Sensitivity

Sometime around 0230 hours CDT this morning, while I spent my sleepless hours doing homework and chatting with my dear friend in Japan (it was about 1730 hours for her), we stumbled upon the topic of “sensitivity seminars.” This rather generic term refers to a class of events usually hosted by human resource departments in both the private and public sectors designed to develop understanding and communication between employees or volunteers in different ethnic, religious, cultural, and/or disability demographics. Naturally, my friend and I discussed “disability sensitivity seminars,” which usually focus on helping able-bodied employees gain some sense of understanding of what it is like to live with a disability. Some of these seminars consist mostly of lectures, PowerPoints, and hand-outs, but many of them include exercises wherein the participants simulate having various disabilities. One person might wear a blindfold, another might have to use a wheelchair, a third wears earplugs, and all of them must work together to perform one or more simple tasks with their newfound limitations. The concept is sound; walk a mile in your brother’s shoes before you judge him.

I have worked in both state and federal agencies, and volunteered at a number of educational and outreach organisations, so I have been to more than one of these seminars. The one I remember most clearly, though, is the one where I neglected to inform the HR representatives running the program that I myself was disabled. I don’t recall why I did this, or how I managed to slip past their radar – maybe I got there early and had already folded up my cane, and I know I didn’t have Prada at the time, though I don’t recall at which job this seminar took place – but I remember the slightly wicked feeling of satisfaction when I acquired the role of “blind person” during our simulation exercise. In retrospect, it was probably rather rude and unkind of me not to let the facilitators in on my little joke, but I was a teenager and having far too much fun to think of that I didn’t do it out of a mean spirit, but simple amusement. My philosophy has always been “if you can’t have fun with a disability, what’s the point of having one?” As if I had any control over that at all…but it’s helpful to pretend I do, sometimes. Helps keep feelings of unfairness and bitterness at bay. So I put on my blindfold and ran through the series of tasks in record time. The details of the exercises aren’t terribly important, but rather the fact that I performed them with unexpected ease and confidence, rendering most of the following discussion questions and PowerPoint bullets irrelevant.

In my experience, most of the people running these events are not disabled, and have not interacted regularly with disabled individuals as part of their workplace environment. This is no fault of theirs; we’re just statistically rare birds, that’s all. So these HR personnel must rely on written policy and published literature for their material on how to create a disability-friendly workplace environment. They have great intentions, and most of the literature they pull from is composed by disabled individuals, or people who specialises in working with the disabled, but the reps themselves have very little, if any, personal experience. Here’s where I have a problem with the idea of the sensitivity seminar.

It comes from a good place; it’s designed to foster empathy and communication, but what it actually does, in my experience, is increase the gap between our ability to understand one another. If you had to operate for a single hour with a blindfold on, figure out how to make a cup of coffee, brush your teeth, go to the bathroom, turn on your computer, find your phone and wallet, without being able to see, you would find these tasks daunting at best. You have to rewrite each instruction you send to your muscles based on unfamiliar information coming from your hands, ears, and nose. It might actually take you the whole hour to do those simple things.

But I have been blind for twenty-five years! I do this sort of thing all the time, every day, every minute of every day! These tasks aren’t difficult for me; they take me a total of ten or fifteen minutes (depending on whether my husband moved my keys without telling me or not J In all fairness, he’s learned not to do that, though). So instead of getting a feel for how I live, you now think of me as some superwoman who has to work so hard to perform even the simplest task that now you look at my list of accomplishments, degrees, jobs, hobbies, and experiences and you cannot imagine how I have the time and energy and confidence to do those things! You were nervous making a cup of coffee because you couldn’t see the hot water entering the cup, how could I possibly be confident enough to climb Diamond Head Crater, or travel the New York City subway system, or spar with a guy twice my size, and win?

Instead of normalizing me in your perspective, this seminar has now turned me into Superwoman.

Now, I have no problems being Superwoman. I don’t mind the adulation, the admiration, the compliments. I really don’t. I am in no way immune to flattery. I want you to be inspired by me, not only because I like the attention and the ego boost, but because I believe that most of the obstacles in our lives are, in fact, ourselves. If you find inspiration in my stories and accomplishments, if it makes you feel more confident, see more possibilities, be a little bolder, try things you’ve always wanted to, then that’s a very good thing! I want knowing me to bring you joy.

But this is hardly the outcome of the sensitivity seminar turning me into Superwoman. Instead, people start asking themselves “how could I possibly understand what it’s like to be disabled? I have no right to try and relate to this person, lest I accidentally minimise their accomplishments and hardships!” It puts us up on a pedestal, makes us more unapproachable. I don’t really have a solution to the problem, a better way to make these seminars more effective yet, but I’m thinking about it, and I’m open to suggestions. Not all seminars are created equal; I’m certain there are some very effective ones out there that I simply haven’t experienced. If you’ve been to one, I want to know about it! What worked? What didn’t? If you feel differently about what these seminars accomplish, I want to know about that, too! I want to hear from both the able-bodied and disabled communities on this one. What makes you feel like you understand? What makes you feel understood?