Showing posts with label Daily Californian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daily Californian. Show all posts

The Social Dilemma


 Review of Netflix documentary - "The Social Dilemma" 

“There are only two industries that call their customers users: illegal drugs and software.” 

"...an important message in the documentary is that the increasing polarization and acrimony of today is in part due to technology. Because everyone sees a different news feed that is reinforcing and cementing their beliefs, it can confuse them into thinking “fake news” is real. 

 At the same time, the documentary appears to claim that it’s not the fault of the AI, as AI does not make value judgments; rather, the system itself is biased toward false information as it inherently makes more money, meaning that such technology could well be exploited for the wrong purposes. "

 https://www.dailycal.org/2020/09/29/the-social-dilemma-sheds-light-on-utopian-tech-worlds-dystopian-underbelly/

 


 

Superfest Film Shorts

https://www.dailycal.org/2020/07/24/superfest-film-shorts-panel-examine-increasing-visibility-of-disability-in-mainstream-film/

My article in the Daily Cal on SuperFest's film shorts screening event, and discussion on the increasing visibility of disability in mainstream cinema.


Title: Superfest film shorts, panel examine increasing visibility of disability in mainstream film

Superfest, the world’s longest disability film festival, continued its ADA-30 celebration with Disability Pride Philadelphia by screening film shorts that provide a no-holds-barred glimpse into the diversity of disability.The screening on July 10 was followed by a panel discussion of the films’ impact in the current landscape and the growing momentum of disability visibility in mainstream film.

Now celebrating 20 years, the first film short, “Disability Culture Rap,” was the creation of the late Cheryl Marie Wade, a cultural arts poet performer, disability rights activist and UC Berkeley alumna. Even as the powerful words of the lilting rap sweeps the audience through the disability rights movement — of which many campus alumni have played a huge role — a diverse range of disability voices unapologetically enlighten the audience on disability culture: “It's about who we are...Its about power...it's about freedom!!”

As panelist Lawrence Carter-Long remarked, most media around disability seems to beg to be included and accepted, but “Disability Culture Rap” gets in the audience’s face and demands that they see “disability on disability’s own terms.” Carter-Long is the current communications director at the Berkeley-based Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund and heads their Disability and Media Alliance Project.

The 2016 short, “The Barber of Augusta,” is about a young man who had been diagnosed with ADHD and conduct disorder. Still, he finds his way to connect: he wears a superhero costume and harnesses his superpower of cutting hair, particularly for the homeless, on the streets of Toronto at night.

The avant-garde 2014 “Bastion” leaves the audience in almost a state of wonderment. A bald man had caught sight of himself in a shop window and, having decided he needed a haircut, gets a haircut from the barber inside and even pays him for the cut.

Panel moderator and Superfest coordinator, Emily Beitiks, explained that “Bastion” had opened as an installation piece at an art gallery, where viewers sat in a barber chair in the middle of the room and watched the film playing in surround sound. What made it exciting for Superfest was this film short’s stealth approach to including disability by taking a nuanced perspective. The lead character is played by an autistic, though disability never entered the conversations around the movie at any of the mainstream festivals where it was screened.

The next animated 2014 short, “The Chili Story,” was directed by Patty Berne, co-founder of the Bay Area-based Sins Invalid project, which focuses on disability justice in the performing arts. The short itself is a humorous and ironic take on taboos both inside and outside of disability.

The 2015 “The Right to be Rescued,” set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, highlights the dire need for cities to include the needs of people with disabilities in their disaster management plans. One such heartbreaking story is the late Benilda Caixeta, a wheelchair user with muscular dystrophy, abandoned by her driver, who tells her, “I can’t come and get you, I’ve got my own family to worry about.” Her friend narrates how their phone conversation is cut short as flood water from the broken levees rushes into Caixeta’s home.


The final short was the 2012 “Everything is possible.” It follows Agustine, a Honduran wheelchair user due to childhood polio, who had been painstakingly building a helicopter, piece by piece, from scrap material since 1958. Reactions to him range from admiration to derision even as people around him say his task is impossible.

The panel discussion then turned to the recent momentum of disability now becoming part of mainstream film in a way it had not been previously. Panelist Ajani Murray, who is both an actor and public speaker, felt that this was because the world had become smaller. With streaming services and social media such as YouTube, artists did not have to go through big studios and television anymore. As Carter-Long remarked, “You can’t put the genie back in the bottle now... (People are) getting hip to the idea there’s always been a disability history, there’s always been disability culture. And they are starting to wonder why they didn’t know about it.”

In response to an audience question on how to close the gap and educate the world, Murray explained that while policy and law can be hard to understand, art is “understandable and palpable.” Cater-Long added that artistic mediums are a good way to sensitize people by getting to their heart first before getting into laws.

