Post by bear on Dec 4, 2019 4:50:06 GMT 7
Teaching your child about disability and difference
Disability advocate Ellen Fraser-Barbour describes how we can meet childhood curiosity about difference, and reassure kids that disability is a part of life and humanity.
Every time I step foot outside my door, I steel myself for public reactions. It's natural to stare.
Having a visible facial difference (along with multiple disabilities) means prying eyes and a constant stream of comments and questions.
It would be natural to assume most of these comments are from young children who aren't yet aware of social norms and boundaries. Truth is, I feel more 'othered' and 'judged' by adults.
When I was about eight years old, I was out in the school yard with my PE class. One minute I was in the middle of a game with my classmates, the next minute there was an adult running towards me, then in front of me, wailing and stroking my face. She sobbed. I stood frozen, unable to move. The PE teacher eventually came and ushered her away.
At that age, it was a shock to experience such an invasive and unwanted emotional reaction. I later found out she was a parent who had just dropped her child off at the school.
I remember teachers explaining away her reaction by saying that some people view disability as a sign of bad karma in a previous life. Some months later, as I was leaving school assembly with my classmates, this same woman approached me again, and tried to offer me a plate of cupcakes. I said no, but she followed me, insistently trying to make me eat one. I had been reading Roald Dahl's The Witches at the time and thought she had poisoned the cupcakes. My teacher had to explain that most likely, she was trying to say sorry.
This woman meant no harm, yet the experience was disconcerting and frightening. It rocked my sense of normality, and illustrates what it's like to be objectified as 'pitiful'.
I now have a lifetime of such stories. It is not uncommon for me to receive emotional reactions. Sympathy, pity, prayers. Rapid judgements and low expectations.
In public, I can see people calculating whether I am safe, or a threat. Whether I am capable, or dependent. Whether the person I am with is my support worker, or a friend. Underneath that stare — or adversely, that diverted gaze — is an awkwardness and fear of difference.
People are figuring out how to interact with me, whether to look or not look, whether to speak to me directly, or to the person with me instead.
I see the discomfort in parents as they hurry their child away when asked why that person looks like that. I see it in the way the cashier's eyes skip past me to the person behind, assuming I can't pay for my own groceries. I see it in the way passers-by double-take, draw a breath and take a moment to recover themselves from the shock of meeting someone like me.
I speak about these encounters because I want people to understand it's not enough to simply teach children manners, respect and kindness. As adults, when we feel confronted with someone who has a disability, we need to check our own judgements. Are we feeling awkward, ashamed or horrified?
What should curiosity around disability be met with?
When a child is reprimanded for asking about my differences, I can't help but imagine the child's curiosity being shut down and shamed.
Pride in the face of exclusion
I know my existence is likely to be explained to that child using words like "suffering", "sad", "difficult", "broken", "crippled", "tragic". Think about the impact those words and assumptions have on a child's view of disability and embodied difference.
This is why it's important to be aware of the narratives we are projecting onto our children.
These narratives teach children discomfort, avoidance and fear toward people who have a disability. That we are Other.
I believe children ask with the intention of learning, rather than judging. I am also aware, though, that my perspective may not be shared by all.
Some people do not appreciate questions whereas others, like me, don't mind them. We must be sensitive to the diversity within the disability community.
Edward Meskanen is a nine-year-old actor and facial difference activist. He tells me that if he had a magic wand, he would change the way people with disability are seen in media.
"They should stop using people with disabilities as the bad guys in movies," Eddy says.
"We need to make us really good guys so that then we won't feel left out in the world. I would like people to take more notice of these issues."
Kids' innate openness
Given the work I've done with young children, I'm well aware of the honest and blatant questions children often ask. It is rare to see discomfort in children's responses. Instead, I see curiosity, openness, a desire to understand. A desire to learn and comprehend humanity.
During one of these sessions, two-and-a-half year old Jason realised something was different about me. He stopped, paused and blurted out, "What happened to your face?"
I thought for a while — carefully trying to construct an answer for a two-year-old that didn't include negative words to describe myself.
Me: Well. You know how people are different body shapes and colours? Like, you have blue eyes?
Jason: Yes.
Me: …and someone else may have brown eyes.
Jason: Yes. And I have brown hair.
Me: Exactly, and your mummy has blonde hair? Is it a different colour to yours? You are born different to everyone else around you.
Jason: Yes…
Me: Well some people have red hair. Some people are tall, some are short. Some have dark skin, others have lighter skin. Some have legs that work differently, or bodies that move differently.
Jason: Oh!! YES. I have two eyes and you have one eye! We are all different…
He was looking at me as though a lightbulb had just switched on.
Jason then further endeared himself to me by running to find his teddy, and, absolutely beaming with excitement, covered one of teddy's eyes excitedly, exclaiming: "Look Teddy no have two eyes! Teddy has one just like you!"
I noticed in this sweet and simple interaction that Jason did not say "Teddy's sick" or "Teddy hurt himself" or "Teddy needs surgery". Teddy was just One-Eye Teddy.
