with disabilities) have taught me to be really present. I see how I am different now. How I can be much closer to people. How my life is more interesting and more lively."