By: Margot Anthony | WGEC Student Staff Member | Social Work Student

This is going to be a continuation from my last blog post “Beginning Again.” Since creating that post I have worked to become more comfortable in my identity as a survivor of gender-based harm, specifically sexual assault. 

Writing my first blog post in November and December was both emotional and cathartic. It was very emotional for me because it was a story that I had not told many people before, and definitely had not shared publicly. Writing the post was also cathartic. The feelings that I shared in the post and experience had been weighing on me heavily, and it was a relief to share it, especially being able to share it on my own terms. 

After sharing my blog post I felt more calm and at peace than I had in a while. I felt like I had reclaimed something I didn’t even know I had lost. Everything  that had happened to me, I had survived. And in making the post, I now realized that I had reclaimed my story. 

It was after writing my blog post last semester that I decided I wanted to speak at Take Back the Night. While preparing what I was going to say during Take Back the Night I was practicing over and over. 

Writing. 

Re-writing. 

Over and over again.

On the day of Take Back the Night, when I got up to the microphone, I was so nervous. I hadn’t realized how different it would be verbally telling my story as opposed to writing it out and sharing it. I felt like I was shaking and I wanted to floor to just swallow me whole. 

I got through it. I felt like I blacked out the whole time and don’t remember most of what happened or really what I said, but I did it. What I do remember is feeling supported by those around me when I had finished speaking. Sharing my story was an amazing experience and very freeing for me. 

What impacted me the most at Take Back the Night, were the people that shared after me. Not just the people who were planning to share their stories. The people who got up and shared when they were just planning to observe. Their bravery, strength,  and willingness to be vulnerable inspired me. 

I planned what I was going to say for months and still almost didn’t say anything. What I never considered in sharing my story, is that it would help other people share their stories as well. 

What I want people to take away from this blog post and my previous post, is that there are people who will support and believe you wholeheartedly and you do not have to go through everything alone. You are stronger than you think and you have more support than you know. 

I will finish off this post with the quote that I read out during Take Back the Night: 

Everyone loves a survivor once [they’re] quiet. Once [they’re] soft, polite, healed. But bring up what actually happened? Talk about the abuse, the manipulation, the betrayal? Suddenly you’re too much. Bitter. Angry. Suddenly you’re the problem. The truth is – they don’t want survivors. They want silence with a pretty filter. They want your pain digestible. Not loud. Not real. So when I speak? I do it loudly. Clearly. Unapologetically. Because I wasn’t put back together just to keep everyone else comfortable. – Zenda-Lee Williams. 

By Ashwathi Menon, Bioinformatics & Public Health Major, Student Staff Member

The first thing that comes into play is performance.

The jewelry. The eyeliner so sharp that it can be seen from the last row. The well-rehearsed smile remains unshaken under the lights of the stage. My South Asian heritage comes into our lives through performance—through the vibrancy and color of the thematic films, through dance, and through the celebrated aesthetics.

However, for us, in the South Asian diaspora, culture goes beyond performance.

It is memory. It is an inheritance. It is a translation. It is survival.

During APIDA Heritage Month, there is one question that loops me more than others: how often does culture become something to consume before it is even understood as something normative to society? How can people be impressed by the beauty of South Asian culture without understanding much of the life, struggle, and history that lies beneath it?

Sometimes, being a South Asian woman raised in a Western society means negotiating these two things every day.

Bharatanatyam is a classical dance from Southern India, characterized by storytelling using the language of dance, rhythm, and expression. The hand gestures, called mudras, form an entire language on their own. A single movement can symbolize a flower, rain, heartbreak, prayer, or power. The eyes shift deliberately. The posture remains grounded and strong through aramandi, the half-seated position that forms the foundation of the dance. The face carries emotion just as much as the body does.

In Bharatanatyam, you do not simply dance. You communicate.

The drishti bhedas, the controlled eye movements, require directness. The mudras ask your hands to speak confidently before your voice ever does. The entire form teaches you to take up space physically and emotionally without apologizing for it.

I think that mattered to me long before I had the words to explain why.

The nature of diasporic communities is inherently complex. You were raised with a profound understanding of your homeland, knowing that it exists and yet feeling distant from it. Your traditions have been taught to you secondhand, filtered through generations of parents, language, culture, and customs.