The panelists also had advice for aspiring filmmakers in the audience. Screenwriter Matthew Alazic urged filmmakers to “create content and put it out there. Take advantage of the fact that the ability to record content is in everyone’s pocket now.” Murray stressed the importance of community and networking in order to do so, while Carter-Long left the audience members with this assurance: “There is a history and a lineage and a community out here that’s got your back.”



The Myth of Bodies that are Normal vs DIsposable.


The Myth of bodies that are "Normal" vs "Disposable" !!
 
My article on the documentary film ‘Fixed’ panel discussion that asks why some bodies are considered ‘disposable’. Part of Superfest's #NoBodyIsDisposible
 
 
 
 
Documentary film ‘Fixed’ panel discussion asks why some bodies are considered ‘disposable’

Superfest, the longest-running disability film festival in the world, screened the first of its #NoBodyIsDisposable film series June 18, Regan Brashear’s documentary “Fixed: The Science/Fiction of Human Enhancement.”

“Fixed” provides thought-provoking insight into the social and bioethical questions around the use of enhancement technologies. On the surface, there seem to be immense benefits to these technologies (such as bionic limbs and exoskeletons), which can significantly improve a disabled person’s quality of life.

At the same time, the film raises fundamental questions about accessibility and affordability. Who gets to decide what is “normal” when it comes to the human body? As research and technology continue to evolve, won’t the idea of “normal” itself become a moving target? The “normal” body of today could well be the disabled body of tomorrow. And when do we cross the line on using therapeutic technology to help, versus enhancing human ability or even creating a class of super humans, a sort of “better than well”?

The film also posits that ableism and cosmetic surgery are eerily similar — for both, you need to change your body in order to fit in. The film is quick to point out that, from a disability rights perspective, the problem is not the body itself but the social disregard and lack of integration for that kind of body by society.

The film screening was followed by a panel discussion with prominent disability justice activists on how race, disability and size influence which types of bodies are considered “disposable,” especially in light of recent events such as the pandemic, or protests concerning police brutality.

Panel moderator Nikki Brown-Booker, the program officer for Borealis Philanthropy, started with an observation on the prioritization of spending for expensive enhancement technologies, even as there was a shortage of personal protective equipment earlier this year and a lack of community programs to keep people with disabilities out of institutions.

Panelist Valerie Novack, board president of the Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies, drew attention to the countrywide systemic racial inequalities exposed in recent times. Novack felt that many people automatically assumed that they were safe from COVID-19, while old and disabled bodies were deemed “disposable.” Novack also noted the disproportionate amount of Black people in Chicago who have died from the coronavirus, highlighting the common thread with racial inequalities.

The second panelist was Max Airborne of the NoBody is Disposable coalition, which has intersected fat people, disabled people, older people and people of color. Airborne highlighted that when COVID-19 hit, states started forming triage guidelines for hospitals, which specifically disadvantaged fat people, old people and disabled people from getting care. Airborne added that the language of comorbidities often disguises this denial of care.

In addition, though the connection is not obvious, Airborne stressed that it is important to understand that anti-fatness can actually be a smoke screen or loophole for anti-Black racism. This is because fat and disabled people both exist in higher ratios in Black and Indigenous communities. Airborne cited scholar Sabrina Strings’ work, which concludes that fat-hatred emerged as a function of anti-Blackness and that European colonists did not want white people to develop “Indigenous” bodies. The norm had to be close to whiteness, thinness, youth and health, according to Airborne.

Silvia Yee, attorney at the Berkeley-based Disability Rights Education and Defense Fund, spoke of the profound ways in which law and social change interact. She said laws are important because they allow us to incorporate our collective social values into what the law says. Yee pointed to the recent ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court protecting LGBTQ+ employees from workplace discrimination; she noted that a possible factor behind this decision was the fact that the justices live in a world where 82% of the public supports LGBTQ+ civil rights protections.

Yee added that while law and social change can inhibit each other, they can also bring to life certain ideals of the people who live in the society and who have a different vision of the world: a world not ruled by inequality or stereotypes of the worth of an individual.





 
 

Last Weekender Meeting for Semester.

Last Daily Cal Weekender Depatment Meeting for the Semester.
We had the weekender awards  - where the 45 students in this department vote on the different articles produced this semester by the Weekender.

So my 2 recent articles bagged 3 spots. Nice!!!

On another note, this is what our the Weekender meetings, pre and post covid look like.




The Faces of Autism


If you meet one person with autism, you have met just one person with autism. The same diagnosis can have a thousand faces. 

This is the last of my series of 10 articles for my weekly opinion column "The Person Inside" for the Daily Californian. 

