By JoEllen Collins
Recently, I watched two non-escapist TV features. As both tugged at my heart, I am compelled to write about them. I maintain that the advent of television changed immensely the way we look at things; distrust about Vietnam grew as television showed what was really happening in contrast to political spin.
First, I viewed the August 28 reshowing of the great March on Washington when Martin Luther King Jr. shared “I have a dream” with thousands of peaceful marchers and audiences around the world. As I finished listening to his powerful speech, the camera panned over the audience singing “We Shall Overcome” together. I had forgotten the crowd consisted of both black and white people of all ages holding hands together in racial unity. My thoughts were mixed at that concluding sweep of film. I shed tears of joy for humanity’s progress, but I then was left with sadness. What has happened? Why had we not finished that great leap forward? Why, even now, are we still waiting for a happy landing?
My other TV experience, just last night, was watching a documentary on Netflix called “Crip Camp.” That title tuned me off at first, but I read that Barak and Michelle Obama co-produced this story of the origin of a civil rights movement for disabled people. It began with preserved footage of a Catskills summer camp intended solely for the handicapped with all sorts of disabilities, from polio to cerebral palsy and other disastrous events or illnesses. At first it was painful to see, like recalling the humiliating “freak shows” of Barnum & Bailey. I was uncomfortable watching these precious youngsters talk to each other, often laboriously, expressing what so many teenagers need: respect, independence, nonjudgmental friendship, affection, and privacy, as they were seldom alone. Several could barely speak, some so slowly that it required patience and empathy to understand. But their campmates and counselors always listened.
These kids were blessed by not experiencing the fate of most disabled youngsters of that era (the ’50s and ’60s). The documentary switched to showing the abandoned disabled, some sent from birth or early childhood, at a facility called Middletown, living a nightmare that even the worst purveyor of horror films could not match, a visual echo of Holocaust victims. Where is our humanity? The Catskill campers were at least better off than the hideously abused and neglected inmates.
Sometimes I wanted to tune off the film because I felt a bit like a voyeur watching intimate moments, but the rest of the film followed the courageous, often debilitating demonstrations and hard work of many of those now-grown campers, who forced our government to pass the Americans With Disabilities Act of 1990. This film is highly inspiring, even though we haven’t fully healed our relationships with this minority. In conclusion, Judith Haumann, a polio victim, former camper and successful teacher and leader, expressed pride in the progress of this social movement. She acknowledged that the disabled are still waiting for change, but it will only come from society.
Sounds familiar?