Were you involved in advocacy or political actions?
I asked the parents to describe how lack of meaningful programs drove them to start their own schools and parent groups and eventually advocate for educational rights. How did the parents get involved with a community of people who were concerned with disability issues? What did they consider activism? Did they think of themselves as activists? Would they have been involved in “political” work if their child did not have a disability? How did they go from unsuspecting parent to parent advocate? Every story describes some form of advocacy work and the various ways parents described their activism, from baking cakes and forming mother’s guilds to writing letters to congressmen and attending demonstrations at the state capitol. Many also described themselves as nonpolitical. One mother said, when asked this question, “I guess I had to have a reason to be an activist.” While it was not the intention of this project to study feminism and activism, it was another story lurking below the surface. Many of the “mothers” had defense related jobs during the war years, or had traveled across the country to secure jobs or an education. During the 1950s many women became homemakers, oftentimes reluctantly. Although their frustration in dealing with a system that excluded their child and the child’s welfare motivated them, many mothers said they also identified with and felt encouraged by the women’s movement. Many parents also identified strongly with the civil rights movement. Some expressed a feeling of optimism after World War II, which encouraged them to try and to make things happen for all their children.
Reflections on the past and future visions.
Every parent was asked to reflect on whether the world today is a different place for people with disabilities—and to envision the future. While most agreed that advances had been made in education, housing, and public attitudes toward disability, almost all had apprehensions for the future. They fear a change in attitude, which might affect public policy and funding for much needed community services and facilities. Their experience has taught them that when the economy suffers the first programs to be cut are those for people with disabilities. They all described their struggle as ongoing.
Family background
I asked each family where they were from and how long they had lived in Seattle. I was interested in the parents’ professional backgrounds and their awareness of their economic prospects in the 1950s and ‘60s. I also asked how the parents had met and what, if any, wartime experiences they had. Over half of the families migrated from elsewhere, choosing the Northwest because of economic opportunity. Almost all of the parents met and married during the war years or just after. Disability cuts across class and economic boundaries, so the entire group represents a range of economic and social backgrounds. To allow the stories to flow and center on the disability experience, I included information on the family background selectively in the text of the story and alluded to it in the selection of photographs.
The Book’s Organization
All the family interviews meandered through the same question areas, although the book is organized into five sections. Each section emphasizes a separate theme.
“About Children” presents the family situation. It is organized chronologically, with the first child in the book being born in 1936. It concentrates on how the families came to know of their child’s disability, how they coped, and the choices they made. The stories also chronicle the child’s life experience. This section also includes two families who placed their child in institutional care and the circumstances that led them to the decision. The individuals interviewed are Marcella Nelson and her daughters Linda Nelson and Nina Seaberg, Katie Dolan, Mary and Susan Saffioles, Helen Pym, and Joan Werner.
“About Schools” concentrates on the ways parents became motivated to search for and create educational programs for their children. It also gives a picture of the ways the parents went from isolation to grass-roots activism. Janet Taggart and Evelyn Chapman are two of the four mothers who authored Education for All. Mary Hiramatsu was a teacher in one of the first parent-run schools. Robert Bass was a civil rights advocate and school principal who championed desegregation for both Black Americans and handicapped children. Nadean Bass was an educator and active in the Seattle Mother’s Guilds.
“Education for All” chronicles the passage of the 1971 Washington State law that served as a precursor to the federal Education for All Handicapped Children Act in 1975 (IDEA, 1990). It describes how Cecile Lindquist, Evelyn Chapman, Janet Taggart, and Katie Dolan emerged from a grassroots national movement of parents advocating for their children’s rights. They describe how they built their connections in the community, how they learned to strategize, research, write, and utilize each of their unique skills to author and lobby successfully for a piece of legislation. It also includes reflections by disability lawyer William Dussault—enlisted to work on the committee when he was a law student—on the history of discrimination against people with disabilities in America.
“About Citizens” concentrates on adults with disabilities—where they live, their jobs, how they function in everyday life, and their prospects for the future. In this section the parents and family members reflect upon the many achievements for people with disabilities of the past 50 years—in education, work, housing, transportation, and personal achievement. They also reflect on the growth of the disability movement and the work yet to be done. The individuals interviewed are Vivian and Marie Strausbaugh, Doreen and Lance Peake, Myrtle, Bob, and Sherry McNary, and Dorothy, Dwight, and Sharon Gowdey. The family stories end with Sharon Gowdey reflecting on her life, work, and future.
The timeline enfolding the body of the book is a visual contemplation of the connectedness of official and unofficial histories. It is a conceptual visualization of the historical process. It sets experienced history—imagery developed during a community/history workshop—within a web of historical events, philosophies, and political movements. It suggests the entangled nature of history and everyday life. It also encourages the idea that the disability experience is a core element of the ongoing struggle for liberty and citizenship.
Visual Documents/The Family Archive
The story, and politics, of this community begin in the very space of domestic life. Families were interviewed in their homes. Each chapter is a braided narrative combining recollections of individual experience, photographs, and selections from the family’s private collection of snapshots, articles, letters, institutional documents, and mementos. Families were invited to share any piece of “personal history” they thought relevant to retell the story of life with a child with a disability. Often I was given a tour of the home from the perspective of where photos were placed on the wall, in a hallway or room, or taped to a refrigerator. Family collections come in interesting packages: paper bags, shoe boxes, albums, drawers—they were pulled from closets, garages, attics, or directly from the wall or dresser where they were being displayed. Sometimes they were organized and labeled, mostly they were not. Many times materials were sent to me later and often I was invited to return when an article or album was discovered that “might help me.” While I combined my investigations with readings on many related topics including the history of disability, disability studies, and education, this document’s “presentation” concentrates on the materials and recollections the families provided me. I am interested in the ways every household is a repository of past experiences—an “informal” archive of past and present intermingled. I was also interested in ways I might elevate this informal method of retrieving information—directly from the domestic space where it was enacted—and reassemble it as a flow of historical knowledge.
While human memory is fraught with inaccuracy, distortion and subjectivity, many of the details