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The faces of autism


It’s serendipitous that my last column falls in April, which just happens to be Autism Awareness Month. 


It’s promising to see events that raise awareness about autism, such as the annual 3K walk organized by Spectrum: Autism at Cal. But despite these causes, there is still a lot of confusion surrounding this diagnosis. And as a young autistic, I’ve faced a mess of this autism confusion.


UC Berkeley’s Disabled Students’ Program has a weekly social group for autistics. I’m slowly trying to type on my iPad and keep up with the much quicker conversational flow of some of my fellow autistics. On many fronts, their issues seem quite different from mine. We all have the same diagnosis, but we are so different from one another — it makes me wonder how all of us can expect to have similar experiences.


Autism is a huge spectrum. At one end of the spectrum are the very verbal and very functional autistics, to the point where they are almost indistinguishable from their typical peers. At the other end are those who are severely affected by social language ability, intellectual ability and functional skills. 


Then there are the gifted savants — the autistic geniuses. These are people such as Stephen Wiltshire, who can reproduce entire cityscapes after just seeing them for a few minutes from the air.


As a result, autism has become highly romanticized. Autistics are thought to be geniuses like Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton. In our technological age, the leading stereotype of the autistic is the socially awkward but wealthy Silicon Valley techie, which is a far cry from the remaining thousands.


There are also a bunch of comorbidities that many of us autistics have, such as attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, bipolar disorder, sensory dysregulation and anxiety. Any combination of these disorders can make our experiences all the more different from other people on the autism spectrum.


When it comes to the college-going, nonverbal, typer-communicating autistics such as David Teplitz and me, the diagnosis just gets “curiouser and curiouser,” as Lewis Carroll’s Alice would say. We are developmentally all over the place in almost every aspect of our lives. So where do we fit in on this giant spectrum?


I’ve found that this confusion or misunderstanding of autism means that people don’t know what to do with us or how to act around us. Autism is kind of like the elephant in the room. The reaction is sometimes a nervous, “Oh, I’m sorry you have autism,” which does not make for a good conversation starter. As a result, many autistics choose not to divulge their diagnosis if their symptoms are mild or not obvious. It’s just too difficult. 


This confusion has also led some people to misuse the autism label in everyday life. The character of Larry David in the TV series “Curb Your Enthusiasm” lies about having Asperger’s (which is now included in autism) to excuse his rude behavior to his peers. But such false impersonations are a real disservice to the autistic community. 


There are very real societal consequences as a result of this very broad spectrum. We are thrown into this big bucket of autism, but it’s almost impossible to arrive at a one-size-fits-all solution. Treatment options are all the more difficult and complex because each autistic is different. 


The irony of this huge bucket is that even medical doctors are confused and attribute treatable causes to autism. When I got agitated in my pediatrician’s office as a child, she assumed that it was because of autism and called for the ambulance to sedate me. Luckily, the emergency doctor thought to check my ear and realized that I actually had an ear infection.


Community support can be hard to access as well. Programs seem to have specific profiles of autism in mind and often prefer the easier cases. As a result, families and individuals with more significant challenges may face a dearth of support staff and services. 

 

Thankfully, there is a lot of research being done on the biology of autism. While there has been some success, the road to applicable and specific solutions is a long way away. 

In the meantime, we on the spectrum muddle our way through life and hold our collective breath, waiting for those breakthroughs that we desperately need.


O Body Where Art Thou

In the Daily Californian, 2 years ago


The lack of Body Awareness or inability of the brain to form a Body Schema is a little known phenomenon in autism. I attempt to explain the neuroscience. 

This is the ninth of my series of 10 articles for my weekly opinion column "The Person Inside" for the Daily Californian. 
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Headline: O body, where art thou?


My hands repeatedly go up to my face, down to the arms of the chair and then back to my lap. My leg and my body keep making small movements. The girl sitting next to me in the lecture hall looks askance at me several times because I appear to be constantly fidgeting. 


The lecture begins, and the picture of the somatosensory map in the brain flashes on the screen, followed by other neuroscience concepts such as mirror neurons. My brain, ears and eyes all perk up in interest. 


Even as I am sitting there listening to the lecture, my mind is busily trying to extrapolate the lecture material to what is currently known about the neuroscience of autism and how it plays out in my life every day, since I am an individual with autism.  


I am especially intrigued by the body map that the brain forms of the different parts of the body in space and time. My mind tries to pull in strings of thought and form a web of understanding as I ponder whether this body map underlies many of the challenges we autistics face. By linking  the neuroscience of autism with observations of my functioning, I am better able to understand my everyday challenges.


You see, for a subset of autistics like me, the brain is not able to form a proper map or body schematic. I can at times feel like parts of my body are missing and that I am not grounded. 