Some days, I feel deeply rooted in my culture. Other days, I feel like I am constantly trying to prove my authenticity, not only to others but also to myself.

Too American in some spaces. Too Indian in others.

I imagine many APIDA students understand this feeling all too well: the struggle of protecting your culture while constantly adapting- the exhaustion of translating yourself so others can comprehend better. It’s a feeling that’s familiar in your day-to-day environments, from classes to leadership positions to informal social gatherings.

Growing up, I’ve repeatedly seen people perceive South Asian women as their projections until they actually get to know us, the studious model minority. The accomplishments are noticed before we are. But life, and especially identity, is far more complicated than this.

Dancing was one of the few things where I ceased to feel pressure. Not because it solved all the conflicts inside me, but because it let me exist amidst them. Bharatanatyam made me realize that strength and grace did not negate each other, that rigor and emotion could coexist, that being visible could be both vulnerable and invigorating.

And perhaps that is why dancing holds such personal significance for me.

Not because of the act of performance itself, but for everything else it represents: continuation, preservation, the refusal to silently vanish.

Especially now, in APIDA Heritage Month, I consider how many children of immigrants go through life translating themselves for everyone else. Softening names. Bringing light to cultural practices. Adapting oneself to be easy to comprehend, bringing centuries’ worth of history into spaces never designed to accommodate it.

But with dance, there is no need for translation. My body just gets it.

Under vivid stage lights, my hands move instinctively through mudras, reflections of the younger version of myself who practiced relentlessly for years. My eyes meet the audience with confidence.

I am finally whole.

-By Amy Taylor, Social Work/Music Major

Humans are wired for belonging. We crave connection, shared purpose, and safety within groups. But not every group that promises community delivers it. Some take that longing and twist it into control. It often happens slowly, without people inside the group noticing. Nobody is immune to these organizations because they prey on people who are going through any sort of life change or who feel alone. As a college student, being away from family and friends for the first time can make one vulnerable to groups that offer “instant community.” College is a time when many students are rebuilding their sense of belonging from scratch, which makes it both exciting and vulnerable terrain.

Born Into Control

I learned about community and control during my earliest years, primarily through what community was not. I was born into a family of eight kids, the third-born and oldest girl. For the first 20 years of my life, my parents raised my siblings and me in a high-control organization (HCO). I knew nothing about a healthy community because the HCO dictated where we went to church, what type of education we received or did not, what we wore, what we did with our time and money, and who we would associate with. 

Identity and Expression

High-control organizations prescribe identities to their members, leaving little room for self-expression or discovery. As a child, I was forced to wear clothes I hated, such as long skirts (never pants) that swept the floor in length. My parents made sure that I was painfully modest, wearing baggy shirts that covered any indication that I was a woman, including my collarbone. At the large HCO conferences my family frequented, we had to wear white tops and long navy skirts. The message to me as a woman was clear: ‘cover up, sit down, shut up.’ I am thrilled to say that I overthrew their control, and today I enjoy putting outfits together that express who I am. I dress in vibrant colors and patterns, and even sport blue hair. These little things express my freedom as an individual; they bring me joy and, in a way, make up for lost time. I learned, through contrast, that true community embraces individual expression and differences. In a good community, you can be yourself, because conformity isn’t a value or a virtue.

Leadership and Power

In a healthy community, leadership styles are transparent, service-oriented, and accountable. High control organizations are authoritarian, hierarchical, and unquestionable. The leader of our HCO was not a musician, but he would put families on a pedestal if they were. They were treated with more respect and admiration than other members of the organization. Until they slipped up, of course, if one member of the family committed some faux pas, they were publicly shamed, shunned, and/or banished from the graces of the HCO. To this day, I don’t enjoy being placed on a pedestal for any reason, especially music. While I believe that music is a gift to be shared, I refuse to believe that I am ‘special’ because I’m a musician.

Information and Education

Access to information is, undeniably, a fundamental human right. In a healthy community, that right is expressed through open communication and transparency as well as access to all information. This was not my experience growing up in a high-control organization. All children were restricted to be “homeschooled” for all 12 grades and even beyond. I put the word homeschooled in quotation marks to avoid confusion. I did not receive a proper education. 

