Simulation Exercises Are Outdated and Damaging to the Disability Community
October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month. Public and private organizations have workshops, public awareness campaigns, host webinars, and other events to pay tribute to the accomplishments of disabled people in the workforce and support equal opportunity for all. Some of these events, unfortunately, include simulation exercises.
While I think setting time aside each year to acknowledge the importance of inclusion in the workforce, in addition to simulation exercises, I also have a problem with the term "awareness." I don't believe a disabled person is someone for whom you need to be "aware." Awareness evokes an idea of danger or caution, something to be feared. I promise you I'm not dangerous. I'm not a bomb, or poisonous spider, or a boiling pot of water on the stove. It sounds ridiculous to have to remind some folks of this: but I'm a human being with a whole life of wonderfully unique lived experiences.
That is why I prefer saying "education" instead of "awareness." Disability Education Month. Or, even information would be fine: Disability Information Month. Knowledge is power, and language matters. Maybe that is why the word "awareness" has always been the default terminology. A disability and power connection goes against so many of the ableist narratives in our culture.
A commonly relied upon practice for addressing disability education is the use of simulation exercises. This happens more frequently when there are no disabled people already employed in the organization or anyone on the leadership team planning the events. In fairness, I guess you can't fault people for what they don't know. On the other hand, they could always ask someone who is disabled what they think about simulation exercises. I think they would get a reasonably quick answer similar to this: "Spending a few hours blindfolded will never make you understand what it is to be blind. Instead, talking with me for a few hours about my life, you might actually learn something valuable that honors both my dignity and disproves some stereotypes you had about my disability."
The truth is, for some non-disabled people, meeting, socializing, and getting to know a disabled person can be an unfamiliar and uncomfortable situation. Their interaction with a disabled person quickly evolves into how we function, not who we are. When this happens, our humanity becomes an afterthought. Our differences become the distractions of dehumanization that breed ignorance, prejudice, and discrimination.
Disability, though, cannot be simulated. A person who can walk and sit in a wheelchair for fifteen minutes, or five hours, will still not know what it is like to live in a wheelchair. The same applies to blindfolding a sighted person to simulate blindness or putting cotton balls in one's ears to understand what it is like to be deaf. All these exercises end up emphasizing the differences that separate disabled from non-disabled and instilling a sense of pity in the non-disabled person when the exercise is over, as they think, "Gee, I'm sure glad I don't have a disability." Exclusion and pity: two barriers of integration for disabled people that already exist in society are reinforced by simulation exercises, the intended purpose of acceptance and inclusion.
I believe that disability is a natural and beautiful part of human diversity that should be celebrated. Just as any other race, gender, class, or ethnicity exists in the world, so do we. We claim our culture within society, with our leaders, history, art, language, spirit, movement, and identity. But what culture allows for the simulation of its people?
Before the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act in 1990, disabled people were disenfranchised due to a lack of civil rights protections and physical barriers to access. Simulation exercises at that time served to demonstrate a real need for such things as ramped curb cuts and Braille elevator buttons. That time, however, has long since passed. As all movements evolve, so has ours, and the framework for achieving equality and integration has gone from a struggle of proving to the non-disabled world "we are just like you" to celebrating our differences with pride and self-acceptance, saying "no, we aren't just like you, and that is okay."
This realignment of values and beliefs calls out the use of disability simulation. The gathering of disabled people together, most popularly done as part of "disability awareness days," to demonstrate "how well" we carry out basic tasks of daily living. Whether it be cooking or using a computer, or demonstrating some adaptive equipment, a disabled person's life is deduced to whatever level of awareness or enlightenment the non-disabled person experiences; without ever really learning anything about the disabled person, that could be genuinely relationship-building.
The reality is that most simulation exercises are planned and orchestrated by non-disabled people. Their well-meaning intention is muted by the fact that they don't have a disability themselves. Therefore they don't understand how simulation exercises are inherently offensive and disingenuous to their purported goal of understanding and connection.
I understand and accept that the disability community is not a monolith, and therefore I welcome open expression and free-flowing dialogue. However, I also advocate for strong solidarity within our community. If something is offensive to one of us, its offense should be recognized and acknowledged by everyone. In short, every voice must be heard.
The justification that simulation exercises are an acceptable practice often occurs because of a misguided endorsement from some disabled people's feelings of internalized oppression. Attitudes and beliefs of shame, self-loathing, and brokenness prevent disabled people from being critical of simulation exercises and their purpose. Simulation exercises provide a cyclical framework of negative stereotypes and indignity that, in turn, reinforce internalized oppression which enables an environment for simulation exercise to exist in the first place.
It is time to end this cycle of pity. Breaking the process begins with disabled people rejecting the notion that our differences are deficient in any way and building internal strength through consciousness-raising around disability identity (accepting yourself and your disability). With a defiant celebration, we exclaim we are "Disabled and proud!" With this pride comes the realization that we do not need anyone to pretend to live as we do (as we have done in simulations) to command our life's acceptance, respect, and value, as anyone else in the world.
A quote by disability rights and independent living advocate Adolf Ratzka states succinctly about positive disability identity, culture, and pride: "As long as we regard our disabilities as tragedies, we will be pitied. As long as we feel ashamed of who we are, our lives will be regarded as useless. As long as we remain silent, we will be told by others what to do."
Martin Luther King is quoted as saying, "You can't legislate attitudes." The passage of the ADA was undoubtedly a watershed moment in the disability rights movement. This legislation, however, does nothing to address the discriminatory attitudes and negative stereotypes that continue to undermine the protections of the law, ultimately harming the lives of disabled people with extreme consequences. I believe that we must be the change we want to see in the world. This means working toward a vision of what we in the Disability Rights Movement consider true equality and full integration is for disabled people in society. I envision a future where there is no longer fear and discrimination, no more shame and oppression, and all people with non-apparent disabilities disclose with pride that they are disabled.
No longer supporting the lazy and antiquated practice of simulation exercises--no matter how well-intentioned-- is a significant first component of this process. This day will come when non-disabled people take a sincere interest in our culture and the needs and concerns of our community. This can be done by learning our history, having an open dialogue of our life experiences, and interpersonal interactions at work, school, and shared communities. Over time a relationship of mutual respect and shared values will be built. This will be the foundation of a fully integrated society that will result in genuine equality in access, education, employment, housing, justice, and opportunity in all things for all disabled people.