My body adapts through movement. For example, the brain asks the hand where it is, and a connection is formed when the hand moves. The brain is now able to map the hand in its body schematic. But these connections are temporary, which means that if I sit absolutely still for too long in the lecture hall, I may just fall asleep. What other students see are the constant impulsive body movements.


I also tend to rely on vision a lot to help me know where my body is. When I see my leg, my brain registers its presence in my body map. I don’t like to close my eyes during the day because I may lose track of my body. 


For my brain, it’s like looking at a fun house mirror that gives a very different image of you every time you look into it. The image in the mirror is what you are and not who you think you are. 


I tend to use the presence of people around me to help keep my body space organized and keep me grounded. I would feel lost and helpless in a large room with no people. Touching someone or someone touching me even very lightly can help my body parts feel connected to each other and makes me feel grounded.


I think about the slide on mirror neurons from lecture. Mirror neurons in the brain activate when you see another person perform an action — it’s almost like you yourself were performing that action. Mirror neurons are thought to be linked to perception, language ability and even empathy. 

Many professionals believe that there is a delay in the formation of mirror neurons in autistics like me. I wonder if that is because of my imperfect body map, since I am not able to repeat the same neural pathways as many times as non-autistics can. 


I try to pull in more strings of neuroscience, such as apraxia, into this body map puzzle that I am pondering. Apraxia is the difficulty with complex purposeful movements needed for everyday life, such as speech. It is possible that my imperfect body schema contributes to the apraxias that I and many other autistics face.

 

I attempt to straighten out a string that’s been hanging loose on my web of understanding. It’s a catch-22 when you factor in sensory input from the environment. I believe that my sensory input from the environment has to be uniform to form a good body schematic. At the same time, I need to have a good body schematic to interact well with the environment. But I don’t have a good body map, so the sensory environment can be overwhelming and intense for me at times. 


I leave my lecture that day feeling very contemplative as I walk down Oppenheimer Way. My web of understanding still feels somewhat incomplete. While I am excited at all the progress that has been made in understanding the neuroscience of autism, I can only hope that solutions will also follow soon — ones that will help us autistics have a better life.  


Compulsion Complexity

Written for for the Daily Californian 


I explain the phenomenon of obsessive-compulsive and repetitive behaviors that can often accompany autism. 

This is the eighth of my series of 10 articles for my weekly opinion column "The Person Inside" for the Daily Californian. 

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Headline: Compulsion complexity 

I’m sitting in one of the smaller classrooms in Tolman Hall for a psychology discussion section. A student

walks in, and the door swings shut behind her. I’m pretty sure the door didn’t close properly, so I get up

and make sure it did. I repeat this action for the next student who walks in.


The class begins and Mike Dolsen, my GSI, starts speaking about the paper that is due in a few weeks.

Just at that moment, a third student walks through the door. I jump up to go fix the door. 

Two more students walk in. This time, Mike, who has been observing me, goes and shuts the door before I can get to it. Every time a student walks in after that, Mike makes sure the door is shut. 

Obsessive-compulsive behaviors is one of the comorbidities that many people with autism — like me — have to deal with. 

When most folks think of obsessive-compulsive behaviors, the first image that comes to their mind is of people washing their hands until they bleed. While compulsive behaviors don’t have to be that extreme, they can nevertheless be quite disruptive to the functioning of the person engaging in them.

Another example of this behavior in my case is how I react to the lint on people’s jackets. I am hard-pressed not to rapidly walk over and remove that piece of lint. Such an action of course would be viewed as highly inappropriate behavior, but all my thoughts are all aimed at that piece of lint.

Obsessions are the unwanted thoughts, and compulsions are the impulsive behaviors that occur in response to those thoughts. I, like many on the autism spectrum, have a laundry list of such obsessive-compulsive behaviors to suit every occasion. 

As a small child, I used to line up all my toys and building blocks in a perfectly straight line. My line had to be in the precise sequence of red, blue, green and yellow, with the black and white ones at the end. My line would stretch right across the room. 

The best way to tackle these compulsions is systematic repeated exposure in order to recondition your brain. It’s called exposure and response prevention. To tackle my lining-up behavior, my therapists would rearrange the color sequence or break my line, and I would not be allowed to go near to fix it. 

It’s kind of like what Amy Farrah Fowler attempts to do with Sheldon Cooper’s compulsion in the TV series “The Big Bang Theory.” Sheldon can’t stand an incomplete sentence or task, so Amy makes Sheldon watch as she intentionally exposes him to incomplete songs, activities and sentences. 

It’s terribly hard at first. Just like Sheldon, I would re-engage in the behaviors as soon as people’s backs were turned. Eventually, I came to accept that I should not obsessively engage in that specific behavior. 