My days were spent absorbing propaganda released by the high-control organization. This propaganda was designed to distort our thinking by twisting history, science, or any other “school” subject into wild and wrong teachings for us to assimilate into our lives. When I wasn’t busy poring over propaganda, I was taught to read, write, and perform simple arithmetic. That’s all. When it came time for me to learn algebra, I didn’t understand what the book was telling me, and I went to my mother and asked to be placed in tutoring. Her response aligned with the HCO’s teaching; she ripped the book out of my hands and said, “One day you are going to be a wife and a mother; you don’t need to learn algebra.” At the age of thirty, I enrolled in community college, received some tutoring, and crushed four semesters of algebra, a fact that still makes me proud today. 

My mother’s censorship reached into what we read as well as what we watched. Each book that entered our house had to be approved by both my parents and the high-control organization. Once, I was given a Molly American Girl Doll book. My parents declared it evil and threw it out the day I got it. Most books I wanted to read got thrown out. We were, instead, encouraged to read about Christian martyrs, all of them coated with the subtextual suggestion that I would perhaps one day face the same fate. While I hope most parents would protect their young children from witnessing violence in movies, my parents were obsessed with it. I was banned from watching Disney movies (I saw my first one at the age of 21), but I was encouraged to watch Christians being burned at the stake (because that might be me one day). My earliest memory of films is watching a movie about Dutch nazi resistor Corrie ten Boom and her time in a concentration camp – incredibly violent, and totally inappropriate for a six-year-old. Instead of having access to age-appropriate material for learning and growing, I was being inundated with frightening messages about what my future would hold. Fear is the glue that holds high-control organizations together.

In a high-control organization, information is controlled, restricted, or distorted in some way. It might not look exactly like my story. Still, censorship and the fear of information are a dark road meant to keep people ingesting pre-selected information while discouraging critical thinking.

Freedom of Thought

Freedom of thought is essential to healthy communities; these communities encourage questioning, critical thinking, and dialogue. In a high-control organization, doubt, dissent, or independent thinking is discouraged and even punished. Thinking for myself was considered dangerous because groupthink was the only acceptable way to exist in the high-control organization. As a Christian, I was heavily shamed for asking questions and threatened with ostracism from my church and the HCO. 

Leaving the Trap

That being said, my diaries were my place of refuge. I wrote endless questions in there, and I compared what I was experiencing in my family to other families or individuals I encountered. I felt safe writing in these diaries because no one ever read them. I was able to think critically about all my experiences, and even at the tender age of ten, I was aware that something in my little world wasn’t quite right. 

Often, people ask me, “How did you get out?” The answer starts with those diaries and a kids’ radio program that depicted children who liked being near their parents (shocker) because their parents were kind to them. I was afraid of my parents. To me, these programs were a stark contrast to the way I was being raised, and I started journaling, ‘Do I deserve to be treated better?’ Eventually, I came to the conclusion that my parents were never going to care for, protect, or provide for me the way I needed. When two of my brothers planned to move out, I moved out with them. 

Building True Community

The ramifications of leaving both the family and the high-control organization were daunting. I was threatened with excommunication, and while that was painful, it no longer felt like annihilation because I was ready to start creating a community of my own. Eventually, I learned through trial and error that the best communities are the ones you forge on your own, not pre-packaged ones that offer instant friendships, pre-made activities, and, eventually, a boatload of hidden rules and restrictions. Today my community is thriving. I have friends and family who are close to me; we stay in regular contact, and together we support each other through all of life’s ups and downs. I am open and friendly with many people, but I have a close circle of friends who are my ride-or-die. I’m thrilled that that circle of friends does not have a leader lording themselves over us. It feels good to be free.

What I’ve noticed about belonging and inclusion is that while high-control organizations accept people conditionally based on conformity and a twisted sense of loyalty, healthy communities base them on empathy, diversity, inclusion, and respect. Today, I get to choose the people in my circle. We laugh, cry, and grow together. There is no hierarchy, no hidden rules, no fear. Just connection. That’s what community should be.

