Sunday Roundup - Comedy, Abortion, Blood Libel

This week I wrote about Down syndrome in two context: abortion issues and comedy. Many thousands of people read my CNN piece on Down syndrome and comedy. I am deeply impressed by Wyatt Cenac's willingness to call me and talk at length about the bit and his approach to comedy. To me, it's what resolution looks like, even if NPR is unlikely to take the piece down (as requested by the parent who alerted me to the issue). I like resolution, in part because it's so rare.

Speaking of issues I'd like to see resolved, but without much hope, there's this piece from David Sedaris that contains some exceptionally offensive depictions of people with developmental disabilities. It was recorded in 1996, but re-broadcast in 2013. What obligations does This American Life have? To never rebroadcast? To put up a warning notice (as they do when they use racially offensive language or talk about sex in their pieces).

Earlier in the week, I got a comment from a reader that she wouldn't waste time thinking before she aborted a fetus with Down syndrome. I offered the best response that I could, suggesting some ways that this type of eugenic principle ought to be rethought.

Finally, a Hamas spokesman recycled the medieval Blood Libel myth on Al Quds, the Lebanese TV station. He said, "we remember," and then "it's a fact," on a station dedicated to the memory of Islamic Jerusalem. As a medieval historian of memory and myth, I was horrified, but thought it was important to comment.

Thanks for reading and have a great Sunday.

The Blood Libel: Medieval England and Hamas last week.

Crucifixion of William of Norwich,
Holy Trinity church, Loddon, Norfolk

As a historian, I work on narrative, memory, and myth. I'm interested in how people respond to events by creating new stories or re-interpreting old ones, applying a narrative lens to the world around them. I have a specific focus on the 13th-century Mediterranean, but I believe my interest transcends period and place. I think that the stories we tell are at least as important as the things we do, because story shapes action. That's why I'm a historian.

Here's a very grim piece on the "blood libel" myth and how it's being used today.

As detailed in the article, it's a medieval myth that Jews murder children and use their blood to bake into matzoh. It's often been used to justify violence against Jews over the centuries, after it emerged in medieval Norwich. I remember teaching the myth to my students once and their response was, "oh my god, this is true!" I quickly told them no, but somehow it seemed plausible to some. It's had a kind of power that resonates far, far, beyond its original context, being twisted and re-used for each new moment in which hatred of the Jews seems useful.

I was distressed to read the following [my emphasis]:

Last week a video of Hamas spokesman Osama Hamdan emerged in which he claimed that Jews use the blood of non-Jewish children to make matzo for Passover.

The translation of Hamdan’s interview with the Lebanese television station Al-Quds on July 28 reports him as saying:

"We all remember how the Jews used to slaughter Christians, in order to mix their blood in their holy matzos. This is not a figment of imagination or something taken from a film. It is a fact, acknowledged by their own books and by historical evidence. It happened everywhere, here and there."

When confronted about his statements by CNN's Wolf Blitzer on Monday, Hamdan did not retract his claim or distance himself from the blood libel slur. His only defense was that he “has Jewish friends."

So there's the blood libel, presented as simple fact. I wouldn't be surprised if this spokesman is also a Holocaust denier, as that tends to go with the other positions as well, but I don't know.

The thing that is undeniably true in his statement, though, is that many people do remember the blood libel. Memory lies, moves, shifts, warps, twists, reshapes, and emerges again at unexpected moments. People remember and they believe that what they remember must be true. And of course, from "remember" to "fact" on a station called al Quds, the Arabic name for Jerusalem, and today a name that symbolizes the Islamic claim to ownership over the city.

Sure, Hamdan might be lying just to score rhetorical points on Lebanese television, but at least some of the people to whom he speaks will not know that, or will not want to know that. They will believe because believing works for them at this time.

I am very critical of the Israeli assault on Gaza. I don't want that critique, however, to override the awfulness of antisemitism or the way that Hamas, already a organization dedicated to hate, is using this moment to intensify the hatred of the Jews in the region and the world.

These are dangerous times.  Here's what Ross and Baden write:

As Osama al-Baz, an adviser to former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, observed in 2013, some “Arab writers and media figures … attack Jews on the basis of … racist fallacies and myths that originated in Europe.”

