There is an idea about inclusion that I think needs to be examined. I also think the only people who can examine this are those who are out in the community working or participating in some way. Those who have been ‘included.’ More and more I believe that the end result of the movements towards community living and integration and inclusion should be evaluation by those who, firstly had no say in the development of the idea, and secondly, those who are at the mercy of other people’s good intentions. The disabled voice is an important voice and it’s the only one that can determine if what was done met their internal goals of belonging and feeling welcomed.
I went into a place where they had a man with a disability, both intellectual and physical, who was a ticket taker. When I came in, he spotted me and smiled, I couldn’t get my chair around an entrance barrier so he came over and undid a clip that would let me in another way. I thanked him, gave him my ticket, which he ripped, gave back, and said, smiling hugely, ‘you’re welcome.’
On our way out he spotted us heading to the exit door. He took a quick look around and saw that at that moment he wasn’t needed. I also noticed that the other staff in the area were all laughing and joking and he was seated quietly on the chair set up for him to sit on while taking tickets.
He came over and asked how I had enjoyed myself, keeping his eye on the door at all time, this guy took his job seriously. I told him that I had and he said that he was really glad. On his way back I said, “It’s hard being the only one sometimes isn’t it?” His eyes filled with tears and he nodded.
I understand that. I am often the only disabled person in a place. I feel, sometimes, so isolated and so alone that it takes my breath away. Seeing another disabled person, not even speaking to them, just seeing them, is a big deal. That alone reduces my sense of being alone.
I am glad he was there. I just hope that those who support him understand that the work isn’t done. He’s alone. Really alone. Yes, it’s a job. Yes, that’s wonderful. But he didn’t have a job like others in the same place the others that were laughing and talking and making work a social experience. He sat on the edge of exclusion while a number in a column somewhere would count him included … inclusion at work.
One is the loneliest number that there can ever be.
I doesn’t have to be.
But it often is. And all it means is that the first step has been taken, and many more are yet to follow.