Coming and Going

So if high-control organizations are so awful, why do people join? Answer? They don’t. No one wakes up one day and says, “I wanna join a cult” or “I want someone else to prescribe my identity” or “I want some leader to dictate everything I do.” People don’t willingly or naturally give up their freedoms. There are well-defined psychological, physical, emotional, and social manipulations that lure people into these organizations. In the beginning, it’s all very exciting because we think we’ve found our tribe.  Only time reveals the trap: HCOs want to use you and discard you. When it comes to exits and boundaries, an HCO will leave you feeling discouraged, shamed, or punished. Sometimes, the threat of losing everyone in the group is a powerful manipulation to make you stay. However, healthy groups allow people to leave freely without stigma or threats.

What About You?

College is often a time of transition, self-discovery, and searching for belonging. You might meet groups that promise friendship, meaning, grandiose purpose, and “instant community,” but it’s important to pause and think critically. Healthy communities celebrate your individuality, encourage your questions, and let you come and go freely. High-control organizations, on the other hand, disguise control as care and conformity as commitment. Before giving away your trust, ask yourself: Can I be fully myself here? Can I speak up, disagree, or walk away without fear or shame? If the answer is no, then it’s not a tribe, it’s a trap. You deserve relationships and spaces where your freedom, curiosity, and identity are safe. True community doesn’t require you to shrink, it helps you grow. In the end, the difference between a tribe and a trap is freedom – the freedom to think, to question, to express, and to leave. True community doesn’t demand your loyalty; it earns your trust and your love.

If you are caught up in a high-control organization, remember there is hope, help, and resources on the other side. There are many people (including me) waiting to support and encourage you on your journey to find a healthy community. Leaving is hard; it’s easy to feel really alone, especially if your family or close friends stay in the HCO. But I’d encourage you to remember that your journey is just starting. The world is full of many people waiting to connect with you. Get some support, tell your story, and stay free.

Resources

International Cultic Studies Association https://www.icsahome.com/

Freedom of Mind Resource Center (founded by Steven Hassan, cult expert and former member of the Moonies)

 freedomofmind.com

The Open Minds Foundation

openmindsfoundation.org

Focuses on education and awareness about undue influence, manipulation, and coercive control.

By: Margot Anthony, WGEC Student Staff Member and Social Work Student

Main theme: Letting yourself be vulnerable again in a relationship after gender-based harm. 

Trauma from gender-based harm and healing from that trauma is a topic that is discussed a lot at the Women’s, Gender, and Equity Center (WGEC); we even have a weekly discussion group about it called “We Believe You.” It is through this group that I have been thinking about the healing process, and how in all of the books that I have read about healing from gender-based harm it is never discussed how to navigate beginning a new relationship and letting yourself be vulnerable again. 

Since I had experienced my trauma, when I was 17 and 19, I had never been in a relationship after that. I am 23 years old now. The thought of letting myself become that vulnerable again was terrifying, and right now it still is. I had a decision to make, I could live in a world of fear and what if’s or I could take small steps into letting myself fully live my life again, on my own terms. 

That’s what I decided to do. I began slowly. I was hanging out with some of my friends and we had the great idea to make an account for me on a dating app. Let’s just say there were some highs and many lows. It took me almost three years to even be comfortable with the idea of seeing if I wanted to go out on dates with people. It took me almost four years to actually go on a date with someone. It took 13 first dates going wrong in some way to find someone that seemed like they understood and respected boundaries. 

After some self-care and some journaling I decided that it was time to try again, and that I would give this person a chance; and so far I am really glad that I did. The fear is still there, and will continue to be there for a long time, but he seems to understand that. He encourages me to assert my own boundaries and does not take silence as a yes. Will this last forever? I don’t know and right now that is okay for me. Through this I am learning that there are people who do understand that setting boundaries isn’t presenting a challenge or saying ask me again. There are people that will understand some of your boundaries and limits without you having to say anything and without you having to explain anything to them. 

This was a difficult step for me to take because I was putting myself into a situation where I did not know what the outcome would be. I still don’t know what the outcome will be, and I’m beginning to realize that that is okay. 

Healing and starting to trust people and be vulnerable again is not a linear process, there are ups and downs. I wish that I could say that there were concrete steps that I took to get to this point.  I wish I could say that I’m not scared anymore, but that would be a complete lie. I’m still scared. That is something I don’t think will change. What I am learning is that fear does not have to control everything. 

