Tag: Disability

A day in the life

I was not surprised when I read in the Australian government budget papers this week that one Commissioner position at the Australian Human Rights Commission would be cut. The papers indicated that the measure would take effect from July this year, when one position became vacant. My term at the Commission ends on 4 July, so it is not difficult to conclude that the reference is to the position of Disability Discrimination Commissioner.

I was not surprised, but I was angry and profoundly sad. Because Australia clearly needs a full-time Disability Discrimination Commissioner, and it must be a person with a disability. We would not appoint a white person to the role of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Social Justice Commissioner. Nor should we appoint a person who does not have lived experience of disability, and an understanding of the disability sector, to this position.

Some people have asked me why we need a Disability Discrimination Commissioner. The statistics speak for themselves. 37 % of complaints lodged with the Commission – more than one third – relate to disability, and this figure has been constant since the passage of the Disability Discrimination Act. 45% of us live in poverty. We experience 30 % lower employment participation than the general population. Completion of Year 12 high school is at 50% for the general population, and 25 % for people with disabilities. A higher proportion of us are in prisons. We experience a higher level of domestic violence. By any measure we are significantly disadvantaged.

Let me tell you of just one day in the life of a Disability Discrimination Commissioner. It’s yesterday, and I woke in Darwin.

iPhone ever on hand, I checked Twitter for budget reaction and other news. As I took my guide dog for a walk, and grabbed coffee and a quick breakfast, I read more news articles. I read of the young people with disabilities, including some in my family, who will continue to be disadvantaged in education, and not be able to remain in regular schools, because the extra funding for kids with disabilities in the Gonski proposals had been cut.

Tears came to my eyes at the memory of the many stories I have heard from kids with disabilities bullied in school playgrounds, and the distraught parents I regularly talk to. What could I say to the parents of kids with disabilities with whom I am meeting this Sunday on the Sunshine Coast? Suck it up – there’s no more money? Of course not – I’ll strategise with them, and try to empower them to find a way.

My first meeting was with people from the National Aboriginal Justice Centre. They told me of the high proportion of Aboriginal people with disabilities in the prison system. They talked of people in prison like Rosie and Malcolm, who had not been convicted of a crime – they had been found “unfit to plead”, and prison was regarded as an acceptable accommodation option. We talked about justice diversion, and how people with disabilities would be better off supported by disability services in their communities. Corrections budgets would also be better off, as this would be a cheaper option.

I left seeing little hope of change, but admiring the passion and commitment to carry on in their work. I was able to provide some hope by noting the on-time and in-full rollout of the National Disability Insurance Scheme in the budget.

I then met with the NT Public Service Employment Commissioner. Unlike the Federal Government, who have a welfare plan in their budget, Craig has a jobs plan. He is committed to increasing the number of people with disabilities employed in the NT public service. In the federal system it is a shameful 2.9 %, and probably similar in the Territory. But he was happy to strategise about how this might change- using plans and targets, strong senior leadership, a link through Australian Network on Disability to other committed employers, and the establishment of peer support networks. I was encouraged- he has the will to create change.

I then spoke at the lunch with which the NT Law Society celebrate law week. I told many stories of how people with disabilities cannot access the criminal justice system- stories set out in the Equal Before The Law report. My speech, and this report, are both on the Commission website at http://www.humanrights.gov.au I encouraged the Territory to follow the example of South Australia, and develop a Disability Justice Strategy.

Following some quick TV interviews where I spoke of the need for a full-time Disability Discrimination Commissioner who has a disability, I met with the Chief Minister and Minister for Disability Services. I talked to them of the need for a diversity of services in the justice system, more jobs for people with disabilities, and the benefits to be gained from the rollout of the NDIS.

I then hurried back to my hotel, to catch up on the many emails, texts and tweets. I continued the planning for the delegation of young people with disabilities being sent to the meeting of countries who have ratified the Disability Convention in New York in June. I have not talked to a more excited bunch in a long time. It is a great way to develop leadership capacity in the disability sector.

