As Talila “TL” Lewis defines it, ableism is a “system of assigning value to people's bodies and minds based on societally constructed ideas of normalcy, productivity, desirability, intelligence, excellence, and fitness. These constructed ideas are deeply rooted in eugenics, anti-Blackness, misogyny, colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism.”
Ableism and anti-Blackness in particular are “formed and informed” by each other, which is an especially painful reality for disabled Black women and femmes. But just as anti-Blackness harms non-Black people, people without disabilities are oppressed by ableism too.
As many of us contend with white supremacy, racial capitalism, and cisheteronormative patriarchy in our daily lives, we must also confront ableism’s central role in upholding our generational oppression. As radical as it’s made to seem, much of the progressive/leftist movement struggles with acknowledging, let alone addressing, this life-taking issue, which is why I called up Vilissa Thompson (she/her). She’s the creator of the #DisabilityTooWhite hashtag and is someone who personally understands the plight of Black disabled women and people in life and at work.
Key Takeaways and Contradictions:
Disabled or not, ableism costs each and every one of us a lot, and we will not be free without centering disability justice in our everyday perspectives, choices, and actions.
Toxic individualism is killing us — literally — and holds us back as movement dreamers and builders.
Each of our bodyminds are a shared responsibility.
“No state will save us,” writes Estelle Ellison. “Our relationships will, or we simply will not make it through this historical period alive.”
When Black disabled life is seen and treated as precious, we can one day cultivate “social systems rooted in an ethic of community care, interdependence, and collective freedom.”
Kendra: Ruth Wilson Gilmore teaches us that “we can make freedom out of what we have — not by yielding or sacrificing some of our comrades — but by trying to live the principle [that] where life is precious, life is precious.” For me, this speaks to mutual care as our society's most important responsibility and challenge. What does this perspective affirm for you? And how do you maintain your preciousness in an ableist society?
Vilissa: Ironically, one of my pieces was released today, which talks about our hatred for children in this country. And so that quote made me think about that — how we have a disdain for our most vulnerable members of society who may require a lot of care and attention.
We live in a society that has the bootstraps mentality; this idea that everybody should fend for themselves. We’re really individualistic when it should be about community. Now that we're approaching year three of the pandemic, that community care is still missing — when we all need it at the forefront.
Ruth’s quote is a reminder for me of that truth. It’s very profound as to what we value and uphold as precious and deserving and what — or who — we don’t.
Kendra: Yes, this pandemic really exacerbated that toxic individualism when I think we’d hoped it would have brought us more together. A lot of people have reverted to their own misconceptions and fears, but that's what happens when you have a government that abandons you for the sake of the stock market. There’s a ripple effect.
As a disability rights consultant, writer, and activist, how do you define ableism?
Vilissa: I always say that it's the social prejudice against disabled people. That prejudice then manifests into discriminatory, systemic actions that prevent folks from being able to participate in society.
Ableism is so sneaky because it exists in the fabric of the way that we as a society engage with each other, whether it's between workers and employers, through our attitudes — both individual and shared — about who's different, or how people navigate the world around them.
“Ableism is dangerous too because it’s so commonplace, which is the result of our own ignorance about it. “
Ableism is dangerous too because it’s so commonplace, which is the result of our own ignorance about it. That’s why I try to connect it with those everyday occurrences. I’m a wheelchair user, for example, and while I’m out minding my own business, someone will come up behind me and start pushing my wheelchair. Whether they know it or not, they’re deeming me as someone who's pitiful and in need of help. They’re also unaware that touching my wheelchair — or other mobility tools like a cane, crutch, or walker — is a violation because this wheelchair is an extension of my body; it isn't just a tool.
Kendra: Ableism is so entrenched in everyone and everything that we really have to excavate it. I always say no one is above white supremacy, and this is the same. Why are ableism and white supremacy so inseparable? What's your take, and what do we need to do about it?
Vilissa: Well it's very hard to separate the two when you look at the conception of this country, especially when we look at the lives of enslaved disabled people. If you were disabled, you were sorted into typically one of two categories: you were either viewed as useless or enslavers found a means to exploit your disabled body for profit. There are countless stories, particularly of Black disabled children being sold off into exhibits and their enslaved mothers having to fight to get them back.
“There are countless stories, particularly of Black disabled children being sold off into exhibits and their enslaved mothers having to fight to get them back.”
Ableism and white supremacy have been embedded together for forever, so no one should be surprised at how hard it is to separate the two, particularly when we factor in marginalized identities that are impacted by both of these cruel realities.
The thing that many of us — who are Black and disabled — say is that there is no safe haven for us. Even within [progressive] spaces that are supposed to be safe. Racism and misogynoir exist within the disability community; people fail to realize that white disabled people can be racist, and non-Black disabled people can be anti-Black.