The support of therapists and people around me was important — they monitor me and helped me transition. My therapists would only allow me to engage in these behaviors a certain number of times in order to help me reduce and fade the behavior. For example, I would be allowed to close the door three times before I had to stop.

Compulsive behaviors, however, are much easier to quash when the behavior is directed at objects. The availability of an object can be externally manipulated by a therapist. 

But it is harder to address behaviors that are more cerebral in nature or when the compulsion is in reaction to the behaviors of others in a public setting since we can’t control their behavior. People crossing their legs bothers me, but it’s inappropriate to attempt to straighten out their legs.

Engaging in these behaviors brings about a mixture of emotions. On one level, they are strangely comforting. It feels good to have something just right — a perfection of sorts. It’s the familiar sound of the click of the door as it shuts. It’s that jacket that’s untarnished by lint. 

At the same time, these behaviors are highly annoying, irritating and exhausting. My brain is well aware of this second obsessive track. Each time I repetitively engage in these behaviors, part of my brain stands aside and exasperatedly remarks, “Really, you gotta be kidding me!” or “Here we go again!” But that compulsion just overrides over any logical or intelligent thought. 

Increased anxiety is the end outcome as you struggle to cope with this set of conflicting emotions and this addiction. These parallel loops of anxiety may lead to other more dysfunctional autistic behaviors in turn, and even a meltdown. 

It could well be that obsessive-compulsive behaviors are coping reactions by us autistics to the world of chaos around us. These behaviors give me a subconscious but misguided feeling of control over my body and environment. But pushing myself to not engage in these compulsions gives me the real power here.





The Access Ramp to Volunteering

In the Daily Californian


Lives whether abled or (dis)abled have to be worth living. The importance of volunteering vs just being the recipient of volunteering for people with disabilities.

This is the 7th of my series of 10 articles for my weekly opinion column "The Person Inside" for the Daily Californian. 
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Headline: The access ramp to volunteering 

Entrée to volunteering


No matter our challenges, we all want to lead productive lives. We all want to be change-makers at some level. Part of this sense of accomplishment and satisfaction comes when we feel that someone else has benefited from something we have done. By volunteering, we enrich the lives of others. There are many intrinsic and extrinsic benefits to volunteering.


Most folks take the access ramp to volunteering for granted because volunteering is easily available to them. But being differently-abled puts a whole new light on this access. The fact of the matter is that people with disabilities are, more often than not, excluded from the arena of volunteering.


Disabled folks are often regarded as the recipients of volunteering rather than the providers of service. In the past, I’ve had myriad high schoolers spend their time with me, helping me through art and dance classes or playing basketball and video games. 


Many people traditionally think that volunteering requires social interaction skills and the ability to handle oneself physically well in face-to-face interactions. There are many nuances to volunteering — you may have to travel somewhere, meet people, explain, physically assist and have decent fine motor skills. 

Given my lack of verbal communication skills and my disorganized body, these requirements seemed like an impossible bar for me to meet. For the longest time, I wondered if individuals like me would ever get the experience of volunteering. 


Fortunately for me, I discovered that there are nontraditional ways that one can volunteer — I just needed to not be boxed into the mindset of the traditional skill set. So I drew upon my writing skills as a source of volunteering. 


During my high school years, I embarked on projects such as image description for Bookshare. Bookshare is a resource that converts textbooks into accessible formats for folks with print disabilities. I was part of the team that created a detailed description of the diagrams in these textbooks so that they too could be included in the audio format. I’ve also done other volunteering tasks, such as translating data-heavy field reports about the plight of the children of migrant brick-kiln workers into web-friendly content for a literary project. 


Volunteering in these nontraditional ways made me feel like I too am a contributing and productive member of society, no matter my disability status. 


I had expected to find more such opportunities when I joined UC Berkeley. After all, UC Berkeley is known for its activism and service organizations, so I assumed that there must be some role for me. A majority of the booths that line Sproul Plaza are aimed at service activity and actively seek student volunteers. I’ve even heard stories of students being overwhelmed by the number of flyers pushed on them as they walk down Sproul. 


Alas, I usually walk away from Sproul “flyer-less.” Apparently, the outward face of disability does not invite the receipt of flyers. A series of students walking in front of me are handed a flyer. But when I approach, the hand that is raised up to hand out flyers drops down to the side and the student very politely waits for me to walk past. 


I wonder whether there are subtle behaviors that precede the receipt of a flyer. Perhaps there is a certain level of eye contact, fleeting or otherwise, that takes place before a flyer is handed over. Making eye contact is not something that we autistics are known for. 


