Authored by Lavance John, Senior English Major at GBC
“Awareness”
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, it is:
“the quality or state of being aware or conscious.”
But what does being “aware” or “conscious” even mean?
Our world is rife with social media. We’re more connected than ever before. So, shouldn’t being ‘aware’ be common sense at this point?
While I’d love to be pedantic and give another dictionary’s definition, I think it’s time we had a serious talk about the bridge between words and actions.
And as we’re enjoying disability pride month, honoring and celebrating the lives of our disabled comrades and family, one thing we should be aware of is how this gap has continuously altered, detrimentally, the lives of disabled people across the spectrum.
It is true that we’re more “aware,” as one may say, but to what extent? For how long? Of how many people?
For instance, did you know that disability pride month wasn’t established as a national celebration until July of 2015, when the Mayor of New York City, Bill De Basio, declared his city as the first to officially observe this occasion?
Imagine the generations before mine that didn’t get so much as a mention by their government officials. The people who have trudged and toiled to give us the rights we have today.
The people who fight, not just for their freedom, but for a collective cause…
We are the culmination of histories perpetually reinventing themselves. Pride is but a mere portion of the humility we should have for our strides toward a more inclusive world.
Ok, so you’re not sold on history. You wouldn’t be the first. But don’t think that because it’s done that it’s over. No, disability rights are still being fought for and against worldwide.
Right now, disability activists and advocates are opposed to what’s happening in our current political landscape.
Americans, especially, criticize the Trump administration’s reorganization of special education services from the department of education, to the United States Department Of Justice, and the United States Department of Health and Human Services respectively.
Doing so without congressional procedure, members of the disability community fear that current head of HSS and DOJ Robert Fredrick Kennedy Jr and Todd Blanche will use their governance to undermine the care, consideration, and cooperation of disabled people.
While these decisions may not affect you personally, consider the family, friends, teachers, and colleagues in your life who’ve either had or have disabilities.
Some may be moving in silence to prevent disturbing you with their baggage – if you have the capacity to listen.
Some could be thinking of removing themselves from life all together with the understanding that they’ll never be a “functional member of society.”
Some may not have the choice to move in either direction, under the whims of whoever humors the position of caretaker.
The truth is, disabled people are everywhere. In your schools. In your homes. In your stores and centers.
That may sound scary now, but look at it this way: you could become disabled yourself someday.
Then you can ask the bigger question: why is fear the platform I chose to uphold, and who told me to?
All these issues. All these plans.
They sound so abstract; systemic; interconnected.
It’s overwhelming, bordering on impossible.
Maybe they don’t have to be.
You – yes, you! Dear reader!
Chances are, you’re a college student or staff member scrolling through Instagram. What if I told you there’s an opportunity to get involved in your community in a meaningful way?
At Goldey-Beacom College, there’s a student-led organization titled The Accessible Voices Alliance.
There, I, as its current President, and Laneah Whiddon, rising junior and current Vice President, use our platform to assist disabled people.
Whether it’s fundraisers, collaborations, social media posts, or events, we ensure that all voices, disabled or otherwise, receive an equitable experience.
There’s also our Eagles Autism Foundation chapter, run by current President Kinidie Long and Vice President Abigail Williams. Like AVA, EAF hosts a myriad of events.
Did I mention that Williams and I are student workers at Goldey-Beacom’s brand new sensory room? It’s overseen by the advisor of EAF and head of counseling, Megan Romano and officially accredited by Kulture City!
The sensory room is open from 9am to 5pm all workweek! Anything you want to donate – money, tools, and fidgets are greatly appreciated. We also accept financial donations at our mail-in Office of Institutional Advancement.
Remember, involvement is never stagnant. You can feel pumped and ready to participate on day one, and decide to change course on day thirteen. There’s no moral obligation to keep the wheels turning; as long as you’re reciprocal and genuine.
I have to come clean: I haven’t been exactly honest about my disabilities. I don’t disclose them unless it’s necessary, but I guess I can make an exception.