Hamas may be doing no more than repeating tired cultural clichés and long-debunked slander, but myth and action go together. The history of Europe is a testimony to the devastating power of the blood libel.

People and cultures are defined by the myths they create, but also by the myths they accept and propagate.

From myth to action. Obviously, actions matter a lot. But the stories we tell, the myths we create and spread, they have intense power to motivate us for good and for ill.

And in the story of the blood libel, no one gets out alive.

This American Life and the R-word - a 2013 Re-broadcast of a cruel joke from 1996

Yesterday, I published a piece on CNN focusing on an episode from This American Life that, I felt, mocked people with Down syndrome. What was interesting to me, though, is that the comedian in question (Wyatt Cenac) wasn't just telling jokes using the r-word, but had something more complex going on. As a listener, it felt like he was trying to both tell the joke while avoiding controversy for using the joke, and I thought that was worth exploring. After the piece was published, Cenac called me and we talked for a long time, which I summarized here.

I was deeply impressed with his willingness to engage, to discuss, to explain, to listen, and I left the conversation feeling pretty good about things. I still stand by my experience of listening to the piece as genuine, but intention does matter.

Tom Delaney, a parent of a child with Down syndrome, emailed me, though, about another complex case of upsetting speech on This American Life. I'm just going to quote from his letter. It was written after a 1996 show (episode 47) re-aired in 2013:

I am writing this letter with a heavy heart. I am a huge fan of NPR and PRI. Every Saturday I look forward to hearing the variety of programs offered. I have always found comfort in the political views, satire, and social-conscious commentary offered on WBEZ.

This Saturday I was running errands and listening to “This American Life” with Ira Glass. David Sedaris (whom I LOVE) was telling a wonderful story entitled “Christmas Freud.” I was engrossed in the story and vividly immersed into his experience as a Christmas Elf at Macy’s. I will never forget hearing this story…or… the street I was on, the car I was driving, the time of day, the weather, the stores to the left and right of me, the coat I was wearing; I will remember everything about the moment I heard…

“At noon, a large group of retarded people came to visit Santa and passed me on my little island. These people were profoundly retarded. They were rolling their eyes and wagging their tongues and staggering towards Santa. It was a large group of retarded people and, after seeing them for 15 minutes, I could not begin to guess where the retarded people ended and the regular New Yorkers began. Everyone looks retarded once you've set your mind to it.”

I cannot explain my reaction to hearing this in any other way than to say that I felt like I was punched in the gut. I suddenly could not breathe, I had to pull over the side of the road, I turned off the radio, and then I cried. I cried so hard because I have been waiting for this moment for 6 years. I have been waiting for someone to overtly make a discriminatory comment that shook me to my core.

I have a son with Down syndrome. He is beautiful, loved, loving, and a valuable person to everyone who meets him. When he was born I knew that someday I would hear people make hurtful comments about him.

I know this story was written in 1996 and re-aired this weekend. When I came home and shared this experience with my husband we looked up the transcripts. I am baffled at how my beloved NPR would not recognize the insensitivity of the comments in this section of this story.

 I know that gut-punch feeling. You've got your head on swivel, waiting for the harassment, waiting for the problems, and they just don't come. We've made so many strides in society in terms of overt harassment. As I wrote for CNN:

The good news is that in recent years, sustained awareness campaigns against dehumanizing speech, coupled with some 20 years of inclusive education since the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act in 1990, have made things a lot better in America. No one is likely to call my son the r-word to his face.

And yet, when the blow comes, it hits sharp and hard.

I think David Sedaris is often both profound and hilarious. I love This American Life. As a historian, I work on the way humans craft stories about their experience and release them into cultures, tracking ripples and aftershocks of acts of narrative innovation. As Ira Glass point out, they have also done really good episodes on Down syndrome.:  Episode #311  and Episode #358. NPR, in general, has a commitment to inclusivity that I value so deeply and that is rare in the media world.

Moreover, 1996 really was a long time ago in terms of the discourse of disability. It's not that the r-word didn't hurt people against whom it was wielded, but general awareness of that fact had not yet permeated the culture.