I planned for my meetings next week with representatives of government to discuss the review of the Transport Standards. There has been progress getting people with disabilities “on the bus”, but recent experiences show us we still have a long way to go. Sam – who cannot bend his leg – was recently forced to stand for most of a Perth-Brisbane flight because staff would not let him have an appropriate seat. An international airline was prepared to carry Peter but not his wheelchair. And a Darwin taxi would not pick me up because I travel with a guide dog.

I communicated with Josh who has autism, very concerned about re-assessment of his Disability Support Pension, but no real jobs plan to move him off welfare. Jess was very pleased about the rollout of the NDIS, but worried that co-payments in the medical system for her ongoing health issues would eat away at her small income. I talked with Eliza, concerned about how the sector would now have a more muted voice, because the ABC Rampup site would not be funded by the government, and the ABC could not pick up the funding. And I heard from Sharon, who shared my views about the need for a full-time Disability Discrimination Commissioner, who has a disability, and who wonders what will happen to people like her when my term ends.

I also talked with people from government, about developing a jobs plan, and supporting employers to find jobs for people with disabilities through use of targets and financial incentives. I pointed out – as I have for several years – the waste and ineffectiveness of the current system.

And I talked to large and small private employers, and tried to encourage them to find jobs for people with disabilities. I strategised with Jocelyn at one major employer about setting targets, and planning how to achieve them. I thanked John for the fact that 50 % of his workforce of 20 people are people with disabilities. And I congratulated Dominique for ensuring that her online business had an accessible website.

I did this because my job is not just about throwing rocks. It’s about working co-operatively, with government and private sectors, as well as people with disabilities, to remove the barriers constituted by those rocks. When we have an accessible path of travel, people with disabilities will fully participate in, and contribute to, our community; and the Australian community will reap the benefit of that diversity and extra strength. Without a full-time Disability Discrimination Commissioner, who has a disability, the path will be that much rockier for that much longer.

Captain Grumpy

Ex-Australian cricket captain Alan Border and I have something in common. No, it’s not the inate cricket ability that he had and I dream about. It’s that, sometimes, just doing your job, or living your life, as a person with a disability, can make you grumpy.

I’m sitting in an airport gate lounge, my guide dog beside me, drinking coffee, looking at twitter, and waiting for my flight to board.
“Hi, I’m Shane,” says the ground staffer as he approaches me, “We’re ready to board you now.”

I think “Why would I want to stop what I’m doing, not finish my coffee, and exchange this spacious plastic chair for a cramped airline seat ten minutes earlier than anyone else. I say “I’m happy to board with the rest of the passengers, thanks.”

“But you’re a “special” passenger,” he says. “We want to give you more time for you and your dog to settle in.”

I think “that’s code for: we want you on and out of the way before all of the others.” I say “Thank you, I don’t need any extra time.”

“But this is a legal requirement,” he says.

I think “that’s code for: I’m now going to try to bully you.”
I say “It’s actually not, and I’m very happy hear til the flight boards, thanks Shane.”

He sighs loudly, and says “Ok, all right.” and goes away.
I think: “that’s code for: what a Captain Grumpy. And I was just trying to help.”

An hour or so later-
“Sir, we’re landing in Hobart today, and there is no aerobridge. So if you just wait til last, I’ve booked the forklift to take you off the plane.”

“But it’s just my eyes that don’t work, not my legs.” I reply.

“Well, I was just trying to help,” is the unhappy response.
“And I appreciate your help, but perhaps you should have checked with me first.”

For some blind people, this decision may have been necessary, or appreciated. Just as some people with disabilities may need or want to board first. But why not ask if that’s what we want, rather than just assume. Because of the soft bigotry of low expectations.

It happens all the time-
People who use wheelchairs are regularly discussed – in their presence – as if they were luggage.
People with disabilities travelling with family members or friends are often not talked to at all- even when the question is about them. “Can he walk down the plane aisle, or will he need the chair,” said to the friend of a man using a wheelchair.

My wife has been scolded on one flight for “allowing me” to use the “wrong” (business class) toilet.

People with disabilities are often made to wait for long periods of time. Periods of time which most customers would just not tolerate.

Why do these things happen? Because many people in the community, and thus the airline industry, have a negative or limiting view of the capability of people with disabilities. And the customer service training of airline staff – and many other service industries – on disability issues is just not adequate.

