Disability, Solidarity, and What Community Looks Like

I’ve got cerebral palsy.

You get it when you’re born. My hands shake, my body does weird things, I sweat and drool too much, I live my life in chronic pain, on a bunch of meds, and more meds to control the side effects. And I have (thank you), a wonderful, productive and purposeful life. I’m married, with a six month old. I have a doctoral degree. And the same shaky and unsure guy who wore 90’s flouro and an “I love Jesus” t-shirt on my first day at UC in 2002 is now, 24 years later, a Disability and UC Chaplain, a priest, and writing this. Still love Jesus. I’ve stopped calling things “rad” and wearing flouro.

I had no idea that I would go through so many difficulties and trials then: hospital, corrective surgery, physical rehab and physio; energy drain and pain. And I had no idea how key UC would be in forming me, and my sense of how wonderful and purposeful my life could be.

In my experience, and that of many disabled people I accompany, compassion, solidarity, community and the kindness of others make a huge difference. Pain is a team sport. I relied (and rely) on the solidarity of others in order to live my life. I learned this at UC, after my first (of several) corrective surgeries: my lecturers made space for me, the Disability Support Service (as it then was) gave me extra time and help, my lab demonstrators set up make-up labs and experiments for me, and ordinary UC students (mostly strangers) helped me in death-or-glory dashes across roads, getting up curbs and down ramps, and in finding where the hell the toilet was anyway. I still remember the horror I felt coming into the disabled lift in 2003 at the base of James Hight and seeing the sign “Wheelchair Toilets Levels 3 and 7”. I was busting, and not in the mood for barriers! I still remember with affection the librarian who hustled me where I needed to be.

Source: Pexels

I am happy (although unsurprised) to find, 20 years later, the same hospitality and kindness in ordinary students, vastly improved toilet provision (thank GOD), the same general awesomeness in our Student Accessibility Team (they’re great with a capital G), and still, more broadly, some of the same barriers and needs in our physical spaces, and in our society as a whole. It’s amazing what a comment, a curb or a stair or a lift out of order can do! I can’t escape the medical stuff. But my experience as a disabled person, and ours as disabled students and staff, can be changed by the responsiveness of our systems, the kindness of our community, and the willingness of staff, lecturers and disabled people ourselves, to make space, be brave, step up and give it a go. I am forever grateful to the staff of our English Department who did that for me in 2005; to the academics who made sure I had what I needed, the support staff who went out of their way, the students who helped. Christians believe that none of us is saved alone: that

we’re created for hospitality, community and to depend on, and belong to each other. If our University communities as a whole live our values, lean in to hospitality, and move around some barriers, we might find some stuff. We might find disabled people can do it after all; that our lived experience is valuable. We might find in adapting that new creativity and synergy occur. And we might find in the kindness of strangers the solidarity we need to get up again tomorrow, and do it all again.

Of course, UC Chaplaincy was a key pillar for me as an undergrad: I drew great strength from the Chaplains, and your Chaplaincy team is here for you, as are our neighbours at SAS, our friends at Student Care and Equity, and other support services. But in the end, the experience of community disabled people get depends on you: fellow students and staff. Reach out. Offer help. Go the extra mile. You might find something surprising, and wonderful: a person with stuff to offer. Someone did that for me. Please, go and do likewise.