My question is this - what obligations do the producers of This American Life have when re-broadcasting something like this. A warning up front? Bleeping the r-word? To simply not broadcast this Sedaris bit ever again? I mean, the "rolling their eyes and wagging their tongues and staggering" is pretty terrible caricature and some bleeping isn't going to fix that. This is not about policing the r-word, but something much deeper in the humor.

Like Cenac, Sedaris might claim this was his authentic experience using authentic language from the era, but I just don't think that holds up in this case. In many ways, comparing Cenac's careful piece drawing the distinction between his imagined Down syndrome and the real thing shows how far we've come, when compared to Sedaris' lines.

I don't know the answer here. My gut says, this piece is dead. You can't play it to an informed audience and expect it to have a positive result, to make people laugh. The joke - New Yorkers look like retards - simply doesn't play anymore.

Jokes fade. Stories fade. Sometimes, the bias implicit in a story is so powerful, so central, that it will no longer have its intended effect. I think that's the case here.

I have reached out to This American Life for comment and will, of course, post any followups.

NOTE: Comments welcome. As always, people being rude to my readers get deleted without further warning.

A Conversation with Wyatt Cenac

After my latest CNN piece on Down syndrome and comedy was published, Wyatt Cenac reached out to me and we had a long conversation. I had tried to reach him through his official emails previously, but it didn't get through (which I regret). It was a good talk and I think the context is interesting.

First, though, I need to issue a public apology for comparing Wyatt Cenac to "Derek" by Ricky Gervais. Cenac is much funnier than Gervais, to my subjective taste. Moreover, Cenac's engagement with the disability here is much more redeemable (and interesting, which is why I focused on it) than the portrayal of Derek. I have nothing good to say about Derek from a disability-portrayal lens. I know people like it. I know they cry. I'll be happy to argue with you about why Derek is so bad in another thread.

Here's what we talked about. Paraphrasing mostly, with permission from Cenac.

In our conversation, Cenac acknowledged that for someone like me, inside the Down syndrome community, the piece could easily have come off as offensive. Most comedy risks being offensive, but his goal is never to do it "at the expense" of marginalized people or "in a way that promotes continued insensitive behavior." He talked about his experiences, as a kid, hearing people make a joke at the expense of a group of people, and thinking, "what would they be saying if I wasn't in the room?" He doesn't want to make those kinds of jokes and it definitely wasn't his goal here. 

Intention matters. Results also matter and the results here were not good from my perspective, but I'm really glad that Cenac called me to provide the key context for the bit.

Cenac's real intention was to make fun of himself for being a total screw-up. Not only was his life falling apart, but he couldn't even escape reality by taking pot! Instead, it made him even more paranoid and depressed about the state of his life. When he ate the pot brownie, he suddenly couldn't talk normally, and he literally had the thought, "I have given myself Down syndrome." He felt he had now acquired some kind of disability and who, given his life's context, would take care of him!

We agreed that in the short piece (as opposed to his longer stage shows), it's possible that the total disaster of his life - losing a job, no money, no prospects - got lost behind the simpler humor of a funny voice and the audience laughing.

I have broad writing interests in the meaning of words, but especially the meaning of words related to disability. I wrote in my CNN piece, using the Gammy story from Thailand as a hook (a necessary part of essay publishing):

"Over the last few days, a baby boy with Down syndrome named Gammy has been all over the news. He and his twin sister were born to a surrogate mother in Thailand, but allegedly when their Australian parents discovered the boy's genetic condition, they left him behind. To the biological parents, it seems, the words "Down syndrome" meant that he was not worth being their son."

What's so interesting to me about the Cenac story is that for him, in his dark moment, the words "Down syndrome" popped into his head. I do not blame Cenac for that. It's what genuinely happened. It shows something about the work to be done in changing the meaning of the words "Down syndrome," in shifting perceptions. That's work I want to do on my blog, in my public writing, in my life.

At the end, as I told Cenac, I'm not sure this is a joke that can be told without offending someone like me, at least not as currently structured where the voice carries the humor. He's a pro, though, and after our long conversation I have no doubt about his goodwill. I understand now where he was going and how the piece was supposed to work. I believe he also understands how I experienced the bit.

