The definition of disability has changed over time, it is a political metaphor, and the language of politics changes as we learn, or at least so we hope. Sands shift.

The current political definition of disability is a mental or physical anomaly that varies from the social norm. Actually, that has always been the definition, it is just that no one recognized it as a metaphor to be interpreted. All language is metaphor, and to appreciate the meaning of any particular word, one must first understand its author.

Let's begin with one of the simplest and least understood metaphors, "we". The word "we" has no definition until one knows who is uttering it. It's most recognizable use in American history is "We hold these truths to be self-evident…", followed by a list of self-evident truths that apply exclusively to the consensus of the "we", those truths that apply only to the assembled "we".

Oddly none of these truths belonged "self-evidently" to anyone not a part of that "we", and even more oddly, in spite of intent, those words did not direct, hold back, this republic, for as people struggled over time, the word "we" began to include more and more. Overriding the intention of the writers, the framers, of this republic, the interpretation of their metaphors grew as the republic grew.

With the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, the interpretation of the "we" changed one more time:

When being male was the social and legal norm, not being so was a disability. When being white was the social and legal norm, not being so was a disability. And when one was both not male, and not white, and for each time another label was added, and we are a society of labels each imposed to limit the "we", the political consequences of each added disability increase exponentially.

We are struggling to recover from those political definitions, and we have a very long way to go, for we are not particularly adept at recognizing fault and dealing with it.

The most onerous part of the label, disability, and it is merely that, a label, is to be defined by it, devalued by it, dis-empowered by it, ignored, defiled, abused. We, each of us, want to be recognized for our ability, and yet we build a political system that instead requires that we recognize people for their dis-ability, orders people be so recognized and structures laws to enforce the definition persistently and redundantly.

So, in speaking to a group of people in the profession of library science, I would ask of you, each of you individually, "Stop."

No matter what this society may wish, may claim to require of you, stop defining any people by an absence of ability and instead focus on its presence, for ability is surely there.

I am one of those people who, if I do not disclose my particular dis-abilities, you are not likely to note them. We have that in common, each of you, and I. Well largely we do, but not entirely, because with the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act and universities' changing policies, I am sure there are people in this audience who would not have to disclose a particular "dis"-ability, it is visibly clear. A crutch, a wheeled chair, a white cane. A service animal. There are more of us than ever before. Politics changes, FDR‘s wicker wheeled chair is now on display, though during his lifetime the conspiracy to hide his disability deprived us all of a role model teaching just how little one disability can affect ability. We learn from each such experience, but seldom enough, and always over greater amounts of time than are necessary if we could just realize the extent of the power of negative political definition to harm us all.

I would like to bring your attention to one metaphor I now regularly employ, "wheeled chair". There are now so many versions of wheeled vehicles, I prefer its sound. Have you ever listened to the music of language?

We learn one label at a time, sometimes only one person at a time, and often do not apply the lesson beyond that label until forced to do so. Joe Louis' victory over Max Schmeling changed the prejudiced minds of very few people, as widely heralded as it was. Although we can store information- and the reference librarians in the audience know well how broad that storage capability is, we do not seem to put knowledge into practice with the same ease we can store and retrieve it.

For example, how many of you realize that under one current definition of disability, many people must accept a label before they enter the doors of a library? That each time, each and every day they come to the library, they must face that label? And in some instances both inside and outside the library? I would ask of each of you individually, "Do what you can to stop it," and I am ashamed of my own political rhetoric. Do not do what you can, "Stop."

First, the parking space is not disabled, that is a political construct. Were it disabled, it would be roped off, some engineer or other would be called and a workgroup would be called to fix it. (Did you note that clever circumlocution to avoid a male pronoun?)

We become so inured to government jargon, we begin quite literally not to see it. There is even a term for this not noticing, "negative hallucination", not seeing something that is right there. Negative hallucination is a major part of discrimination. We could not see the equality of women. We could not see the equality of people of color, of indigenous Americans, and for many of us the hallucination remains.

The parking area is not disabled, it is accessible to people with mobility issues, people who must by law label themselves , for the law requires they carry the label, "disabled", and even forces people to put that label on their windshield! They must even apply to be labeled. People who cannot walk, or can only walk short distances, or use some device instead of walking, and so need more space to enter and exit their vehicle the law insists are "disabled". Worse, many people carry the label for so long, they actually believe it. Advocate it.

The bathrooms are not disabled, either. Imagine the to do if they were! Having wielded a plumber's friend more than once in my life, it is a job I do not relish. If your signage labels, take it down. The international symbols are sufficient, if even they are not without prejudice.

My journey from the parking lot to the library, my daily Odyssey, has already separated me from the majority of the "able", and I have not even approached the building, tried to enter, or attempted to check something out yet.

And now I face the architect, who may or may not have any consideration for me, though the law requires architects must. Fortunately most libraries are working to comply- please note the metaphor of force- with accessibility issues. How good you were with the architect, how well you planned, how many voices you included to advise you on disability issues will now be tested. Just who was the "we" involved.

There are many people with degrees claiming to know my needs, claiming to represent me. And on very many occasions those people see themselves as so knowledgeable they do not need our voice, they meet, and we sit outside. Do not let their ignorance be your folly. We self-represent, or no representation exists.