Making sure fear does not control your life and keep you from experiencing new things is easier said than done. Some steps that I take include: 

1. Sharing my location when I go on dates. 
2. Giving trusted people the name of the person that I am going on a date with and a picture. 
3. Meeting someone at a location for a date and not being picked up by them. 
4. Telling people what the plan for the date is, and informing them if anything changes.
   1. What time and where we are meeting. 
   2. What time the date is likely to end. 
   3. Places we may be going other than the place that we meet. 
5. Being clear about boundaries when needed.
   1. This is one of the hardest things to do. It’s scary. But it’s important. If you get invited to do something you don’t want to do or don’t feel comfortable doing, SAY NO. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF! NO IS A COMPLETE SENTENCE! 
6. Trust your gut! – If you feel uncomfortable, leave. Even if it is something small. 

Your journey is yours and yours alone. There is no specific timeline. Dating is hard and scary. One thing that I have learned is that while first dates are scary, the dates after can be even more nerve wracking. The important thing to remember is to make decisions that are good for you, and be willing to communicate your needs with people. The biggest thing that I have learned and that I will leave you all with is the fact that you do not have to be perfect to be in a relationship you just have to be trying. 

Accessibility and Disability Services and Student Disability Services joins The Mosaic Centerand all UMBC partners with honoring Black History Month.

Rediscover how some members of the Black Civil Rights Movement also played essential roles as activists in the US Disability Rights Movement, and paved the way for disability rights activists to influence social change and legislation. Many people with disabilities were part of both movements and continue to be today.

Dr. Sami Schalk presented at UMBC in March of 2023 on 504 and Beyond: Disability Politics and the Black Panther Partyvia the Dresher Center - in co-sponsorship with ADS and I3B.

Why Black Disabled History Matters by Dikko Yusef of WID provides a great summary.

Some of the intersectionality within the documentary  Crip Camp shows how intersectional being black and disabled can be - beyond the Black Panthers. Further back in history, learn new things about the famous Black figures who also had disabilities. For instance, Harriet Tubman lived with epilepsy and narcolepsy, a reminder that disability is both directly and indirectly linked to many forms of violence.

In the links described below, you may rediscover or learn for the first time about Black history  being made in this moment, and there is so much to learn from the past.  Research forays have been known to start at Brad Lomax, and end up at the Wild Zappers, a DC-based all black all deaf dance company - what new-to-you ancestral influencers and history-makers will become front-of-mind to you? The research of Dr. Stephanie Keeney Parks takes a racially nuanced approach to Autism via In A Different Key. In 2022 Megan Thee Stallion launched a website to support mental health.  Haben Girma remains an important advocate for disability inclusion.

Important figures in Black History:

• National Disability Rights Network (NDRN) has a Black History Bio for each day of February: (link)https://www.ndrn.org/resource/disability-rights-in-black/
• On the website for Respect Ability, an advocacy organization, you can find an article featuring the experiences and voices of current African-American celebrities who have disabilities. (link)https://www.respectability.org/2018/02/highlighting-african-americans-disabilities-honor-black-history-month/
• Learn about Black History heroes who are or were deaf or blind: (link)https://dcmp.org/learn/203-black-history-month

·       Enter “Black History” plus any disability (i.e. "autism," "dyslexia," etc.) into a search engine and explore more about the intersectionality of disability.

Explore Black History and Disability Rights:

The National Center for Learning Disabilities (NCLD) has a great article about the integral role Black disability rights activists played in securing rights for all US citizens with disabilities.  (link)https://www.ncld.org/news/honoring-black-history-month-unsung-heroes-of-the-disability-rights-movement/ For more on Brad Lomax, a leader in the 1977 protests that led to the implementation of section 504 of the rehabilitation act, see this NYT obituary (link) https:/www.nytimes.com/2020/07/08/obituaries/brad-lomax-overlooked.html

Black Disabled and Proud: College Students with Disabilities is a website by the HBCU Disability Consortium. Their page titled “Black Lives Matter and Disability” speaks to the recent and daily making of Black history as it intersects with disability. (link)https://www.blackdisabledandproud.org/black-lives-matter.html The page includes links to thoughtful articles as well as self-care info.