From a position of mutual understanding, many things become possible.

Wyatt Cenac and This American Life - Mocking Down Syndrome

I have a piece up on CNN today about comedy and disability, focusing on an episode of This American Life. I'm interested in the use of disclaimers, something I've talked about before, as a way to try to escape the consequences of one's words. I know some will disagree. They'll say it's just comedy. Or he didn't mean to be offensive. I'll have more to say about that tomorrow.

Here are some resources, such as the transcript and Ira Glass' response to a parent who wrote him. That parent is named Julie Ross, and I am giving the rest of my blog space to her, so that she can fully articulate her position. Comments are welcome, but people who get nasty to Julie will find themselves deleted promptly. No warning.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Open Letter to Ira Glass, Senior Producer of This American Life

RE: “I Was So High” Episode #524

My husband and I always enjoy listening to This American Life (TAL). A few weeks ago, our family was listening to the broadcast, including my younger daughter who has Down syndrome. Episode #524 was like most: entertaining, thought provoking, and amusing. We were laughing up until we heard comedian Wyatt Cenac say “Down syndrome” –we feared how it would be discussed in the context of drug abuse. In his segment of the show, Cenac describes an incident where he ate a marijuana-laden brownie. He becomes so intoxicated that he cannot speak coherently, compulsively uses the bathroom and his thinking becomes disorganized and paranoid.

I anticipated hearing the R-word, Retard (a slur and term of derision). But Cenac was choosing his words carefully; he stopped short of using the R-word. He describes being so inebriated he fears he’s “grown an extra chromosome” and has acquired “adult-onset Down syndrome”.

Transcript (excerpt):

And I did it in that voice. And I have never done that voice before in my life. I don't know where that voice came from. But I heard myself use that voice. And in my mind, I went, oh [BLEEP]. I just gave myself Down Syndrome.

[LAUGHTER]

The butt of the joke is not the drug abuser or drug abuse in general, but instead people with intellectual disability (ID). The punch line of his monologue is having Down syndrome.

Cenac didn’t have to drag people with ID into his bit. He could’ve claimed he feared brain damage or memory loss as a result of drug abuse. Instead Cenac chose to mention Down syndrome (Ds): a genetic condition coupled with distinct physical traits, cognitive & developmental implications, and co-occurring health conditions that set people with Ds apart as a specific entity. And even though Cenac avoids using the R-word, he tries to hide behind the medical label “Ds” – believing it’s a safe, politically correct way to deliver an insult. As historian and author James W. Trent, Jr. writes (from Inventing the Feeble Mind: A History of Mental Retardation in the U.S.):

These words – idiot and imbecile, feebleminded, moron, defective and the like – are today offensive to us, and yet they reveal in their honesty the sensibilities of the people who used them and the meanings they attached to mental retardation…More recently, the mentally retarded have become mentally retarded persons and…persons with developmental disabilities…

Behind these awkward new phrases, however, the gaze we turn on those we label mentally retarded continues to be informed by the long history of condescension, suspicion, and exclusion. While our contemporary phrases appear more benign, too often we use them to hide from the offense in ways that the old terms did not permit [emphasis mine].

Furthermore, Cenac must have known he was approaching a controversial subject because he makes an awkward attempt at a disclaimer, offering his synopsis of Down syndrome:

             Transcript (excerpt):

(NORMAL VOICE) Now let me just say, I know what Down Syndrome is. I know that Down Syndrome is something that you're born with when you are born with an extra chromosome. I know all that information. I knew that information then. But something about eating this [pot] brownie made me think that somehow I had grown an extra chromosome and I now had adult-onset Down Syndrome.

[LAUGHTER]

For Cenac and his audience (people without Ds) the thought of having an intellectual disability is “terrible” however oblivious to the sufferers themselves. It’s clear that the brunt of his joke is people with Down syndrome: the mentally retarded. The reason his audience and Wyatt himself find this story amusing is because in the end, thankfully he isn’t one of THEM. He is one of US: the mentally accelerated.

            Transcript (excerpt):

And for people who have Down Syndrome, it's something they grow up with. And they grow up and they have healthy and happy lives. I just got it.