I’m very happy, at any time, for someone to offer me assistance. I’m not happy, at most times, to have the decision made for me. That’s the critical difference.

We’ll go this longer way because there’s a lift- you won’t be able to use stairs; Your dog won’t be able to go on the escalators;
Just wait here and we’ll get someone to push your wheelchair;
We want to give you special treatment, so we’re taking you onto the aircraft first, and leaving you to get off last.

When people just assume that women will interrupt their career to have children, or won’t be interested in a more senior role, women rightly get annoyed.
When people do not give job applicants with non-anglo names an interview, those applicants rightly get annoyed.
But when people assume that if you have a disability you won’t be able to do something, we’re just supposed to smile and say “thank you for patronising me.”

So, if I’m being Captain Grumpy, perhaps consider your assumptions, rather than my manners.

Graeme Innes is a disability advocate and cricket tragic, and does a fair imitation of an Alan Border media interview if negative assumptions are made about him as a result of his disability.

Doing Life

Dr Katharine Mallory has worked as a General Practitioner in Kalgoorlie and Perth Western Australia for more than twenty years. Much of this time she has worked in clinics providing health services to Aboriginal people.

Dr Mallory’s story was published in the Medical Forum WA last month, and I was prompted to write to the editor with my views of the story. Dr Mallory’s story is remarkable – in the true sense of the word – because she uses a wheelchair. She said that doctoring in general practise does not involve too many restrictions.
“The examination couch I work with is modified so that I can get my wheelchair under it, and get quite close to the patient,” she said.

My letter, setting out my views on Dr Mallory’s story, is below-

Dear Editor,

Most people’s response to Dr Katharine Mallory’s story [February edition] would be “amazing”, “inspiring”, “remarkable” etc. My reaction, as a lawyer who is blind, and as Australia’s Disability Discrimination Commissioner, is “what a great story about Katharine doing life.”

Someone once asked me if I was scared, as a person who cannot see, travelling the world on my own. “Sure I am,” I replied.
“Then why do you do it,” he said.
My response: “Because the alternative – not doing it – is much scarier.”

Whatever issues we face in life – marital or family problems, a lack of confidence in public speaking, disability etc – we still have a life to lead. You play the hand of cards you have been dealt, the best way you can. So I’m pleased, but not surprised, by Katharine’s story. Because for me it’s not about what’s missing – it’s about what’s there.

The biggest barrier that people with disabilities face in Australia is the attitude barrier – the way people limit us by assuming that there are things we cannot do. Of course I cannot drive a car, and Katharine can’t reach medical supplies down from a high shelf. But it doesn’t prevent me being a lawyer, nor her being a doctor.

Medical practices should be accessible for patients with disabilities, as should all other facilities in our communities. That’s why the Australian Human Rights Commission worked with the RACGP (Royal Australian College of General Practitioners) some years ago to have adjustable height couches mandatory in General Practices. Not only do they achieve better outcomes for patients with mobility disabilities, they also mean that doctors and nurses protect their backs, so it’s a win-win.

One in five Australians has a disability. So if we want a community which includes everyone then it needs to be an accessible community. I congratulate Medical Forum WA for running this story, and Katharine for “doing life.”

Graeme Innes,
Disability Discrimination Commissioner

My seat on the bus

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: It would be a jolly site harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.” Change according to CS Lewis.

Stephen Hawking also believes in change. He said “I have noticed even people who claim everything is pre-destined, and that we can do nothing to change it, look before they cross the road”.

And David Mamet, through the script of “Wag the Dog”, thinks change requires co-operation. “For progress to occur, it is necessary for two generations to agree”.

In my view, change is easy. It’s awareness, and willingness to change, that require effort.

Seven-year-old Duncan’s parents are worried. He’s about to be suspended from school.

Duncan and his family live just outside a regional town in Victoria, Australia. He catches the bus to school each day – the first stop on the route is right outside his house, so he gets the seat right behind the driver. He returns on the bus at the end of the school day. He’s doing all right at school, and getting on with friends.

But the school says he has been violent towards other children on the bus in the afternoons. Duncan (not his real name) has autism.

