Uninvited. Again.

I’m getting tired of being uninvited.

The first time this happened was when I was an eager M.A. graduate student, new to my academic discipline and flush with success from my first experience of filing an ADA complaint with the US Department of Justice. A professor in my department told me about a local academic conference in my field and suggested I attend. I filled out my application, popped it into the mail, and waited to hear from the conference organizers about arranging accommodations for communication access.

After a few weeks, I started to get concerned. I hadn’t heard anything from the conference organizers, so I followed up by e-mail. Their response was decidedly mixed. First, I was told that since I was not a member of the organization, they would not provide accomodations. When I pointed out that I had paid the member fees along with my registration fees, they told me they’d get back to me. Less than a week later, I was told that I could not attend the conference. The letter was signed by a graduate student who was helping to organize the conference.

I figured this was a mistake. Maybe the graduate student did not understand the legal implications of what he had done by “uninviting” me, but surely the people in charge (whoever they were) would understand that this was not appropriate on a number of levels. Wouldn’t a professional organization using the word “ethics” in its name and identifying itself as focused on an inclusive creed of compassion think carefully about the moral implications of telling a graduate student with a disability that she was not welcome? (Trust me, this organization was not aware of the Deaf/disability debate, and would have framed this entirely in terms of disability). Less important, from my view, was the fact that they were likely breaking the law.

I was a bit wiser this time around, so I contacted the professor who had told me about the conference in the first place. He got in touch with the organization and received the same response: I was uninvited. Fortunately for me, he also disagreed with their decision. To make a long story short, we went to Protection and Advocacy, they dealt with the conference organizers, and I was “re-invited”, this time with accommodations. It took precious time away from my studies and irreplaceable time away from my family, but I believed it was worth it because I wanted to be a philosopher, and participating in conferences was part of what philosophers did.

Fast forward a decade or so to Autumn 2007. This time, I was part of a mixed group of scholars (deaf, hearing and hard of hearing) invited to submit papers for a conference taking place outside of the U.S. Since this would be the first time the organization would present a panel with analysis by scholars working in deaf and disability studies, both the panelists and the organization were excited about the possibility of having a rich discussion period following our presentations. Perhaps we could even build future collaborative efforts! We scholars wrote and submitted our papers, had them accepted, and then started dealing with the logistics and costs of having several deaf people attend who were relying on different signed languages at an academic conference. At the end of the day, the sponsoring organization just didn’t have the funds for full accommodations. We were politely “uninvited”.

The story of being uninvited plays out in many other ways. A hard of hearing colleague working in a large organization mentioned to me that she had been “uninvited” recently – it seems that a person putting on an event had wanted to include her in an all day meeting because of her professional expertise, but did not want to deal with accommodations. The disturbing part of this is that the hard of hearing person had been working for this company for more than 20 years and this was the first time this had occurred – long after the employee had proven her worth and loyalty to the company.

There’s also the story of the hard of hearing mother, who was uninvited from the school carpool after one of the other parents found out about her hearing loss. And the deaf professor who was invited to give a presentation at a prestigious liberal arts college, and then upon arrival, was told that she could not stay in campus lodging facilities because she was a danger to herself. In this case, she was still invited to give her talk, just uninvited (at midnight) to stay at her arranged lodgings and left to scramble for a place to stay in an unfamiliar city with no TTY or internet access available to her.

Other issues lurk in the background. Is there a moral obligation to include people who want to participate – even if they cost more money? If so, who should pay? Is there a limit to how much money is reasonable? Granted, the ADA mentions undue hardship for small businesses. As a granddaughter of small business owners, I know how tough it is for small businesses to survive and thrive, and I certainly don’t want small businesses going bankrupt providing access. On the other hand (to paraphrase a famous colloquialism) accepting that “my right to access ends where it hits your pocketbook” seems to equate justice with how much money is available. Something about that assumption just sticks in my craw.

I could go on, but you get my point: don’t invite us to the party if you think you might uninvite us later on.

Disclaimer: Although Teresa Blankmeyer Burke has many institutional and other affiliations, the contents of this blog represent Teresa’s personal views only, and are not associated with any of her professional affiliations.


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