The Disability Visibility Project’s Black Lives Matter page has podcasts (with transcripts) that explore the individual experiences of people who are actively contributing individually and/or organizing to raise awareness about being Black and having a  disability.  (link)https://disabilityvisibilityproject.com/tag/black-lives-matter/  Click through on the posts and find things like Jen White Johnson’s Black Disability Lives Matter mural (link)https://jenwhitejohnson.com/Black-Disabled-Lives-Matter-Mural-Project 

The Zinn Education Project offers Teach The Black Freedom Struggle classes with ASL and transcripts via this link - with the reminder that violence in any format may create disability. If you are looking for UMBC-based disability resources - use these links:

• Student Disability Services: For ALL students - graduate and undergraduate, as well as Information for Faculty working with student accommodations
• Accessibility and Disability Services: Work Accommodation for Faculty, Staff and Student Employees as well as technical accessibility support
• Report Accessibility Concerns online 24/7 here

Photo credit: Unseen Histories downloaded from Unsplash.com 

Part One: A Strange and Friendless Road, For a Tomorrow Without Tears

or, being a woman (mostly), queer, and autistic. Self-diagnosing, and the fear of an official medical stamp.

Content Warning for mention of the r-slur.

By Katlynn Seghetti.

Over my time working at the women’s center, I’ve been doing a lot more reflection and thinking about the future. Fun topics, assuredly. In this post, I wanted to verbalize my own, and I’m sure many others’, feelings on being autistic in the current climate. 

I was not recognized as autistic, until I took an AP Psychology course in my sophomore year of high school, (2017/2018, to age myself.) I saw the criteria for autism and literally went ‘hm. That all seems average. Can’t be me though, I’m able to take care of myself.” Consider me shocked when, not even months later, I entered the worst burnout state I’d ever been in – not in school, though. I still kept up my grades, still socialized well enough, but at home, I did nothing but scroll on the internet, or play one particular game until my eyes burned. I was lonely, and I couldn’t understand what the hell happened. 

But I still couldn’t be autistic, right? I’m excelling where it matters. I’m not a burden on anyone else. Ignoring the fact that consistently throughout my entire life, my family referred to me as retarded:

• “Why are you acting so retarded?” 
• “Don’t do that, you retard.” 
• “Aw, you’re serious? You’re our little retard in the family.” 

I couldn’t be autistic, I was purposefully refusing gender norms – I’m non-binary, of course. I couldn’t be, I have friends (who would treat me as a pet- one even did so at one of my more recent birthday parties, or make me the butt of the joke.) I couldn’t be, statistics show it’s a ‘boys’ disorder. 

It wasn’t until I was deep in that burnout that I got content online, tagged #ActuallyAutistic. This post suggested getting fidgets, I did so. It helped- but only because I wanted it to. A weighted blanket helped. But again, only because I wanted it to. Anything that helped me wasn’t because I was autistic. It was just because I’d been doing SO much research (…another sign in and of itself,) that I was simply just fooling myself. Then, came the reflection of my childhood, lots of tears, anger, and all that fun. 

Needless to say, I’m no longer in denial – I even got unofficial testing done at the health center here, and was told, “I can’t diagnose you, but I would say you are probably extremely highly likely autistic.” But… I think that’s where this ends. At least for a few years. I don’t need accommodations to succeed, I have a support system at home to help with the things I do need aid with. What would an official diagnosis give me? Another figurative target on my back. We’re an ‘epidemic’, we’re a social media trend, and we’re not to be taken seriously. Being queer, being connected to womanhood, I’m already terribly at risk. There’s no reason to add another one in the eyes of the government, the medical system, and anyone doubting my passions and my ability to do good work.

What I can do, though, is focus on community. My work in the Women’s Center, creating a Neurodiversity club, and connecting with other autistic (and other neurodivergent) adults at UMBC, allows me this. I can give space to those who feel like they don’t have it, and encourage change and progress. It’s not over until (drumroll) there’s a tomorrow with tears.

Part Two: The Journey through Genesis

or, my goals for next semester, and how we get there. 

What does that mean though? Campus-wide, where do all the neurodivergent students exist? Everywhere, and nowhere. You see someone every day, and probably just call them a ‘weird’ kid. Here’s how we can start.

A Neurodiversity Club.

• This is in the works, but it is genuinely astounding to me that, other than the Disability Advocate Union, something like this hadn’t been created. However, neurodivergent people are so rejected, shoved aside, and treated like a bad thing to keep hushed and under lock and key. Why would they feel empowered to create a club? Going through the process of founding this club, it’s so simple but very scary, in a way. Will the people who ‘verify’ that this club needs to exist agree with us? Will the students think we’re doing a good job? The only way to know is to take the jump.

