I can't think of a better example of this than my own mentor through the social work and disability world than my first social work supervisor and boss, Linda. Linda's guidance and advocacy has not only given me professional consul and direction, she proved to be an amazing example of what a disability ally can be.
In May 2013, I was a part-time graduate student at the USC School of Social Work looking for places to practice the craft I was learning. In my search, my therapist suggested I contact to one of her colleagues who worked at an organization specializing in serving developmentally disabled people. When I called the therapist in question, she had moved on to private practice but she suggested I call a woman named Linda. I got a hold of Linda and we agreed to meet at a synagogue that hosted the organization's social skills and support groups. We sat on a bench outside the synagogue’s classrooms and I told her about my interests in volunteering with them and my goals as a social worker in advocating and working with the developmentally disabled. And in a random slip of the tongue, I disclosed my own autism diagnosis to her.
I don’t know how the words “I’m autistic” left my mouth in that first meeting. These were two words I had spent a lifetime avoiding saying unless in the direst of circumstances. Yet I told a complete stranger it on the fly while trying to sell myself as a volunteer. As soon as I said it, I immediately was struck with terror with how Linda would receive it.
That accidental disclosure turned out to be the best thing I ever did. And it was because Linda decided to take a chance on me.
Linda listened to my interests as a volunteer and I took to the placements assigned to me to heart. I assisted in group therapy, I supported adult transition staff in their young adult program, and took care of any office work needed. I threw all I had into every assigned task and getting to know everyone in the organization from staff to clients. And through my work, Linda allowed me to intern there for my final year of grad school and guided me through the programming, administrative, and advocacy elements of social work I focused my studies in. Linda took me through all the services the organization offers, let me help create new ones, communicate with large systems, plan and administer conferences, and took me to regional center meetings to learn about laws, policies, and practices of the world they are part of and encouraged me to take every leadership opportunity possible. And after all of that, she hired me after I graduated in 2015 to continue the work she trusted me with.
Like many autistic people, I spent a lifetime feeling I’ve had to battle the world to have a place in it. Even with supportive parents and teachers, I felt I needed to go above and beyond for a place at the table inherently off-limits to me. And I fundamentally believed I couldn’t count on anyone to understand my wants or needs and outright dismiss me for even having needs. Linda directly challenged all my preconceptions by letting me in. She challenged them by giving me a chance. She challenged them by listening to me. And she challenged them by inherently believing I have the potential to do what I want and be who I want to be.
Linda has since retired from the agency and now supervises me as I work towards obtaining my social work license. She continues to guide me as both an individual practitioner and as an advocate.
When people talk about disability acceptance, there is a tendency for the non-disabled to verbally agree with it but failing to actually execute it. Even those with the best intentions can sometimes make assumptions about how much ability a disabled person has and indirectly limit them based on it. Linda is not one of those people. When Linda talks about accepting the disabled, she acts on it. She knows every person is a complex human being and is worthy of respect, dignity, and having the ability to be the best they can be. My relationship with her is my greatest proof of that.
I owe so much to Linda and am greatly indebted to her. I hope I can be as giving and carry on her legacy in my own work.
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