I was 29 years old when the Americans with Disabilities Act was signed into law. I was working in finance – only later in my career would I enter the non-profit sector – so at that time, I was largely unaware of its passing.
As a young child, I’d attended the Oregon School for the Blind, but from third grade on I attended public schools and had to muscle my way through. It was very sink or swim. This was even before the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), which made available a free appropriate public education to children with disabilities and ensured special education and related services.
It was only in the late 1990s that I fully began to realize the impact of the ADA. It was around 1997, and I was applying for a master’s degree in the not-for-profit leadership program at Seattle University. By this time, I’d gotten better at self-advocacy (something I wasn’t great at in my youth), and I had a conversation with the head of the program at the university. I let her know that I was interested in the program, but that I wouldn’t apply unless I could be assured that I could get all my materials in an accessible format.
They hired two work-study students to scan all the print stuff, and they acquired a braille embosser. I got everything I needed, in the format I needed it. I was initially taken aback at the level of accommodation, but I shouldn’t have been. This was simply an institution of higher education complying with the law – the Americans with Disabilities Act.
This was my “Aha” moment.
When many people think of the ADA, they tend to think about it in terms of physical spaces – for example, the way architectural spaces were redesigned for wheelchair users or people with mobility impairments. For people who are blind or low vision, it also brought about the proliferation of braille in public spaces, such as elevators and hotel room doors. But it’s more than that. In 1990, the current digital world was hardly envisioned, much less existing as it does today. But to be asked, “What is your preferred format?” is becoming part of the lexicon now, and prior to the ADA, it wasn’t.
In terms of what’s next, we need to clear up how the ADA fits in with digital spaces. It brings to mind last year's Supreme Court decision to let stand the accessibility ruling against Domino's, wherein a blind customer was unable to access their services, and the appellate court decided the ADA applied not only to physical environments, but digital environments. Moving forward, this is a vital aspect of the ADA’s protections to clarify and strengthen.
My appreciation of this landmark legislation has only deepened over the years. I now understand that the ADA is civil rights legislation, and it helps to complete the continuum of civil rights work that started decades ago, with Brown v. Board of Education, the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act, and other landmark bills. You can’t legislate morality, but the fact that advocates in our society were able to express themselves, and to sway public opinion and to shape public policy, is heartening and something to rejoice about. The fact that ADA declared that it is not legal to discriminate against someone because of their disability was a big and bold statement, and it brought people with disabilities into the conversation with other groups who’ve experienced systemic oppression.
The opportunity we now have is to look at the catalyst of the Black Lives Matter movement as it intersects with the 30th anniversary of the ADA – and consider how we bring together all these voices and concerns with civil rights with the understanding and dismantling of systemic barriers. We celebrate the 30th anniversary of the ADA, but we must keep our focus on continuing to dismantle the institutional oppression against all marginalized groups, and continue with the activism, the sacrifice, the blood, sweat, and tears.
Let’s build on that foundation.
