In a moment of bravery, I shared a post to my Facebook wall about an event that occurred at a political convention. In 2024, you're taking your sanity and relationships in your hands by risking such a click. But I had seen and read enough by that point that Friday to warrant a cast into the lake of general advocacy.
Wednesday evening, August 21st, I watched some of the 2024 Democratic National Convention, because part of my process of discernment in an election year is seeing and hearing candidates speak for themselves, in longer-format platforms. Conventions are notorious for being celebrations of and for the political party itself -- this is not lost on me. But I can generally glean something of what's valuable to someone in watching a 15-20+ minute delivered speech or interview.
The Democratic nominee for Vice President, Tim Walz, took to the podium as part of his acceptance of the nomination. His family -- wife, daughter and son -- all watching. During his speech, Walz referenced the importance of his family to him, and his love for and pride in each of them.
As the convention audience cheered with Walz's statements, his son, Gus, stood up in the balcony, completely overcome with emotion, crying, pointing fervently at him, and saying, "That's my dad!"
I knew nothing about Tim Walz or his family before this. I saw and heard what many others did that evening -- an incredible father-and-son mutual expression of love, on one of the most public of stages.
Very shortly after that, commentators said something about Gus having a disability -- ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder), an anxiety disorder, and non-verbal learning disorder, to quote what has been relayed from the family, although they have not used 'disability' in their released information. That just got to my heart and my personal interests all the more -- because I know there's story behind it all.
This young adult with a disability was being his authentic self in an unscripted, spontaneous, unabashedly loving outburst that has brought many to the conclusion that we need more of this. Can this be normalized?
While thoughts like that from folks were still being generated, others saw something quite different. Clearly an unscripted, spontaneous response expressing love, but.... Not the "typical" expression from a young man near the end of high school? Not the "typical" display that seemed "appropriate" for the decorum of the evening? Descriptions like "weird" and "a beta," among other viscerally charged phrases, were shared by some commenting in public media circles. Then followed their apologies, carrying the notion or the words, I didn't know he was disabled.
My head is spinning from the blur of perspective and response that has accompanied this precious picture in time. Even as I read comments from those who read my post, I could see that my own take was lost due to the power behind the pure emotion of what transpired. But maybe the bigger picture was lost because it is lost on the larger scale, too.
I said in my post that "the whole subject of disabled Americans is largely not being discussed. We continue to have a significant portion of the population that is not recognized or served sufficiently." Serendipitously, Gus Walz's moment brought awareness to the subject of disability, and the level of its visibility and understanding by some members of society.
To me, as the parent of a young adult with a disability, it was important to know that Gus Walz has a disability, and that Gus Walz is the kind of person who loves in big, passionate ways. There are a lot of people with disabilities in the world, and they have lots of things to share about themselves -- with their words and no words; their emotions and expressions; their skills and talents; their perseverance, strength, and compassion. They should have the opportunity to be and to share their true selves, regardless the size of the stage, and regardless of their how's and why's.
What we need to normalize is the presence and essence of people with disabilities.
They are daily advocates for changes in the education system. The healthcare system. The mental health field. Changes in available housing. Transportation improvements. Accessibility to all things related to their communities. Perspective and outlook on life. Inclusion -- period. Gus Walz, by just being who he is, is leading a charge in the way our society considers and vocalizes the significance of family love, acceptance and thriving.
Disability is part and parcel of your makeup, whether it's permanent, temporary or evolving. Consider: Does any one part of you fully define you? But without all your parts, are you whole? Gus Walz's disability doesn't define him, but without his disability, we wouldn't have experienced his wholeness.
Once I understood that the Walz family had a child with disability challenges, I understood -- from quite a distance away, mind you, but still: They are navigating a journey of unknowns while presently accepting and loving their son for the person he is. The vulnerability and transparency on display that evening spoke volumes toward advocacy for people with disabilities, even if they hadn't intended to put anything like that on people's minds.
But honestly, someone needs to do this very thing. Often. Because normalization of disability is still "beta."
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