Likewise, when I walk up to a booth to inquire about volunteer opportunities, I am usually met with bemused or skeptical looks. The presumption is that I would not be able to do it anyway. 

At the end of the day, it’s not so much the flyer we seek — rather it’s the opportunity to make our small mark on society. 


I’m still trying to figure out how to get involved in volunteering at UC Berkeley and what my role could be. I am not the ideal person for the “clean-up-the-park” kind of physical volunteering, but there must be existing tasks or potential tasks that do not require body coordination and verbal skills. 


In the meantime, I’m trying to get involved in other ways. This semester, for example, I’m writing this column for The Daily Californian. An opinion column in a newspaper publication is not technically “volunteer” work. Nevertheless, I am excited at its reach in raising awareness about issues that differently-abled students like me face on a daily basis. If I have helped contribute toward improving the quality of life of even one other special-needs individual by changing attitudes of people around them, the effort on my part is totally worth it.


To the student handing out flyers on Sproul Plaza and manning the booths: Take a chance on the rest of us, even if we don’t fit the typical profile. Presume competence. There is actually a lot of untapped potential and new perspectives that can be gained when the differently-abled like me are involved and included in volunteering efforts too. 



A chilling waiting game: disability and healthcare during a pandemic


https://www.dailycal.org/2020/04/04/a-chilling-waiting-game-disability-and-health-care-during-a-pandemic/

A chilling waiting game: disability and healthcare during a pandemic


I have always taken pride in the tremendous progress (though far from perfect) that this country of mine has made in leading and furthering disability rights. Though I may be a minimally speaking autistic with comorbidities which significantly affect my daily functioning, and though the road has not been clear of bumps, such rights enable me to pursue higher education at UC Berkeley and aim for much more.


Now with the COVID-19 pandemic, people with disabilities like me all seem to be playing a chilling waiting game that is anxiety-filled. I wonder how long it will be before this virus impacts our family, caregivers and other supports we rely on for our wellbeing. If we are personally infected, how bad will it be? Death is an inevitability for all humankind, and I am not afraid of dying. However, what would be both macabre and tragic is if the death of a person is due to the fact of their life being thought of as not having value to society.


When I first came across the term medical rationing toward people with disabilities recently, my reaction was shock. It was even more disconcerting to learn that such practices are in play in this day and age and exacerbated by shortages in a developed country like the US, which is supposed to be a global leader in terms of resources, technology and medical research. 


Historically, our society has marked some lives, such as those with disabilities, as having less value and therefore as not entitled to all that the rest of society may take for granted. For instance, in my disability studies class at UC Berkeley we had learned of the eugenics movement and sterilization laws that targeted those with disabilities; they were termed “weak and feeble minded” and thus prevented from passing on their ‘defective genes.’ 


With respect to medical rationing, Samantha Crane, Legal Director and Director of Public Policy of the Washington D.C.-based disability rights organization, Autistic Self Advocacy Network, states that while some states may not have explicit written laws, they do have triage guidelines that deny healthcare to some people with disabilities. 


“For example, New York State Department of Health has guidelines saying that if there is a shortage of ventilators, doctors can consider ‘severe chronic conditions that adversely impact health functionality,’ like spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), when deciding who should have access to a ventilator. Even if someone was already on a ventilator before coming to the hospital, doctors can actually remove them from the ventilator if they don't meet the guidelines, said Crane.


From 2010 up until February this year, Alabama enabled healthcare discrimination against people with intellectual disabilities, with its now-unpublished, former ventilator triage  guidelines for mass-casualty emergencies stating that “children with severe neurological problems may not be appropriate candidates.” In my mind, this guideline impacts a significant percentage of autistic children alone, not to mention children with a wide range of other disabilities. It is concerning that these guidelines were in place until just this year. Tennessee and Washington are further examples of states with discriminatory guidelines.


According to Crane, many disability organizations across the nation at both the local and national level have been collaborating in the effort to file complaints with the Department of Health and Human Services, or HHS, in recent weeks in what has become almost a race against time. 


Lawrence Carter-Long, Communications Director and Director, Disability and Media Alliance Project, at the Berkeley-based Disability Rights Education and Defence Fund, also pointed to resources that the DREDF had compiled, “to give folks the resources necessary to fight back — do the homework basically — so other groups across the nation and in other states don't have to reinvent the wheel.”  


These resources include information on the Illegality of medical rationing on the basis of disability as well as a letter to Governor Gavin Newsom urging him to prohibit such healthcare rationing.


Carter-Long explained, Our intention with this material was/is to 1. make sure this is on the Governor's radar and to go on record, 2. compile the necessary resources for other groups across the nation and 3. create a template other advocacy organizations can use with minor changes.”


