Extending King’s Dream to Disability
With the day off on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day (thanks, NBA, for the
respite) I got to thinking. The good Reverend once said, “I have a dream
that one day people will be judged not by the color of their skin, but by
the content of their character.” This was a man of vision, someone willing
to be thrown in jail (and sadly, give his life) to see justice served and
social change enacted. This was a man who emerged and is remembered today as
unquestionably the most influential leader of the Civil Rights Movement.
Forty years after his assassination, we of course focus on the progress he
achieved toward racial equality.
But as someone with a disability, I see another application of Dr.
King’s vision. I believe that if he had gotten the chance, he would have
been at the forefront of the disability rights movement as well. One could
just as easily replace “color of their skin” with “functioning of their
limbs” or “effectiveness of their minds, eyes and ears.” From my observation, MLK
had such a desire to implement positive, revolutionary reforms that there’s
no reason to believe he would have stopped fighting after conquering the
barriers of segregation. And since his methods of choice were nonviolence,
oratory and civil disobedience, there’s no reason to believe his message
wouldn’t have resonated with the masses in any era. But unfortunately he
left us too soon, leaving everyone to wonder how much more he could have
achieved.
That’s not to say people with disabilities can’t use him an example of how
to advocate. We do need to be careful not to distort his message by
excessively whining, complaining, or becoming overly reliant on the
government in an attempt to advance ourselves. I don’t believe he’d want
that anymore than he’d want kids to skip school in order to attend
ceremonies honoring him. (You may scoff, but I witnessed this happen.) What
I believe MLK would want is for people with disabilities to battle for
change using faith, intellect and determination, just as he did. Can’t you
picture him sitting on the steps of a government building in the 1980s,
refusing to go in as a peaceful protest of the lack of a wheelchair ramp? I
sure can.
So as we commemorate this solemn occasion today, let’s thank him for helping
open the door to opportunity for so many previously oppressed minorities.
Let us also remember that we need to try to walk (or push) through the door
ourselves.
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