A wish for parents
Speaking about the attitudes of parents and children, fellow disability activist Carly Findlay has this to say.
"I wish parents wouldn't be silent. I want parents to tell their child that everyone is different, and teach them what positive and negative comments about appearance are and means for us. Preferably before an encounter.
"I don't want to be expected to educate during these encounters — for them, it might be the first time they've seen someone who looks like me, but for me, it is probably not the first time that day I have encountered a curious, loud or frightened child (or adult!).
"I want parents to expose their children to diverse people — people of different colours, races, genders, appearances, disability — so that encountering someone with a visible difference is not a surprise. Social media is a great place to start."
There's no simplistic formula I can give you on how to teach your children to be open and accepting of people's differences. The challenge is ours collectively as individuals, as families, as a society.
We need to question ourselves and our children about where their assumptions come from, and be open and sensitive to the individuality of people's backgrounds.
We can be thoughtful and intentional in how we respond and connect to people around us who come from different backgrounds and walks of life.
Use your words
Pay attention to the words used to describe us. Reassure kids that disability is a part of life and humanity.
Explain that many of us will have a disability at some point in our lives.
Disability and relationships
The most difficult things to deal with aren't related to disability, but the assumptions and misconceptions of others in the community.
Read more
Normalise and celebrate the experience of disability as equal to any other aspect of diversity. Be mindful about teaching our children to pity and objectify others.
Take every opportunity to prepare children for a world of diversity by intentionally exposing them to the human diversity, in which disability is a part.
There are many ways to do this: read picture books with disabled characters, seek out television programs that have strong positive leads who have a disability. Attend disability pride marches or public talks. Pay disabled people to attend and deliver school inclusion workshops. Refer to us with warmth as your family members, friends, colleagues, politicians, actors… the list goes on.
Inclusion, empathy and respect starts with us, as adults, and not with baking "pity cupcakes" for those poor disabled people over there.
We need to embrace the changes happening in our culture and recognise that as parents, many of us may not be comfortable because we ourselves have not experienced close contact and familiarity with people with disability.
We need to recognise our own awkwardness and start to look for intentional opportunities to broaden our experiences in a real way.
We need to change the way we value, interact and talk with people with disability. This begins with us and the words we use to describe people in conversations, in media, online and in our daily lives.
Ellen Fraser-Barbour is a young disability and human rights advocate. She has an interest in preventing harm and discrimination and improving social justice. She is currently working on a PhD in disability studies at Flinders University and is a member of the Health Performance Council, where she is involved with a project on people with disability accessing the healthcare system.
www.abc.net.au/life/helping-your-kids-to-not-be-awkward-around-disability/11739256
Disability advocate Ellen Fraser-Barbour describes how we can meet childhood curiosity about difference, and reassure kids that disability is a part of life and humanity.
Every time I step foot outside my door, I steel myself for public reactions. It's natural to stare.
Having a visible facial difference (along with multiple disabilities) means prying eyes and a constant stream of comments and questions.
It would be natural to assume most of these comments are from young children who aren't yet aware of social norms and boundaries. Truth is, I feel more 'othered' and 'judged' by adults.
When I was about eight years old, I was out in the school yard with my PE class. One minute I was in the middle of a game with my classmates, the next minute there was an adult running towards me, then in front of me, wailing and stroking my face. She sobbed. I stood frozen, unable to move. The PE teacher eventually came and ushered her away.
At that age, it was a shock to experience such an invasive and unwanted emotional reaction. I later found out she was a parent who had just dropped her child off at the school.
I remember teachers explaining away her reaction by saying that some people view disability as a sign of bad karma in a previous life. Some months later, as I was leaving school assembly with my classmates, this same woman approached me again, and tried to offer me a plate of cupcakes. I said no, but she followed me, insistently trying to make me eat one. I had been reading Roald Dahl's The Witches at the time and thought she had poisoned the cupcakes. My teacher had to explain that most likely, she was trying to say sorry.
This woman meant no harm, yet the experience was disconcerting and frightening. It rocked my sense of normality, and illustrates what it's like to be objectified as 'pitiful'.
I now have a lifetime of such stories. It is not uncommon for me to receive emotional reactions. Sympathy, pity, prayers. Rapid judgements and low expectations.
In public, I can see people calculating whether I am safe, or a threat. Whether I am capable, or dependent. Whether the person I am with is my support worker, or a friend. Underneath that stare — or adversely, that diverted gaze — is an awkwardness and fear of difference.
People are figuring out how to interact with me, whether to look or not look, whether to speak to me directly, or to the person with me instead.
I see the discomfort in parents as they hurry their child away when asked why that person looks like that. I see it in the way the cashier's eyes skip past me to the person behind, assuming I can't pay for my own groceries. I see it in the way passers-by double-take, draw a breath and take a moment to recover themselves from the shock of meeting someone like me.
I speak about these encounters because I want people to understand it's not enough to simply teach children manners, respect and kindness. As adults, when we feel confronted with someone who has a disability, we need to check our own judgements. Are we feeling awkward, ashamed or horrified?
What should curiosity around disability be met with?