I am going to repeat that, people self-represent or no representation exists. You may recognize the slogan, for it was uttered by a "we" long ago, a "we" with a very selfish agenda that grew into a far less selfish one, "Taxation without representation is tyranny". Governing without self-representation is exactly that, so, people with disabilities self- represent or no representation exists. Equity only exists in self-representation. Access only exists in self-representation.

What accommodations you will make when necessary, including self-representation, will depend on just how sensitive you are. How sensitive the university granting your degree is, and although many universities now have offices of disability services, few have any understanding of disability, few have any greater sensitivity than the general society, nor should anyone expect they would. Universities tend, in fact, to be behind progress already achieved outside their walls, up to three years according to one source at USF, so a great deal depends on you. The person you are.

Know the power of one. One unwitting librarian helped one young man read all he could, without knowing it. Each time he came to the library, which was totally inaccessible to him, so great was his legally imposed disability, that he was forced to present a card to the librarian, and with that simple, handwritten, accommodation, the librarian opened the closed world.

He carried a note, a particularly degrading, humiliating note, just to be able to read. A mentor wrote the note for him, using the vernacular of the time, and the librarian opened the gates. The note basically stated that "This black boy is picking up books for me," though the writer dared not employ the word "black". We all need mentors like that , people who know how to use language to open doors, but how much better it would be that the doors be no longer legally closed by any particular irrationality.

OK, I am in the building. Now what. There was no curb to manage, the door opened automatically, there are no steps, no physical impediments to my entrance. Wow! Not too many years ago someone would have argued I could be carried in if there were no other way for me to enter. In fact, at this moment the Supreme Court is hearing a case of a man from Tennessee who had to crawl up the stairs to a courtroom because it was inaccessible. When he refused to do so a second time, the judge cited him for contempt! No, judges are no more intelligent than the rest of society, and some are particularly stupid. "Judge" is a label, not a competence.

And now we now meet. You and I. Two responsibilities meet, yours and mine. I must be open with you about my needs, and you must be open as well. Should I run into any difficulty, I must ask for an accommodation, or- you will be wise enough to see the need and reach that conclusion before I do. Either way, we have reached a point of partnership. We will be working together.

How do I know to whom to reach out? Oh yes, I choose. Everyone chooses. Usually I will go by a physical _expression. Someone's eyes meet mine, someone else's do not. Whom would you choose? Me, too. I have never interacted with a blind librarian, but my hope would be that that person would note my presence and speak before I did. Or simultaneously. I wonder what it is like for someone who uses a wheelchair to encounter a librarian who does? Or, "I am blind, too, how can I help you?"

Just seeing someone who is on some level a peer is encouraging. We know people learn empowerment through observing empowered role models, yet we rarely provide them until law imposes its will.

The whole purpose of Jackie Robinson entering baseball was to provide America with a role model, so we know it works. His ability did not increase the day he first stepped up to the plate for the Brooklyn Dodgers. He modeled a behavior, and even those people vehemently opposed to his presence changed. Through publicly modeling a behavior, Branch Rickey caused other people to accept.

Do you accept? How integrated is your library, and if not enough , why not? And if not professionally, is it integrated on other levels so role models are visible? Until you can integrate on more professional levels, and you must begin consciously pursuing that goal, I need to see me in your building for it to become mine. Contact the local independent living center, I am sure there are other organizations as well, but begin.

Be prepared for incidents. Something will go wrong, be prepared to handle it. I responded to a library article by a librarian who disliked intensely that people who had once been held in mental institutions were now coming into the library. We were dirty, unkempt, we smelled, we upset her day with outbursts that seemed to come from nowhere. She wanted to know how could she prevent us from coming inside. Perhaps, for her, we needed to carry that handwritten note I mentioned earlier.

You now know my disability.

The one location in a mental institution where there is a semblance of normality is the library. I will never forget the institution librarian who told me I could only check out two books at a time. There was little to do in that warehouse but read, and two books was hardly enough. Policy. I worked in another in Chattahoochee, Florida, where the library was off limits to all but staff, and books were stacked to the ceiling, and unused. A dank, dark and dirty space.

That was in the 70's, and times have changed, many of the institutions are now thankfully dead, but a few hold on, and that particular library underwent reform when a woman named Kathy Mayo faced off with the past and brought that library into full use.

There are many more of us integrated into communities your libraries serve. So learn to accept us. The rules you apply to other people apply to us, but it is not a crime to smell. It is not a crime to be unkempt. And for many people who are also homeless, there is no place to get clean, no way to stay clean.

Can people learn not to scream out loud in the library. Yes. It may take some a bit of time, but everyone can learn. Add a homeless person to an advisory committee, or as a volunteer. You might just find a gem.

And a friend.

Just what is the myth of disability? As children we all learned stories, saw illustrations, and we learned a lesson we carry into our entire lives, that the wicked witch was both wicked in appearance and in mind, that the giant and the ogre were both wicked in appearance and in mind, and that good was always beautiful, and that terrible myth decides far too many of our relationships. You have a myth in your mind of disability, and it is firmly placed there, as were many other stereotypes, those of African Americans, those of women, and those myths will be exploited so long as any of us chooses to do so. The book is not its cover, whatever you have learned about people, without turning the page, without reading the line, without knowing the character, you retain the myth painted in your memory, and you will miss the knowing that comes with the simple act of reading character, before deciding it.

And now I leave your library, and you have one more chance to reach me. Occasionally ask me how things went. Did I find what I was looking for, are there improvements you could make? Smile. Mean it.