On March 28, the HHS Office for Civil Rights released a bulletin telling medical providers they could not discriminate against people with disabilities. Roger Severino, OCR Director is quoted in the bulletin as saying, “Our civil rights laws protect the equal dignity of every human life from ruthless utilitarianism. Persons with disabilities...should not be put at the end of the line for health care during emergencies.” 


In addition, on March 30, the California Departments of Health Care Services (DHCS), Public Health (CDPH), and Managed Health Care (DMHC) issued a joint bulletin stating, “The State of California understands that people with disabilities are concerned that medical providers might consider an individual’s disability status when determining which patients to treat if hospitals or other health care facilities experience a surge of patients needing life-saving care. This joint bulletin reminds health care providers and payers that rationing care based on a person’s disability status is impermissible and unlawful under both federal and state law.


But whether these directives will translate to reality in a field that is already absolutely overwhelmed and desperately short of resources during a pandemic remains to be seen. 


Clarissa Kripke, M.D is a Health Sciences Clinical Professor and Director of the Office of Developmental Primary Care at UCSF. Kripke is on the frontlines of this pandemic and felt that “one thing that confuses doctors is that function has been used as a proxy for life expectancy.” 


She explained by the time someone is having functional problems due to age or chronic disease  in their vital organs, those organs have very little capacity left and any little thing could be fatal. So loss of function is associated with a poor prognosis if the reason for the loss of function is severe damage to one or more vital organs from age or disease.


Kripke, who is also Vice-Chair on the board of Communication First, which advocates for communication-disability civil rights, added that people with neurological conditions often have severe functional or cognitive problems, but perfectly healthy vital organs. In that situation, poor function doesn't mean poor prognosis at all. According to Kripke, people with disabilities and healthy vital organs benefit greatly from aggressive medical care. 


“In the language of rationing schemes this distinction often gets muddy and people are assumed to be dying even when they are not. Function or diagnostic labels such as intellectual disability or autism should not be used to estimate likelihood of benefiting from medical treatment. Only signs of the health of vital organs should be used, Kripke said. 


Kripke wants to stress that the lives of people with disabilities are meaningful and valuable. She feels that healthcare rationing is not inevitable and that it instead will be determined by two things. First, the degree to which we collectively and individually do our part in stopping the spread of the virus, and second, how soon we do it. If we take action too late, then we face untenable rationing in which there is no justice any way you look at it.  


It would be helpful if we could predict who will benefit from treatment, and who will not, but we don’t have a way to do that accurately. Healthcare by lottery isn’t a better solution, Kripke said. 


Since there is no known cure for COVID-19, your immune system is the main thing that will fight the virus, explained Kripke. By the time someone is critically ill enough to need a ventilator, their prognosis is poor, with or without a ventilator, and there is little healthcare professionals can do to change the course of the illness at that point. So she would like everyone to really focus on optimization of compliance and prevention strategies. 


According to Victor Pineda, every field of ethics incorporates value judgments, and there are evolving conceptions of what justice is and what is ethical or unethical. Pineda is a world renowned human rights activist, UC Berkeley adjunct lecturer at the department of city and regional planning and Director of Inclusive Cities Lab at the Institute on Urban and Regional Development.


He explained in modern times, people with disabilities have been seen as deficient or as an expense or liability to society. At the same time, we have the universal declaration of human rights like the UNCRPD (United Nations conference on the rights of people with disabilities). The current situation is thus an opportunity to rethink medical ethics in ways that follow the principles of social justice.


“In these times we are really tested to show who we really are, what we really care about, what are the values worth fighting for, what are the values worth defending. Do we value human rights and human dignity, social justice and equality? It's exactly when we should be most challenged, that we should live up to those highest morals and aspirations,“ said Pineda.


Pineda has a neuromuscular condition that requires him to use a wheelchair and a machine to breathe so he can live with his current 9% lung capacity. His machine provides non-invasive pulmonary breathing support in that it goes over his nose. He took the decision to self-quarantine early on during this pandemic to reduce risk. 


Right now he feels that he lives in this existential level of threat that is assaulting not just entire systems and economies, politics, policies and institutions, but also his personal wellbeing. Pineda has had to engage in different risk assessments relative to his personal care.


 “Who will care for me? How responsible are they? How closely will they follow protocol, in terms of hygiene, in terms of cleanliness, in terms of washing their hands, in terms of washing my equipment, wiping down surfaces? What is the cost associated with that much higher level of care? ... So with that I think we are in a very difficult place, said Pineda. 


Pineda had been advised by his Stanford pulmonologist not to go to the hospital if infected with the virus and instead to maximize his settings at home and try to recover there. Should he reach a point that he simply can’t breathe, then he will need to go to the hospital to be attended to. 


