disability – Real Social Skills

There seems to be a major disconnect about what it means for a conference to have disability representation. I’ve seen a version of this happen a number of times:

A panel on diversity or social justice has no disability representation.
No panelist talked about disability as a justice/diversity issue, or even alluded to disability experience.
A disabled person points out the problem to the organizers.
The organizers say something to the effect of “Actually, one of the panelists has [some disability or other]”.

Organizers are sometimes genuinely confused about why this isn’t a solution, and I’m realizing that this is in part because “representation” means at least two different things:

Sometimes representation just means diversity of panelists, ie:

There need to be panelists who are disabled (and in many context, there need to be panelists who are *openly* disabled).
This is important in part because when there are no openly disabled people on a panel, this is often a sign of disability discrimination.
(Especially if there are no disabled people on *any* panels at a conference, or there are only disabled panelists on disability-focused panels.)
In some contexts, diversity of panelists is enough.

Sometimes representation means literally being a representative of a community or movement:

Sometimes it’s not enough to have diverse panelists. Sometimes it’s necessary to have panelists who can represent other disabled people by speaking on behalf of an organized disability community or movement.
In many contexts, there need to be panelists who can speak from a position of expertise about disability issues.
For instance, if the topic of the panel is intersectional activism or collaborating across movements, you need someone who can represent at least some part of the disability activist community.
Diversity of identity is not enough in this case, because having an identity is not the same as representing an organized advocacy community.
Being disabled does not in and of itself make someone a well-informed representative of the organized disability rights community.

Sometimes conferences forget that disability is a justice issue, and neglect to book anyone who can address disability as a justice issue, eg:

A conference holds a panel on intersectional advocacy called “Showing up for each other: Owning our privilege and leaving no one behind”.
The panel consists of an LGBTQ group, an anti-racist group, an economic justice group, and a feminist group.
None of the panelists are disability rights leaders.
None of the panelists talk about disability rights issues.
None of the panelists even talk about their own disability experiences.
On a panel about intersectionality and showing up for each other, disability issues are completely overlooked.
Even if one of the panelists happens to have a disability or medical condition, this is still a problem.
(Especially if the organization holding the conference has a consistent pattern of overlooking disability issues.)
In this case, something has gone badly wrong and the conference needs to make an immediate plan for making sure it doesn’t happen again.

Sometimes conferences forget that diversity still matters when the topic isn’t disability or general intersectionality:

Not all disabled activists are disability rights activists.
Some disabled activists are focused primarily on other issues.
Eg: Some disabled activists are leading LGBTQ rights projects; some disabled activists are leading anti-racist organizations.
If disabled activists presenting about disability are the only disabled presenters at your conference, something has probably gone wrong.
If there are no disabled people presenting on any other topics, it’s important to think about what they is and what could be done to fix that.

Sometimes conferences forget that the disability community is diverse:

Many disability rights activists are also marginalized in other ways.
Many disability rights activists are also women, gay, trans, black, poor, Jewish, Muslim, immigrants, several of these, or otherwise multiply marginalized.
Eg: If all of the disability rights activists presenting at a conference are straight white Christian men, something has probably gone wrong.
If the range of disabled presenters at a conference doesn’t reflect the diversity of the disability community, it’s important to think about why that is and what could be done to fix that.

Here’s an example of representation in both the diversity sense and the community representative sense:

There’s a writing conference or a comic conference or something.
Access needs are met in ways that make it possible for disabled people to go to the conference and present at the conference (without facing insurmountable or humiliating barriers).
General panels about diversity have disabled panelists knowledgable about disability issues.
Panels that are specifically about disability are lead by disabled panelists.
Many panels about topics *other than* disability have panelists with disabilities on them, in numbers that reflect the fact that disability is common.
Some disabled panelists on panels about topics unrelated to disability/diversity talk about disability and some don’t.
(Because not all disabled people are or want to be disability advocates.)