A Neurodiversity Support Group, for students, and for staff and faculty.

• I can only speak for students, but I understand there’s been some frustration getting recognition on campus. Accommodations feel like interrogations, and going to professors is a stunted legal-speak conversation. Let’s get community, connections and actual neurodiversity knowledge around. Well, my group this spring semester will be part of that- starting a group and collecting resources for neurodiversity. It’s a lot of work. But it’s good work. Students deserve to have good work and support. One thing I didn’t expect is how much support I’ve gotten from the Women’s Center, and how many neurodivergent staff and faculty supported my events. I see you, and I appreciate you. I feel like the work I’m doing is deeply fulfilling, and I know that I wouldn’t have gotten as much headway without everyone.

Trained Specialists; both in SDS and for faculty and staff support

• Yes, working with neurodivergent students can be hard. Seeing the invisible struggles, while making sure people don’t ‘overuse’ or ‘abuse’ the supports is valid. Why not add people who know the details about neurodiversity? Who can support staff and faculty in supporting these students? Who can support SDS in navigating accommodations? Who can empower students to get what they need?

Open Dialogue

• Students need information. That’s why we’re students. Neurodivergent students especially. Let’s create conversations about neurodiversty. Change can’t happen without voices. Students don’t feel heard or respected. This is not anyone’s intention, but it is the impact. We can work together to fill in the rift.

Why is it that women are expected to take up as little space as possible? In elevators, we’re always in the corners making room for others. On crowded sidewalks, we’re the first to let others pass us. In our classrooms and offices, we observe without ever speaking up even when we’re qualified to do so. We speak only when spoken to, which is even more true for women of color. I often find myself sitting in the back of classrooms and not raising my hand unless absolutely necessary, especially in classes with white professors and majority white students. Many of them are conditioned to advocate for themselves, so they tend to be the most vocal. Because of this, I don’t feel like I can raise my hand in class, even when I want to. While it may not be because of social conditioning, it could be that people are just not cognizant of when to take up space or when not to.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with white students raising their voices, except for when it’s at the expense of students of color. Historically, people of color and especially women of color have been left out of academic spaces in the US. Further, our histories have been erased or “whitewashed” in academia, which is why it’s even more important to amplify the voices of students of color when it comes to discourse around our histories and the intersecting issues affecting our communities. A 2012 study from Smith College explored Black students’ silence in classrooms at predominantly white institutions, and found that teaching material that centered around European-American history and culture influenced the silence of Black students.

Implementing the “Step Up, Step Back” model can be effective in ensuring that students have a fair chance at participating in discussions. Stepping back calls us to provide space for others that are willing and able to step up, and not take away their opportunity to contribute. If you are in the position to step up, you should first be aware of whether there is anyone else who can or should be the one to step up in that situation, and encourage them to do so, or rather, give them the space to do it. The silence may be uncomfortable at first, but we must give ourselves and others time to process before we raise our hand. Stepping back allows us to listen to someone else’s perspective that we would miss if we only heard our own voice. It’s very important to take the time to learn other perspectives, especially at a diverse school like UMBC.

Professors also play a huge role in how comfortable students feel engaging in their classes. They can encourage student participation by diversifying their content and literature from different backgrounds. Most times, we read outdated texts and learn about theories from white people, when we could implement more scholarship from people of color. It’s important to learn about new narratives regarding marginalized communities, because it can be damaging when we only ever learn about the same stories over again. For example when we learn about Black history, the struggle narrative is perpetuated by more emphasis being placed on learning about slavery and the Jim Crow era, rather than stories about Black people thriving. When negative messaging about one group is taught while another group is glorified, students of color have a hard time connecting with the content.

UMBC is supposed to be a model for diversity and inclusivity, but it is lacking in its content. It isn’t until students of color feel seen and welcome in their classes, that the university can truly reflect the values that it stands for.

Accessibility and Disability Services and Student Disability Services joins The Mosaic Center and all UMBC partners with honoring Black History Month.