The school Principal is supportive of Duncan’s attendance, but the school has a strong anti-violence policy with which she must comply. She can only conclude that the school day is too tiring for Duncan.

Mum and Dad both work, so can’t pick him up, and Grandma – who minds him in the afternoons – doesn’t drive. Parents and teachers have talked to Duncan about the problem, but the reports of hitting and pinching keep coming. Suspension seems the only option.

Duncan’s mum has read about the Convention on the Rights of People with Disability, the Victorian Charter of Human Rights, and State and Federal disability discrimination legislation. She knows how much Duncan loves school, and wants to do everything she can. As a last resort, she talks to a Disability Rights Advocate.

The Advocate contacts the Principal, and details Duncan’s rights to education, and the need for the school to provide reasonable adjustment for Duncan. The Principal agrees that the Advocate can observe Duncan for a day at school before she imposes the suspension.

The Advocate sees that Duncan is happy on the way to school, and during school. The problem only occurs on the way home, when all of the kids rush onto the bus, and Duncan can’t sit in the front seat. So, with a small change to routine to let Duncan get on the bus first, and sit in the front seat, his education continues.

Have you seen situations where a small change can make a big difference? Comment below!

This story was obtained from the Victorian Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, and has been used by Disability Discrimination Commissioner Graeme Innes in a number of his speeches.

Graeme Innes thirsts for change, and is passionate in his belief that a successful sustainable society is a society which includes everyone.

White Cane Warrior

Kids can be hard to keep entertained on long summer holiday drives. Some parents resort to telling exaggerated stories of daring-do from their youth. It’s marginally better than I Spy or punch buggy (which consists of punching someone when you see a Volkswagen beetle).
One such story popped into my head as we stopped at the dog sitting on the tuckerbox five miles from Gundagai on our way to Melbourne recently. And I couldn’t resist re-telling it.
Part of my youth was spent as an activist in the disability movement, travelling around the country to various meetings and conferences. On one of these occasions, I was travelling back to Sydney from Wagga Wagga in a car full of my mates, and our various mobility aids – a couple of wheelchairs, a walking stick, and my own white cane. We decided – as you do – to stop for a hamburger at the dog on the tucker box café. (Please imagine at this point loud tuneless renditions of “the dog sat on the tucker box, and the protesting groans of eleven-year-olds).
We had found a table and ordered our hamburgers and milkshakes when a group of bikies arrived. Now, these weren’t bikers – that gruff, rugged bunch who look tough in their leathers and helmets, but underneath are just your average suburban boys with the need to bleed off a bit of extra testosterone. These were bikies – the sort who live outside the law, and communicate with grunts and rattles of the chains they wear around their necks. And their idea of fun that day was to harass the young woman managing the tucker box hamburger joint.
Now in those days I was a fighter for equality on the front line, not using the more conservative legal tools that I use today. And I was offended by the crass and sexist behaviour they were demonstrating. Their lewd suggestive comments, urged on by the support of their mates, were causing her a lot of discomfort.
But what could I do – one bloke with an aluminium white cane, whose pecs needed a lot more work, up against half a dozen tattooed gym-junkies with chains at the ready. So, I came up with a cunning plan.
They had parked their machines on either side of our car. So, borrowing the car keys from my mate in the wheelchair, I proceeded to walk to the car, white cane prominently on display, in full view of the marauding horde.
I tapped my way to the driver’s door, got in, started the engine and revved it a couple of times.
Balancing the opportunity to have some fun at the expense of the female hamburger operative, against the potential terminal damage to their prized modes of transport from my driving, the retreat was prompt and absolute. I’ve never known a group of motor bikes to leave more burned rubber in the car park of a hamburger joint.

Which just goes to show that brains can sometimes outwit brawn, and disability can have some advantages. At least, that’s the way I told the story to my kids.
Have you had to put up with a parent who thinks he tells a good yarn? Was I being brave or foolish? Tell me what you think.
Graeme Innes is Australia’s Disability Discrimination Commissioner, and an inveterate story-teller. He has kissed the Blarney stone and is prone on the odd occasion to leaven his stories with a small amount of exaggeration. An earlier version of this article was published in the Sydney Morning Herald.