Short version: Representation on panels means at least two things. Sometimes it means a diverse range of panelists; sometimes it means panelists who literally represent a diverse range of communities. Scroll up for reasons this matters, and what problems can be caused when only one type of representation is considered.

Disabled presenters tend to face really intense ableism. One way this plays out is that audiences laugh at us when we talk about serious things.

This happens particularly frequently when:

Nondisabled professionals or our parents are also on the panel, or presenting right before or after us.
The audience is primarily parents of disabled children/adults.
The audience is primarily professionals who work with people with intellectual disabilities.
We talk about a desire to be taken seriously.
We discuss our objections to being treated like children.
We describe being proud of a personal accomplishment.
We describe being treated inappropriately by a professional.
We describe how we felt as disabled children.

When audiences do this, it’s not nice laughter. It’s a way of asserting power. That laughter means “I don’t have to take you seriously”.

As a disabled presenter, it’s often possible to insist on respect. It’s easier said than done. It gets easier with practice, but the practice often hurts. Here are some things I’ve found helpful:

It can help to remind yourself that you know what you’re talking about, and the things you’re saying are important:

You’re presenting because you know what you’re talking about.
People should take your expertise seriously. When you talk about the things you know, they shouldn’t laugh at you.
Your accomplishments are not a joke. People should not laugh or be condescending about them.
People who treat you like a baby are doing something wrong. Your desire to be treated in an age-appropriate way is not a joke. People shouldn’t laugh at you for talking about it.

When an audience laughs at you, it can help to make it uncomfortable for them:

Don’t smile, and don’t laugh yourself.
Wait for the audience to stop laughing.
Wait a second before going on to make it feel awkward.
One option: Ask the audience “Why is that funny?” then continue.
Another option: Repeat what you said before people started laughing.

Try to avoid nervous laughter and nervous smiles:

It’s taboo for disabled people to talk about disability.
Talking about taboo topics can be embarrassing.
When we’re talking about embarrassing things, it can be natural to smile or laugh nervously.
If you seem embarrassed, the audience is more likely to feel like the topic is embarrassing and laugh to get rid of the embarrassment.
If you laugh, the audience is more likely to feel like it’s ok for them to laugh.

Making jokes on purpose:

Making jokes can be a way to control what people are laughing about.
This can be easier than getting them to not laugh in the first place.
In these contexts, it can be better to avoid self-deprecating humor.
It’s usually better to make jokes about ableism.
(This isn’t a hard-and-fast rule though, do what works for you.)

For instance, say you’re giving a talk about educational discrimination:

This is self-deprecating:
“I was this ridiculous little kid in third grade. I was so enthusiastic, but I couldn’t even read. I’d hold up the books and pretend. My imaginary friend may have stolen the cookies, but she sure didn’t read for me.”
This is making fun of ableism:
“My teachers kept assigning me worksheets that I couldn’t do. They kept making me read in front of the class, even though I could never do it. They kept telling me to just do it. And they say we’re the ones who lack empathy and theory of mind.”

Don’t beat yourself up when things go wrong:

Presenters/panelists with disabilities face intense ableism.
It’s going to hurt sometimes.
The problem isn’t that your skin is too thin; the problem is that people are hurting you.
A thick skin is still worth developing.
If an audience laughs at you, it’s their fault, not yours. They shouldn’t act like that.
It’s messed up that we have to develop skills at deflecting ableism and insisting on respect.
It’s also worth knowing that these skills exist and can be learned.
It gets much easier with practice, but no one succeeds all the time.
When a talk goes bad, don’t beat yourself up, and don’t blame yourself for the audience’s ableism.
You’re ok, they’re ableist, and the things you have to say are still valuable when they’re not valued.

These are some of the methods I’ve used to deal with audience ableism. There are others. What are yours?

Short version: When disabled presenters give serious presentations, people often laugh at us in ableist ways. Scroll up for some strategies on how to handle that attitude from an audience.