And that is the reality for many of us, because we have to combat ableism in one space and white supremacy and misogyny in another. For anyone not to see how both of these are connected is them not being honest about what is really going on for many of us in this society.
Kendra: And there is that compounded oppression. Black disabled women are really at the center of all of the oppression and harm, which is why we should be at the center of building solutions for liberation and healing. We have the most experience — and we have the most answers.
Black disabled women are really at the center of all of the oppression and harm, which is why we should be at the center of building solutions for liberation and healing.
Vilissa: Yes. Also, for me, I identify as a disabled womanist because I feel that womanism allows for that diversity of our full experiences to exist. Because we do understand that we are engaging in this society from multiple lenses versus everyone else. When we look at feminism, it’s had a history of ignoring Black women in general and specific issues like disability as well.
Kendra: Do you find yourself sitting with a lot of resentment? I know I do. Since the 2020 uprisings, it's almost as if people in power are congratulating themselves for acknowledging white supremacy, and yet they willfully ignore ableism.
Vilissa: Yes, it’s very superficial because people want to look like the good guy. They act like they care when they know they aren’t going to do anything. Since the uprisings, white people in particular have supposedly read all these books and articles and watched all these films about the Black experience, but what do we have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Actually, what we got is this [renewed] resistance to anything Black, including these policymakers who are trying to get Black studies out of the schools.
To keep it real, white people care about appearances. That’s huge in their culture. And they're not willing to be uncomfortable. The white folks who genuinely cared are a handful, an incredibly small minority, but the rest of them just wanted to look like they were progressive — and you can't just look progressive. That’s not enough.
Kendra: You gotta be about it. I mean connecting back to the preciousness of life, the initial response to Covid and now this “mass forgetting” have made who we, as a society, care about and who we don’t very explicit. So many people are struggling, in deep harm, and literally dying because they’re seen as disposable or forgettable.
Vilissa: Exactly. When it comes to long Covid, folks realized that the “safety net” we’re supposed to have is basically useless. Ignorance is bliss, right? But people have been screaming about the broken systems of this country for forever, and still no one cares until they have to use these systems. And then they’re like, “Oh, shit.”
There’s a growing realization that if you become disabled in this country, you are on your own. Literally on. your. own. And for people who have never had to see themselves as forgettable and disposable, that is a hard reality to face.
Kendra: I know you work with a lot of nonprofits, and I know I’ve personally witnessed and experienced what is a huge cognitive dissonance problem. We’ve got groups preaching about social and economic justice one day and then hosting a conference with absolutely no safety or accessibility requirements the next.
When we talk about the progressive movement, what needs to happen for us to actually start to dismantle ableism?
Vilissa: The wildest thing about progressive spaces, particularly those that do grassroots work such as protests, is you are engaging in moments that can either create a disability and/or exacerbate an existing disability that somebody has. That fact alone really shows me how deeply rooted the distancing of disability is within progressive work.
You cannot be a Black progressive and think about the Civil Rights Movement and see folks getting their heads bashed in and not understand that there is most likely a [resulting] connection to disability in some way, shape, or form. Particularly when we are still getting our heads bashed in today. I think that our progressive spaces are doing disabled folks a tremendous disservice. Because they do exclude disability from their work, but you cannot talk about any political or social issue without having a disability lens.
Honestly, the distancing of disability within progressive work and the rampant ableism that exists are shameful. Every progressive movement should be ashamed that they are ignorant about disability injustice and that they aren’t combating it. And that’s from everyday ableism to specific failures like not providing adequate support and services to people who, at times, put their very bodies on the line in the name of progress.
They have a lot of work to do. And they also need to be held responsible and accountable for what they haven't done and for the harm that they have allowed to exist in their spaces. And if I’m gonna be frank, we need to talk about the erasure of disabled leadership as well. It shouldn't have taken me becoming an activist to learn about Brad Lomax who was a disabled Black Panther.
Kendra: Are there any parting words you have to say on why Black Women Know Best? Is there anything else, personal or cultural, that you wanna lift?
Vilissa: If there are Black disabled women and femmes reading this, please know that you are loved and appreciated. You have value. And you are not alone.
When we go through these experiences, we feel so isolated. So when there’s somebody out there who understands who you are, what you’re going through, and how you navigate this world, it’s affirming. So whatever you’re holding that’s not yours, you can start releasing.
Finally, learning about disability history, Black disability history especially, is a charge that we are all responsible for. And it’s something that we all can engage with at any time.
Take Action Today:
Donate to mutual-aid campaigns.
Check out these resources from Vilissa’s suggested-reading list:
Black Disability Politics by Dr. Sami Schalk
Disability Visibility Project by Alice Wong
Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
Affirm the Black disabled women in your life today.
Like what you read? Buy me a coffee ☻ and follow Vilissa on Twitter.