Defining matters

I’m neutral on bumper stickers, I don’t hate them as the picture suggests. You can buy them from auto shops, or customise them from places such as http://www.ebay.com.au/bhp/bumper-stickers http://www.zazzle.com.au/bumperstickers http://www.cafepress.com.au/+bumper-stickers

I get the “baby on board” stickers – as a parent I’m strongly into protecting my child. I understand the “I shoot and I vote” sticker as a political statement- one with which I strongly disagree. And I am puzzled by the “Republicans for Voldemort” sticker found on a US bumper sticker site.

But I don’t get the idea of describing your family, and what is important to each of them, in a set of pictographs on the back of your car.

Variety is the spice of life http://www.thefreedictionary.com/variety+is+the+spice+of+life But for me they are like wearing budgie smugglers in public, keeping a snake as a pet, or eating raw fish- you go ahead and do that, but include me out.

Normally these stickers would not impinge much on my life. As someone who does not see, they are just like the blizzard of advertising billboards which fill blank spaces everywhere- I go through my life blissfully unaware of them.

However my wife Maureen, http://www.twitter.com/gizmoshelley bless her, has a wonderful nack of inserting the visual information I miss into our conversations. I really value this, because otherwise there is knowledge and awareness of society, pop culture, and our surroundings generally that I would just not have. Although a little less of the botanical explanations would be great please Darling.

My erudite wife doesn’t do it in a “here’s an announcement about something which would not have been a part of your life if I had not told you” kind of way. She just weaves it into the conversation, in the same way I might weave in something read in a newspaper. It’s just a natural part of the interaction and sharing which is one of the continuing strengths of our relationship.

Several weeks ago, Maureen commented on the family pictograph stickers on the car in front. “That’s a typical family,” she said. “The dad plays golf, the mum cooks, the son plays the guitar, oh, and the daughter uses a wheelchair.” She continued the conversation by remarking on the innate sexism in the story that was told- the dad is notable for what he clearly enjoys (playing golf) and the mum for one of her contributions to the family (working in the kitchen).

However, my mind went in an entirely different direction, and I was overwhelmed with sadness. My sadness related to the daughter.

Everyone else in the family was marked for what they enjoyed, or what they did. The daughter was marked for her disability.

One take on this might be that its good that the disability was out there and on display- not hidden away as it has been for many years. But that’s not my take.

My take is incredible sadness that the daughter herself, and-or the family who are probably her greatest supports, define her by her disability. The most important thing about her, the thing that they choose to put on public display on the bumper of their car, is not her violin playing, her love of One Direction or Justin Beeber, it is her disability.

What makes me even more sad is that this is a reflection of our society. As the 20% of us in Australia who have a disability http://www.abs.gov.au/disability-statistics – or perhaps the less than 20% who have a visible disability – go through our lives, this is usually the way we are defined. Not as Stella http://www.abc.net.au/rampup the witty and thought-provoking journalist, but as Stella who uses a wheelchair. Not as Ron http://www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_McCallum the professor of law, who is expert in industrial relations and chaired a UN committee, but as Ron who is blind. Not as Tim http://www.twitter.com/withtimferguson that really funny guy who was part of the Doug Anthony All Stars, http://www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doug_Anthony_All_Stars but as Tim who has MS.

These three, and many others, are doing a damn good job of breaking down that stereotype. But its still true that the biggest barrier Australians with disabilities face is the attitude barrier.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not proposing that we go back to the bad old days – still current for some – of hiding disability by locking people away in bedrooms or institutions. Disability is part of us, and needs to be included within our diverse Australian community. But it should not define us.

I continue to strive for a time when – if we pull up behind that car again, and if my wonderful wife shares her view of that part of the world with me – the daughter, too, will be living the dream rather than defined by a small part of the reality.

Should disability define us? Is society right to refer to our disability first? Tell me your thoughts.

Graeme Innes is Australia’s Disability Discrimination Commissioner, and is occasionally known to rant about issues brought up in casual conversations. His utter lack of knowledge and interest on matters botanical is an occasionally appearing cloud in the otherwise sunny skies of his marriage to Maureen.