When a child is reprimanded for asking about my differences, I can't help but imagine the child's curiosity being shut down and shamed.
Pride in the face of exclusion
I know my existence is likely to be explained to that child using words like "suffering", "sad", "difficult", "broken", "crippled", "tragic". Think about the impact those words and assumptions have on a child's view of disability and embodied difference.
This is why it's important to be aware of the narratives we are projecting onto our children.
These narratives teach children discomfort, avoidance and fear toward people who have a disability. That we are Other.
I believe children ask with the intention of learning, rather than judging. I am also aware, though, that my perspective may not be shared by all.
Some people do not appreciate questions whereas others, like me, don't mind them. We must be sensitive to the diversity within the disability community.
Edward Meskanen is a nine-year-old actor and facial difference activist. He tells me that if he had a magic wand, he would change the way people with disability are seen in media.
"They should stop using people with disabilities as the bad guys in movies," Eddy says.
"We need to make us really good guys so that then we won't feel left out in the world. I would like people to take more notice of these issues."
Kids' innate openness
Given the work I've done with young children, I'm well aware of the honest and blatant questions children often ask. It is rare to see discomfort in children's responses. Instead, I see curiosity, openness, a desire to understand. A desire to learn and comprehend humanity.
During one of these sessions, two-and-a-half year old Jason realised something was different about me. He stopped, paused and blurted out, "What happened to your face?"
I thought for a while — carefully trying to construct an answer for a two-year-old that didn't include negative words to describe myself.
Me: Well. You know how people are different body shapes and colours? Like, you have blue eyes?
Jason: Yes.
Me: …and someone else may have brown eyes.
Jason: Yes. And I have brown hair.
Me: Exactly, and your mummy has blonde hair? Is it a different colour to yours? You are born different to everyone else around you.
Jason: Yes…
Me: Well some people have red hair. Some people are tall, some are short. Some have dark skin, others have lighter skin. Some have legs that work differently, or bodies that move differently.
Jason: Oh!! YES. I have two eyes and you have one eye! We are all different…
He was looking at me as though a lightbulb had just switched on.
Jason then further endeared himself to me by running to find his teddy, and, absolutely beaming with excitement, covered one of teddy's eyes excitedly, exclaiming: "Look Teddy no have two eyes! Teddy has one just like you!"
I noticed in this sweet and simple interaction that Jason did not say "Teddy's sick" or "Teddy hurt himself" or "Teddy needs surgery". Teddy was just One-Eye Teddy.
A wish for parents
Speaking about the attitudes of parents and children, fellow disability activist Carly Findlay has this to say.
"I wish parents wouldn't be silent. I want parents to tell their child that everyone is different, and teach them what positive and negative comments about appearance are and means for us. Preferably before an encounter.
"I don't want to be expected to educate during these encounters — for them, it might be the first time they've seen someone who looks like me, but for me, it is probably not the first time that day I have encountered a curious, loud or frightened child (or adult!).
"I want parents to expose their children to diverse people — people of different colours, races, genders, appearances, disability — so that encountering someone with a visible difference is not a surprise. Social media is a great place to start."
There's no simplistic formula I can give you on how to teach your children to be open and accepting of people's differences. The challenge is ours collectively as individuals, as families, as a society.
We need to question ourselves and our children about where their assumptions come from, and be open and sensitive to the individuality of people's backgrounds.
We can be thoughtful and intentional in how we respond and connect to people around us who come from different backgrounds and walks of life.
Use your words
Pay attention to the words used to describe us. Reassure kids that disability is a part of life and humanity.
Explain that many of us will have a disability at some point in our lives.
Disability and relationships
The most difficult things to deal with aren't related to disability, but the assumptions and misconceptions of others in the community.
Read more
Normalise and celebrate the experience of disability as equal to any other aspect of diversity. Be mindful about teaching our children to pity and objectify others.
Take every opportunity to prepare children for a world of diversity by intentionally exposing them to the human diversity, in which disability is a part.
There are many ways to do this: read picture books with disabled characters, seek out television programs that have strong positive leads who have a disability. Attend disability pride marches or public talks. Pay disabled people to attend and deliver school inclusion workshops. Refer to us with warmth as your family members, friends, colleagues, politicians, actors… the list goes on.
Inclusion, empathy and respect starts with us, as adults, and not with baking "pity cupcakes" for those poor disabled people over there.
We need to embrace the changes happening in our culture and recognise that as parents, many of us may not be comfortable because we ourselves have not experienced close contact and familiarity with people with disability.
We need to recognise our own awkwardness and start to look for intentional opportunities to broaden our experiences in a real way.
We need to change the way we value, interact and talk with people with disability. This begins with us and the words we use to describe people in conversations, in media, online and in our daily lives.
Ellen Fraser-Barbour is a young disability and human rights advocate. She has an interest in preventing harm and discrimination and improving social justice. She is currently working on a PhD in disability studies at Flinders University and is a member of the Health Performance Council, where she is involved with a project on people with disability accessing the healthcare system.
www.abc.net.au/life/helping-your-kids-to-not-be-awkward-around-disability/11739256