Rediscover how some members of the Black Civil Rights Movement also played essential roles as activists in the US Disability Rights Movement, and paved the way for disability rights activists to influence social change and legislation. Many people with disabilities were part of both movements and continue to be today.

Dr. Sami Schalk presented at UMBC less than a year ago on 504 and Beyond: Disability Politics and the Black Panther Partyvia the Dresher Center - the and co-sponsorship with ADS and I3B.

Why Black Disabled History Matters by Dikko Yusef of WID provides a great summary

Some of the intersectionality within the documentary  Crip Camp shows how intersectional being black and disabled can be - beyond the Black Panthers. Further back in history, learn new things about the famous Black figures who also had disabilities. For instance, Harriet Tubman lived with epilepsy and narcolepsy, a reminder that disability is both directly and indirectly linked to many forms of violence.

In the links described below, you may rediscover or learn for the first time about Black history  being made in this moment, and there is so much to learn from the past.  Research forays have been known to start at Brad Lomax, and end up at the Wild Zappers, a DC-based all black all deaf dance company - what new-to-you ancestral influencers and history-makers will become front-of-mind to you? The research of Dr. Stephanie Keeney Parks takes a racially nuanced approach to Autism via In A Different Key. In 2022 Megan Thee Stallion launched a website to support mental health.  Haben Girma remains an important advocate for disability inclusion.

Test your knowledge by taking this quiz with the National Black Disability Coalition (NBDC): (link)http://www.blackdisability.org/content/black-disabled-trivia

Important figures in Black History:

• National Disability Rights Network (NDRN) has a Black History Bio for each day of February: (link)https://www.ndrn.org/resource/disability-rights-in-black/
• On the website for Respect Ability, an advocacy organization, you can find an article featuring the experiences and voices of current African-American celebrities who have disabilities. (link)https://www.respectability.org/2018/02/highlighting-african-americans-disabilities-honor-black-history-month/
• Learn about Black History heroes who are or were deaf or blind: (link)https://dcmp.org/learn/203-black-history-month

·       Enter “Black History” plus any disability (i.e. "autism," "dyslexia," etc.) into a search engine and explore more about the intersectionality of disability.

Explore Black History and Disability Rights:

The National Center for Learning Disabilities (NCLD) has a great article about the integral role Black disability rights activists played in securing rights for all US citizens with disabilities.  (link)https://www.ncld.org/news/honoring-black-history-month-unsung-heroes-of-the-disability-rights-movement/ For more on Brad Lomax, a leader in the 1977 protests that led to the implementation of section 504 of the rehabilitation act, see this NYT obituary (link) https:/www.nytimes.com/2020/07/08/obituaries/brad-lomax-overlooked.html

Black Disabled and Proud: College Students with Disabilities is a website by the HBCU Disability Consortium. Their page titled “Black Lives Matter and Disability” speaks to the recent and daily making of Black history as it intersects with disability. (link)https://www.blackdisabledandproud.org/black-lives-matter.html The page includes links to thoughtful articles as well as self-care info.

The Disability Visibility Project’s Black Lives Matter page has podcasts (with transcripts) that explore the individual experiences of people who are actively contributing individually and/or organizing to raise awareness about being Black and having a  disability.  (link)https://disabilityvisibilityproject.com/tag/black-lives-matter/  Click through on the posts and find things like Jen White Johnson’s Black Disability Lives Matter mural (link)https://jenwhitejohnson.com/Black-Disabled-Lives-Matter-Mural-Project 

The Zinn Education Project offers Teach The Black Freedom Struggle classes with ASL and transcripts via this link - with the reminder that violence in any format may create disability. If you are looking for UMBC-based disability resources - use these links:

• Student Disability Services: For ALL students - graduate and undergraduate, as well as Information for Faculty working with student accommodations
• Accessibility and Disability Services: Work Accommodation for Faculty, Staff and Student Employees as well as technical accessibility support
• Report Accessibility Concerns online 24/7 here

Thumbnail image of two black young women with their hair in white headbands at a 1960's era protest  with one larger sign behind them reading "Martyr Medgar Evers" and a poem that begins "The Black Man Fell and helpless lay/ A Gaping Wound upon his back/ A Witness to the Savage Way/ A Beast Had Made His Foul Attack...." accompanies this post. Photo credit: Unseen Histories downloaded from Unsplash.com