I am White, non-binary, neuroqueer, and disabled.

I believe it is crucial to be transparent as soon as possible about my positionality (where relevant) when discussing intersectional issues related to disability (and always starting with Whiteness to highlight how my White privilege directly and deleteriously impacts the other [already-marginalized] communities i identify with).

Whiteness’ vague definition, which has been (and still is) debated throughout history, is insidious in the way it de-identifies it-self with race and affords White people the privilege of being able to ignore their Whiteness (as an identity, in addition to Whiteness as a concept).

Case-in-point, i my-self didn’t learn about the history, complexity, and vaguery (or, hence, the whole concept) of Whiteness until i was an adult and in higher education.

As i have recently begun to identify as autistic (or “come aut“, which is something else i would like to write on further in the future) and to read some of the diverse perspectives from within the world-wide community of autists, i have learned that autism cannot be separated from disability. I hadn’t given that distinction enough (or any) thought, evidently.

In all honesty, the initial thought of identifying as a White, disabled autist (as opposed to a White autist), considering my numerous bodily privileges, terrified me.

It reminded me of the feeling i got when i first knew i was queer (in regards to both gender and sexuality). Having previously identified as a cis-het man, it felt problematic for me to appropriate an identity that my previous one oppressed, and oppresses.

After several conversations with queer friends and family (and some internet exploration), i learned about several concrete examples of the disproportionate marginalization of queer (and disabled) People of Color compared to White queer people like my-self.

Intersectionality made me realize that no matter how much i try to guilt my-self into identities that don’t fit (i.e. a cis-het man) for fear of appropriation, i will still not out-run my privileges.

I now identify as a non-binary queer person (or more specifically [and recently], neuroqueer), and i do my best to consistently center more-marginalized queer voices (e.g. queer Native People, queer People of Color, queer wheelchair-users, etc.) over my own; learn about and address my privileges as a White, able-bodied person; and challenge society’s understanding of what it means to be (neuro)queer.

Returning to the topic of disability, then, the awareness of my bodily privileges (e.g. White, able-bodied, verbal-communicator, frequent eye contact-maker, non-wheelchair-user, etc.) made me sensitive to the idea that i might be benefiting from (and upholding) ableist and White supremacist structures that exist within the world-wide community of disabled people.

Before wielding my privileges (as a White autistic person) to self-identify as disabled, i wanted to understand the implications of such a significant consideration.

I began my research by seeking perspectives on the subtle-yet-key differences between autism and intellectual disability (as diagnostic labels). Turns out, many of the differences are race- and ability-based.

Studies have demonstrated that intellectually disabled people, when compared with autistic people, grapple with low housing/employment access and social exclusion at much greater rates.

Additionally, i learned that disabled People of Color (femme-presenting disabled POC, in particular) experience both under- and mis-diagnosis more-often than White, masc-presenting disabled people.

This told me that, being multiply-marginalized by (1) gender; (2) higher rates of misdiagnosis; and (3) the unique repercussions that accompany misdiagnosis (outlined in the stanza above); disabled People of Color experience compounding barriers that are directly-upheld by institutions of ableism and White supremacy, from which i benefit.

White autists also have greater access to diagnoses than Autists of Color and, thus, greater access to legal accommodations.

Going even further, disabled People of Color experience disproportionately greater rates of medical abuse (compared to White disabled people) when seeking support from doctors (likely [in my opinion] due to the ridiculously low rate of Doctors of Color in the U.S., Women in particular)

After learning about these disproportionate impacts from ableism and White supremacy on disabled Communities of Color, i recalled a vague memory of hearing about #DisabilityTooWhite (coined in 2016 by Vilissa K. Thompson, a Black; disabled; licensed macro-level social-worker who advocates for disabled Women of Color and educates people [from individuals to organizations] on the oppression of disabled WOC using an intersectional framework).

To this disabled social-worker-in-training, Vilissa is a frickin’ inspiration.

Her hashtag/movement captivated me instantly as i considered what i could learn from it specifically around Whiteness’ influence and impact on Communities of Color within the contemporary disability movement. One of the first things i learned is that by 2017, a year after Vilissa coined the viral #DisabilityTooWhite, there was still much work for White disabled people to do in confronting the current and historical White-washing of disability.

Vilissa, in another 2017 interview, made salient the need for White disabled people to acknowledge both their race- and ability-based privileges not afforded to others, as well as to learn what it means to be a real ally to disabled people, to “walk that fine line” between being involved in the movement while also stepping back and magnifying multiply-marginalized voices.

Toward the end of that same interview, when asked about her vision for the future of #DisabilityTooWhite, Vilissa communicated her wishes for (among other specifics) the continuation of the conversation her hashtag has catalyzed and an acknowledgment from White people that the burden of education is on them, not Communities of Color (in other words, that White people be actual allies/co-conspirators with disabled COC).

While i have not personally been able to locate any articles analyzing the concrete impacts of #DisabilityTooWhite published after 2018, i did find one 2020 article in the journal Disability Studies Quarterly which analyzes the effectiveness and successes of older, similar hashtags (e.g. #BlackLivesMatter) as an argument for #DisabilityTooWhite’s potential for success going forward.

Regardless of the (seeming) lack of analyses surrounding the impacts of #DisabilityTooWhite to-date, it is (anecdotally) evident that hashtags can sow the seeds of very real social change. Indeed, a cursory review of Twitter’s #DisabilityTooWhite search results revealed to me that the exact conversation i am referring to, that of the White-washing of disability and a lack of action specifically from White autists, is taking place as recently as one day ago.

(As an aside, i hate Twitter and all other mainstream social media platforms, and i don’t use them, but apparently this is causing me to miss out on some vital information. I never thought i would actually re-consider using social media lol.)

Four years after Vilissa Thompson coined #DisabilityTooWhite, while it is an absolutely beautiful and celebration-worthy feat to have this conversation continuing to bubble after so long, it is also clear by dint of such activity that disability representation in 2020 is still too White.

I understand that time is relative and that progress is (relatively and historically) slow, but four years seems too long (to me) after a viral hashtag for us to not yet be witnessing the legitimate, diverse representation of disabled People of Color the world has deserved this entire time.

This is by no means a criticism of #DisabilityTooWhite, if it sounds like one! I am just frustrated by and fed-up with witnessing the valiant efforts of People of Color being met with criticisms and systemic-barrier-after-barrier that get in the way of necessary social change, when us White people could be contributing so much more than we are.

Having my-self learned heaps already from skimming the surface of Vilissa’s hashtag and the dialogues it has catalyzed, i truly believe in #DisabilityTooWhite’s potential, and i am invested now in continuing to learn how i can use my privileges as a White disabled person to contribute more to the decolonization of disability.

Part of that contribution, it seems to me, is to acknowledge our (i.e. White people) feelings around the persistence of Whiteness’ colonization of disability and channel that into privilege-based action with the intention of enacting change whilst stepping back and supporting the centering of more-marginalized perspectives within the community of disabled people.

I like being autistic, and i am proud to acknowledge my disability. I will not stay silent or feel satisfied, however, until every disabled person is treated equitably for exercising their birth-right: for celebrating who they are.

❁

Thoughts? Leave a comment; start a conversation! Thank you for reading.