Nevertheless it is Cenac’s own freak-out that delivers the value judgment. It’s clear that having Ds is something dreadful, something to weep over and worthy of total panic.

Transcript (excerpt):

[LAUGHTER]

And I start freaking out. I'm just like, I'm going to have to explain this to people. And I start panicking. And I just start freaking out, freaking out to the point where I start weeping in the middle of Dodger Stadium.

This negative view of ID stands in spite of any claims he makes about overall positive outcomes or attributes of Down syndrome. Is the audience supposed to ignore Cenac’s dramatic reaction and horror at the thought of living with ID, and instead accept his blanket assertion that intellectual disability is otherwise okay for those “born with it” –and presumably living happily? His description of Down syndrome is notable only because it is a disclaimer used to shield himself from criticism for mocking persons with ID. I’m also not impressed with Cenac’s general opinion (informed by what, if any, anecdote or evidence Cenac fails to mention) of the collective health and quality of life for a large, diverse group of persons. And while his statement about Ds isn’t unfavorable as an assertion, it is of little consolation in light of his personal disdain for ID.

This stuff is no joke: it isn’t a stretch of the imagination to call it hate speech when persons of privileged status denigrate and malign a group of people of lesser social status/power. Clearly there is pronounced power inequality between Cenac (presumably non-disabled) and people with Ds (having an intellectual disability). People with ID do not possess an equal measure of access, power, respect, and privilege that Cenac enjoys. People with ID are often denied civil rights including quality education, the vote, marriage, employment, reproductive rights, and the opportunity to live independently in their own communities. We envision full civil rights, access, and power for people with ID, but this is not yet a reality. Therefore, when Cenac impersonates and mocks ID– it’s not humor or entertainment; it’s derisive and discriminatory speech.

I’d expect to see Cenac’s monologue on Bill Maher’s show (he’s no stranger to alienating audiences and perpetuating certain stereotypes) -but not on public radio. I’m not asking Wyatt Cenac to edit himself or curb his free speech– his own prejudices and perspectives seem clear and I doubt my words would convince him. I am however reaching out to TAL and Chicago Public Media because I’m aware of its mission, my local NPR station included, and its aim to serve a greater good. I can’t seem to reconcile the desire to foster community with contemplative commentary and conversation while broadcasting Cenac’s disparaging monologue. I hope you agree that jokes about having Ds and impersonations of people with ID are objectionable; TAL should immediately remove this segment from the episode.

If, however, you decide to continue to air this segment, perhaps you can help answer a question I’ve been wrestling with. As I mentioned, my family listened to Cenac’s monologue live on air that day. My question is: How would you, a parent of a child with Down syndrome, explain to your kids why having Ds is “horrible” or funny?

I believe it is neither.

Best regards,

Julie Ross

\

Telling the Sibling - Collecting Stories

On Sunday, my daughter and I went out to go grocery shopping while Nico and my wife did things around the house. As we drove by the local high-school, my daughter, 5, said, “If we still live here that will be my highschool someday!”

“That’s right,” I replied, “And you will be able to walk or bike there, or maybe even drive when you are old enough.”

She said, “Or my big brother Nico can drive me! Because he’s going to go there too and he’s older than me, so he’ll be able to drive first.”

The words struck me hard. Nico, of course, has Down syndrome. He may well learn to drive someday, but it's not very likely that he'll be driving his sister to school at age 16. This conversation was, to me, a sign that soon I was going to have to talk to Ellie about her brother's diagnosis. In a few weeks, they start school again, and for the first time will be in the same building. The other kids will talk about "special needs." Who knows what the other kids will say. Ellie needs to be ready.

It's not like she doesn't have a clue. We've had the "Nico has to work hard to learn to talk," conversation, in regards to therapy. But Nico is not medically complex, as these things go, so our lives together have not been permeated with lots and lots of doctor visits and hospitalizations, events that might have forced this conversation earlier. Ellie has never asked, "what's wrong with Nico," or "why can't he really talk yet." Life with Nico is normal, the only life she's ever known, and it's a damn good life. And yet, it's time. She's ready.