Allow me to introduce myself: I am Lavance John, an autistic person with ADHD. I’ve struggled with these disabilities for as long as I can remember.
Sometimes, going to school was hell on Earth. I’ve been picked on and bullied by countless people, from kids to grown ups. There were days I wanted to take my own life, and that there was no life worth living for. I’ve been other people’s nightmare, and a source of pain that I live to regret.
But you know what?
Life is a funny thing.
Those people who made me miserable? They’re not in my life anymore.
Those times where I wanted to end it all? They illuminated the path to better help and wellness techniques.
Those people who’ve been on the receiving end of my horrible behavior? I’ve made amends, and if I couldn’t, at least I can forgive myself.
And I didn’t do that alone.
The disability community helped me so much; From peers to mentors, family to colleagues.
I thank Special Olympics Delaware for giving me a place to call home.
I thank the Red Clay Consolidated School District for allowing me the room to learn and grow.
I thank my parents and siblings for sticking with it even when it seemed bleak and hopeless.
And I thank Goldey-Beacom, for the tools to aid in the fight for disability justice, and a community I will remember long after my departure.
And a special shout out to all the therapists, mentors, and coaches with disabilities who’ve helped me along the way.
Because if my past four years at Goldey-Beacom College have told me anything, it’s that there’s nothing about us without us. No journey is made alone, no path is paved without revision.
And to you, Dear Reader: thank you. For being another hand in the fight for disability rights everywhere.
Now, in honor of disability pride month, I wanted to share a poem of mine: Silence is Deafening.
It’s one of the first I’ve ever written, during a time when I was doubting my college experience and life at large; during a time where silence grew ever so bigger, stronger, and wiser.
It’s about the mind, and our awareness of its strengths, weaknesses, and quirks. We all have a mind, it’d be remiss of me if that weren’t true.
You may not find it remarkable, original, or fascinating, but perhaps that’s not the point. Like anyone with a mind, you’re free to your interpretation. Despite your label, you’re entitled to a unique way of life. Maybe that life doesn’t want to be like mine, but it cannot deny that I exist.
Neither of us can.
Because if silence has shown us anything, it’s that what exists past the noise is our world. I hope that I’ve made our world worth living in.
What you choose to do with your silence, is none of my business, but all of my concern. Please, let us share this moment of silence together.
“You don’t speak much, do you?”
My mind is my mouth. It utters on impulse. It whistles a familiar tune beneath sunshine.
My mind is my nose. Nostalgic escapades frequent my nostrils, while tragedies invade my sinuses.
My mind is my eye. It analyzes unfamiliar truth, balancing empathy with the system.
My mind is my hand. Its tactile inquiries ripened the wisdom.
My mind is my arm. Rise or fall, it extends the purpose.
My mind is my stomach. Feed me the nutrients you claim to present.
My mind is my back, a spineless experiencer I am not.
My mind is my foot, the connection between life and uncertainty.
To answer your question, yes, I do talk much. You might not hear a voice, but maybe it’s not meant for your ears.
My mind speaks 1000 words, each one holding more depth than the next.
My mind speaks 1000 words, each one rich in text. They complement each other in a dance of wit and will, none unarmed, but few intelligent enough to know their kill.
My mind speaks 1000 words, and your name is one of them. It may not be the most important one, but it’s there. Its impact can’t be undone.
It speaks on paper, near podiums, alone…
It speaks idiotically in a certain zone
It speaks with utmost ignorance, naivete blanketing
It speaks with genuine intrigue, silence representing
It speaks in sickness and health through bone and blood
It speaks when nobody’s looking, an authentic flood
A flood of concepts and ideals…preaches to platitudes; though I will not drown, no matter what my purpose exudes.
A mind is a voice. Listen to it occasionally.
Above all else, it describes you beautifully
-By Lavance J. John; June 25th, 2024
Happy disability pride month, everyone! And to all, a great summer!
Goldey-Beacom College is a Equal Opportunity Employer/Program. Auxiliary aids and services are available upon request to individuals with disabilities.
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