In recent years, there has been increased awareness, in schools and elsewhere, centering around issues relating to diversity, equity and inclusion. This effort is very important because it means we are finally addressing a long history of neglecting the contributions and struggles of marginalized groups and rethinking common attitudes and assumptions about race, ethnicity and gender. Yet even while there has been much positive progress, one group tends to be left out of these conversations: people with disabilities. 

I was born with severe hearing loss in my left ear. Growing up, I had to use hearing aids and other assistive technology, deal with auditory processing issues, participate in speech therapy and navigate difficult and awkward situations. There were techniques to help me hear and speak better and resources to help me learn—but there was no strategy for helping me fit in, something that is immensely important to all kids shaping how we think of ourselves. No kid wants to be “the other.” Every kid just wants to be “normal.” But while we are finally teaching kids not to see people from other backgrounds as “other,” how do we help people with disabilities feel “normal” when society defines disability as an abnormality?

Fitting in is the heart of inclusion. The reason why we as a society are trying to improve the ways we think and talk about issues like race, ethnicity and gender is because our old ways of thinking have resulted in mistreating people and institutionalizing barriers to success for members of marginalized groups. Members of those groups have suffered not only due to being discriminated against, but also because they have been labeled and underestimated.

For people living with disabilities, those experiences are all too familiar. I grew up being “the girl whose ears don't work right,” being advised to attend a special-needs school and being cautioned that learning a new language is difficult for students with hearing loss. For the record, I ended up taking two languages in middle school, Latin and Spanish. Listening closely and intently to sounds helped me in those subjects.

One moment I will never forget is being sent out into the hallway so that my teacher could test out my new FM unit, a device to help me hear better in class. My teacher involved the entire class in the activity. I know my teacher thought making a game out of it would normalize it, but it had the opposite effect: I just felt even more isolated and different. These experiences led me to become very introverted for many years.

This issue is something we often see in efforts to address racism and sexism. Well-meaning people think their good intentions are enough, when instead they can result in microaggressions and subtle cues that label others as different. The best strategy for overcoming this problem is listening to members of marginalized groups and centering their perspectives rather than imposing solutions on them. This change should happen with people who struggle with  disabilities as it has with people in other marginalized groups.

Schools should offer ASL courses as a language option like French or Spanish. Teaching about deaf culture and history would be significant. In addition, teachers and school administrators should help students with  disabilities genuinely feel a part of the school community. Parents who teach their kids to accept and respect differences should make sure to include people with disabilities on that list. I believe a combination of these efforts is the only way that people will begin to treat each other in ways that truly are inclusive.