The problem is that Pineda would not be able to go to the hospital by himself as he needs an attendant to even take him there, which puts him at tremendous threat and risk. It is akin to someone who is deaf and unable to go without a sign language interpreter. 


In addition, Pineda said his ventilator would be confiscated as it does not meet certain criteria and he would be intubated, wherein they put a tube down his throat and perform a surgery called a tracheostomy. So the thought of going to the hospital without the two things he most needs — his ventilator and his attendant — is very scary for Pineda. 


I have to echo Pineda's sentiment that this is all quite scary as the unfolding events feel out of control. An issue that has been on my mind is that those of us with more significant disabilities and limited spoken language ability are highly dependent on parents, family or known caregivers for much of our basic living skills support. I can just imagine my already limited communication skills absolutely shutting down when in trauma or when ill.  The thought of being quarantined or left alone without support is frightening. 


I also wonder what happens if both our parents or our primary caretakers during this time get infected. And what happens in the case of a single-caretaker home, for not everyone comes from a large circle of friends and support. Even in ‘normal’ times, public service agencies for the disabled community like the Regional Centers set up by the California Department of Developmental Disabilities take time in setting up or coordinating services; they would be utterly overwhelmed in a pandemic that requires almost immediate responses. 


But while the immediate future has a level of uncertainty, Kripke also offered advice for individuals with disabilities and their families during this time of the global coronavirus pandemic.


The first is that it is important to have access to food, medications and supplies that people with disabilities rely on to maintain good health and also access to consistent paid and unpaid support. 


She stressed that retaining your rights and being safe and wise are not the same thing. People who moved around before the shelter-in-place took effect unwittingly may have contributed to the public health crisis. She also points out that although you may be entitled to services in your home, providing those services could pose a risk to you and your family. Therefore each of us needs to make good choices about what risk is “essential.’ 


Kripke also felt that the complex support needs of individuals with disabilities may mean even stricter physical distancing requirements than for the general population to reduce the risk of exposure for individuals and their caregivers. It may mean postponing medical procedures or forgoing important but non-essential services. 


It may also mean getting telehealth advice rather than risk physically going to a clinic, she continued, as there is not only the danger of your getting infected or spreading infection, but also the risk of being separated from your advocates and communication support. While hospitals could make individual exceptions, there are reasons why a support person is not allowed as they risk being exposed to the coronavirus in addition to hospitals not being able to spare protective gear for the support person’s use. For some people with disabilities, it makes more sense to provide enhanced treatment at home rather than receive care in a hospital. 


If, however, you are having an emergency where minutes matter, she urges you to call 911. 


Kripke stressed putting together a circle of support, as you also need to think about who would provide care if your supporters or parents are sick. She pointed to a webinar by California-based Disability Voices United on Coronavirus Emergency Preparedness discussing tools that could help individuals with disabilities and their families think through such a plan. In the webinar one parent actually expressed the sentiment that what terrified parents was not dying as such, rather it was dying and leaving their disabled child (of any age) without support. 


Kripke also advised developing a plan for what you will do if one or more of you in a household develops a fever or cough. If you need personal assistance that requires close contact, then your household should try to secure protective equipment (masks, gloves, eye protection, gowns) to address the first 72 hours after someone in the household becomes ill to avoid spreading the virus in the home. You may be able to get more supplies from your department of public health if someone is sick. 


While it is not possible to provide care to a sick person without getting exposed to the virus, she advised trying to limit exposing all supporters. This may mean some family members moving to a separate room or out of the house for a period. And if possible, exposed and unexposed people should not share bathrooms. 

Other important issues according to Kripke are not allowing the more flexible regulation and oversight to lead to increased abuse and neglect; protecting service providers' health and economic interests; and access to safe quarantine centers if sick people with disabilities, housemates, family members or service providers need to be separated. Discrimination and social isolation are also important issues to be considered. 


Kripke is appreciative that the Bay Area’s early and aggressive spatial distancing and shelter in place directives are being taken seriously by residents and is proud of local, city and state leaders who are sending consistent and appropriate messages, taking action and calling upon all of us to do our part. She sees the community too is coming together, and she encourages everyone to keep it up. 


She feels that if we do our part to flatten the curve, public health departments and hospitals and regional centers will have more time, personnel and resources to help solve problems and accommodate. In the meantime, any solutions you come up with your friends, family and trusted community organizations will probably be safer and better than the ones they will be able to arrange. 


Kripke leaves us with some very encouraging words of advice: Let’s use this crisis as an opportunity for community organizing and sending a message that none of us are expendable. We won’t leave anyone behind. Our country has problems, and we are the solution. We can save ourselves, our families, our community, our country, and our world by sharing information, working together, acting in unison, and helping each other.”