In a few days or weeks, I'll share our conversation. First, though, I'd like to hear from all the other parents who have faced this moment. What did you say? How did it go? Let me know here in comments, on twitter, via email (lollardfish At gmail), on my public Facebook page. 

Thank you.

"Daddy's Money" - A line of shoes for tween girls.

This is from Sketchers. It's called "Gimme Kisses" from the brand line "Daddy's Money." If you look closely, you can see a $ and the word Daddy above the laces. This one is called "Cha-Ching" is a pretty good looking shoe. The one covered in bling is "Gimme megabucks."

Why yes, I am writing an essay on gender norming and consumerism right now, why do you ask? 

"I wouldn't waste time thinking before terminating a Down syndrome pregnancy."

Last week I wrote an essay on the way elements of the right-wing are trying to use prenatal testing as a wedge issue in the abortion wars. Among other pieces, I wrote:

What they should ALSO do, however, is to offer complete information that will help people make informed decisions - decisions that will, I hope, result in lowering the rate of abortions.

The comment came from Ivyfree and I thought was interesting enough, and upsetting enough, that it merited its own post:

None of which will do anything because right-wingers are mortally opposed to providing financial help for programs that will assist the parents in coping with a child whose capabilities may be near-normal to requiring total care for their entire life, which may extend for years after the deaths of the parents.

However, many women will still choose to abort, no matter what assistance is available. Because nobody, during pregnancy, prays for a child with Down syndrome no matter how much of a blessing they claim s/he is later. Everyone prays for a healthy baby. Given the choice, that's what most people will choose. I'm not making a moral judgment here. I would certainly terminate a Down pregnancy myself, and I wouldn't waste much time thinking about it.

Dear Ivyfree,

Thank you for your comment. I always appreciate it when people offer dissenting opinions. You hit on a few key issues, but I want to say first that the end of your comment fills me with sadness. It's a viewpoint that renders my son less than human, my son's life worthless. Moreover, the eugenic mentality it betrays is pretty upsetting when you push it to its logical conclusion. I'll say more about that in a moment.

Let's start by looking at the right-wing. In fact, this is something of a wedge issue among the right. Many believe strongly in robust social programs for the disabled. What is less common is to believe that the government should provide such program, believing, I think mistakenly, in the power of charitable giving. Charity is great, but it can only handle the easy cases - the cute (like my son), the moderately well-functioning, the not-so-expensive. If you look at disability-related bills that do pass even our paralyzed Congress, there's widespread bipartisan agreement that people with disabilities, especially disabilities like Down syndrome, deserve help.

The question is what kind of help and who should get it. There's a hierarchy of disability - my son is honestly pretty high up, since he's cute and not medically expensive (this is generally true for Down syndrome). Others are not so lucky. Moreover, when discussing social services (and social security), there's a general attempt to divide and conquer. Republican lawmakers say to old (esp white) people - YOU deserve social security, but not those moochers. They say to families like mine (and Sarah Palin's) - YOUR son deserves benefits, but not those other disabled people who are just lazy fakers.

It's not that we don't need more robust programs - we do. Better funding for special ed. Massive new social programs for adults once they age out of school (a big writing topic for me in the months to come). Respite care for parents. Whole life services. Caring homes and institutions for those who know it.

I've been writing about this since my first essay on Down syndrome, written back in 2008. We can't just write about the prenatal world and abortion - and I don't. I wrote:

Choosing life is not about what happens in utero, but about what follows. Choosing life is about knowledge. It's about training doctors and nurses how to talk to expectant parents. Most of all, it's about providing an antidote to fear by changing the perception of disability. 

What I want is a serious national conversation about raising children with disabilities -- the way that government, schools, churches, doctors, HMOs, and most of all friends and families can help us. My wife, son and I belong to three or four support groups, have four early intervention therapies a week in our home, go to a weekly group therapy and are about to start aquatic therapy. We have four doctors and will probably have more before too long. We've got thousands of challenges ahead of us -- but what parent doesn't? Let's talk about the federal mandates that order, but do not fund, early intervention. Let's talk about universal health care and special education. Let's talk about how to help our children find meaningful lives as adults. Most of all, let's talk about ways to ensure that everyone sees people with Down syndrome as, first and foremost, just people. Then we can get to work on the syndrome.

I stand by those words. They have guided my public voice on Down syndrome ever since.

Unfortunately - I don't think you see people with Down syndrome as people. Not really. Not fully. The idea of having an abortion without wasting time thinking about it, due to a pre-natal diagnosis, may be honest, but it's also cruel to say and eugenic in its essence. I find the eugenic frame of mind frightening. As the future becomes the present, we are going to have more and more information about our unborn children. What conditions would you abort? Which ones not? These are very complicated decisions. As I write, the pre-natal testing world for Down syndrome is a test run for the future of human procreation, and it's one I think we're failing.

Moreover, I feel like you could use some information in the whole-picture pro-information world. For example, you write, "Everyone prays for a healthy baby." Well, my son was a healthy baby. He also has Down syndrome. In fact, we have no idea about the true capacity of people with Down syndrome, but I can tell you that thirty years ago no one would have expected so many people to be living long, healthy, productive lives. The future for Down syndrome is actually pretty bright.

Despite this, having a child with Down syndrome can be hard. The diagnosis is frightening (here's my story). I understand people who collect all the information, think about the circumstances of their lives, and decide that they just can't go through with the pregnancy. I will fight to make sure they have the right and access to abortion. If you became pregnant and decided to have an abortion, I would understand that too.

But I hope you would spend some time thinking hard about it, and thinking about what such a decision might or might not mean.

Again, thanks for the comment.

EDIT: A friend of mine who has a medically-complex child with Down syndrome, suggested it would be helpful to add: "Sure everyone wants a healthy baby, but a lot of families of kids with serious health problems also find a lot of joy in living, and that's worth understanding before you make a decision about abortion." She's totally right. In fact, that's one of the deep lessons of life with disability - a life that doesn't fit our plan, our vision of what "should" be, turns out to be filled with joy. 

Sunday Roundup: Prenatal testing and TASERs.

I've been busy researching several new pieces this week so the blogging has been a bit light. That's likely to continue next week as well. Bear with me! Good stuff is coming.

The most important piece I wrote this week was about the efforts of a radical right-wing group to use Down syndrome prenatal testing as a wedge issue in the abortion wars. They do not care about living people with Down syndrome. They do not care about parents. They do not care about schools, inclusion, ABLE, or anything else - just wedge issues and abortion. They threaten the existence of the pro-information coalition. 

I had two pieces on TASERS - one general, one about Toronto, and another about police violence and the deaf. I am, in general, increasingly skeptical of CIT training and awareness efforts to protect the disabled. Police culture needs to change.

Finally, a thought or two about writing and the internet (and music). I am grateful for you, my readers, whether you are silent, a frequent commentator, or a writer yourself. The online community sustains my efforts. 

TASERs in Toronto

Everybody pay attention to these next two sentences, ok?

If your police force is shooting too many people, TASERs are not the solution. The solution is not to shoot people except in dire circumstances.

Thank you for paying attention.

Last week, a major report came out in Toronto as a result of the death of Sammy Yatim. There are 84 recommendations and you can read them all here. Among them is the following, as covered by the press:

The report urges a pilot project to study whether first responders – the front-line officers most likely to encounter people in crisis – should have tasers, which advocates say allow police to gain control of difficult situations without drawing their guns. Currently, only Toronto Police supervisors and tactical officers carry the devices.

However, in treading cautiously on the issue, Mr. Iacobucci recommended that officers who use tasers also be issued monitoring technology such as body-worn cameras. He also urged Toronto Police to advocate for studies on the medical effects of tasers, which detractors warn can be unsafe in certain circumstances, and help create a national database on their use.

There's a lot of good things in the report. The "zero death" goal is excellent, as that, indeed, should be the goal of our police forces.

And TASERs are fine as a tool for the police. U.S. experience shows, though, that when you give cops TASERs, they use them all the time. If you make the ubiquitous in Canada, unless you also build rigorous guidelines and prosecute those who break the guidelines, they will become the low-stakes default, as if shooting something with 40,000 volts of screaming agony isn't serious.

Good luck Canada. I hope you handle this better than we have.